Gladiators of the Gridiron

The pleasure that came from all the praise and cheers I was showered with after I made it back to the bench, was nothing compared to the pleasure that rushed through me when I first saw that douche’s dismayed face.

‘Good stuff out there, Samuels. I hope you knew that was your limit, pretty risky play but it worked out, so you’re off the hook for now,’ Coach Hoang said to me.

‘I won’t let them score a touchdown on me, so stop worrying about it.’ I sat back, downing another couple of mouthfuls of water.

‘Just keep tight on him and deny the long ball, don’t get too cocky.’

I turned my attention to our offence as they took the field again. Their drive was much shorter this time—which I was glad for—because it meant I could get back out there faster, but it was also annoying because they took the gift I worked hard to give them—my interception—and only managed to turn it into three measly points from a field goal.

We kicked off again and our players seemed more energetic while the other team was looking downtrodden already. Their blocks weren’t as protective this time around, and their shorty only got out to the twenty-five yard line before being taken down this time.

I stood up and Coach Hoang beckoned us defenders over.

‘Great work out there, guys. Just keep it up. But DBs, I want you to switch into press coverage now—get up on your man real tight, don’t let them get a free release. They’re fast, but if we can crush that speed before it can even start it won’t be a problem.’

‘Crush on three!’ JJ raised a fist and soon it was surrounded by almost a dozen others. ‘One, two, three, crush!’ Their voices cried out as one. I had stayed quiet.

I made my way out onto the field again. There was less than a minute left in the first quarter, but already the score was 10–0 our way.

When I lined up in my position, I followed Coach Hoang’s orders and made sure to keep as close to the line as scrimmage as possible, as did the two other CBs out there with me.

We were still in a formation focusing on stopping the opposing team’s runs with most of our bodies near the wall of pads and flesh that was formed by the two Lines of each team.

Meanwhile, us CBs had been left on an island with our matchups. We were in man defence and we weren’t being subtle about it. It was perfect.

Though when my opponent came and lined up opposite me, it wasn’t the douche. No, he had been scared off and the overwhelming difference in our skill must’ve sent a message to his coaches.

Douche had been banished to the opposite side of the field, where I’m sure even someone like Deshaun would have an easy time holding down that broken shell of a Receiver.

Instead, the sacrificial lamb that had been offered up to me, was none other than number 17.

There wasn’t anything that stood out about number 17. He was the shortest of the starting Receivers at least, but even so, he was still six feet tall. He was just so … unassuming. Such a milquetoast guy.

Milquetoast was a lot more boring personality-wise as well. He made no attempt to taunt me, and he had little reaction to any verbal jabs I sent his way.

‘Now, am I going to embarrass you even more than I did your douchey friend? Or will you actually provide some semblance of resistance?’ I laughed in his face and flashed my carnivorous teeth, but still he only gave me a bland look with those bland eyes of his that were deeply sunken into that bland face.

He was sickening.

The ball was snapped, and I rushed forward, hands flashing out to slam into Milquetoast’s chest to impede his release and stop his momentum before it could start, but he had no intention of getting past me.

It was another run, so Milquetoast was content with holding me up where I was and making sure I couldn’t go tackle the ball-carrier.

Their run only resulted in a short gain of a couple of yards. I dug my teeth into my mouthguard harder and gave Milquetoast another shove before breaking away and going back to our huddle.

But the Monsoon’s had no intention of huddling up. They were heading straight off the field. I looked at the scoreboard, and it was clear they intended to just let the clock run out for the first quarter without taking another snap of the ball.

“How boring,” I thought. JJ kept us out there in the middle of the field until the umpires blew their whistles and officially called an end to the first quarter. He said it was a way of showing our strength and that we were pumped to continue while our enemies were scared and cowering on the sidelines.

When we came off the field, we didn’t go into the locker room for our short break, we just stayed on the sideline, each player filling out the bench and resting their legs.

I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for the break to be over.

Coach Hoang implored the DBs to be careful with their assignments, and reminded us to use the sideline as our help. He wanted us to force the Receivers to the outside and squeeze them with the pressure of the boundaries.

I took it on board, but zoned out his messages for the other positions. Coach Long came around and slapped us all on our shoulders, telling us that we did a good job. It was insulting that others were getting praised as much as I did despite me being the only one to force a turnover.

The second quarter couldn’t start soon enough. When we stepped out onto the field again, we were facing the opposite direction, but other than that, nothing had felt like it changed; the momentum was still with us.

The plan was more or less the same for the next play. There was probably some variation up front with the Linemen and Linebackers, but I didn’t care. I knew what my job was, and I knew I only had minimal help, if any at all, but that was the way I wanted things, I didn’t need help.

I lined up in front of Milquetoast again. ‘Don’t tell me I scared your whole team and you’re just going to run it for the rest of the game?’ Again my brilliant jab was met with stone faced silence.

‘Hut!’ Milquetoast and I collided once more, though this time he grit his teeth as he struggled to push past me and break away from my press. It was another play-action pass, but it didn’t go in my direction; Milquetoast couldn’t get open.

Instead it was passed over the middle for a five yard gain, to a massive Tight End. The hulking beast would’ve been only a little shorter than our own giant—Stephen Day—but was much larger when it came to his muscles.

The area he caught the ball in was congested, and he was quickly swarmed and taken down. It was third down, and they only had three yards left to go. I didn’t like the odds of their next play being a pass.

A part of me wished their upcoming run would get enough yards for them to get a new set of downs, if only so they could throw another pass my way. But I wouldn’t be so lucky on this drive.

Their run on the next play was stuffed for no gain at all—JJ had seen it coming and had blitzed up the middle like he was shot out of a gun. He crushed their RB and I thought it was a miracle the little runt had held onto the ball.

As JJ came off the field, he praised the RB for managing to keep a grip on the ball, laughing and commending his strength for being able to hold on despite being hit with JJ’s best shot.

After that, the game stagnated and became a gritty, slow-paced struggle. When our offence got the ball back, they didn’t last much longer and it was quickly our turn on defence again only for the same thing to happen as both teams seemed content on just giving the ball back and forth without doing much of anything.

But still, it was boring! The ball only ever came my way once for the rest of the quarter, and it was a pass that was easily swatted down—I would’ve caught this one as well, but ironically mine and Milquetoast’s roles reversed for a split second and it was he who had to defend from me catching the ball.

But other than that, there was no more scoring from either side. Neither offence even got into a position to threaten a potential score. And like that, the first half came to a rather anticlimactic end.

For the major break, we did make our way into our locker room, and spirits were high. More pats on the back and head were handed out from each of the coaches as we made our way in.

‘That’s what I like to see, boys!’ Coach Long gave a cheer, beaming with a big grin as he stood in front of us all. ‘I love that stuff! Great Touchdown Jay and Stephen, I always love to see the chemistry you’ve built over all these years on display. Great kick Manuel, you’ve really extended your range. And Tyrese! Wooo boy, that interception was beautiful.’

There were cheers and stomping of feet from the other players as I smiled. Of course, I had only done my job, but it was nice to receive the respect I was due.

‘But don’t get caught up in your successes. There’s still another half to go, and you need to keep playing with that same intensity and desire for the rest of the game. Don’t go out there thinking that you’re in the lead, don’t even go out thinking it's a tie game, go out there with the mentality that we’re behind and we need to fight and claw our way back out in front.’

The other coaches echoed Coach Long’s sentiments.

‘Alright gather up, boys.’ We all converged on Coach, raising our fists with his. ‘Dons on three. One, two, three, Dons!’

The locker room shook with our cheers and the force of my teammates jumping around. When we burst back out onto the field for the second half, we did so with even more energy than when we came out to start the game.

Of course, I and the other defenders had to wait for our turn to shine again. Our offence was going to start off the second half. Our little CMC wannabe received the kickoff and nimbly brought the ball out to the thirty-one yard line.

Our offence chipped away at them again, taking their time and draining the clock as they moved down the field methodically, but were stopped just outside of the Monsoon’s endzone.

They had to settle for another field goal. It was only short range, and it soared through the uprights without any issue.

Then I was only one kickoff and quick return away from getting on the field again. Their shorty took it out to the thirty yard line and that’s where their offence took over.

Our defensive game plan hadn’t changed from the first half, it had been going well, and there weren’t any adjustments that needed to be made for now, we just had to wait and see if the other team would have any more tricks up their sleeves.

The score was 13–0 when I took up my usual position. However, I was shocked to find my third different opponent for the game waiting for me.

I had to crane my neck to look up at him properly. It was their massive, beastly TE in front of me. His dumb, ugly face glanced down at me for only a moment, as if I was a bug beneath his notice.

He was huge up close, and the only thing I could think of when I looked at him was an ogre.

‘Try not to get ‘urt, midget,’ he said with a thick accent, as if he had trouble moving his thick tongue around in his stupid mouth to form proper words.

‘You’re gonna look so fucking retarded when you’re crying on your knees in front of me you stupid, fat, piece of shit,’ I snapped back. His dull eyes narrowed as he glared down at me.

‘Hut!’

He charged ahead and bulldozed right into me. I tried to sink my feet into the turf but I was driven back with ease. I skidded along the grass and he shoved me off as if he was shrugging off a child.

He turned his back to me as I stumbled and regained my balance. When I looked at him and went to rush forward, the ball was already in his hands.

“What?!” I slammed into him and wrapped my arms around his waist but he continued to drag me back. It was only when another teammate hurried over and wrapped him up as well that we were able to drag the beast down, the fat ogre landed right on top of me.

It ended up being a ten-yard gain for the offence. Ogre stood up, pushing off of me to do so as he further crushed me into the ground with a smug grin.

‘Puny worm,’ he muttered before laughing.

I stared up at the sky, fists and jaw clenched as I couldn’t believe someone like him had just caught a pass against me.