To open the Titans’ next offensive drive, they went with a run. Isaac hit the hole hard, but was met with an immovable wall of Hawks’ defenders, and was brought down for only a gain of a single yard.
Next, Petey tried to find Lonnie over the middle, but even as the tall TE stretched his hands up high, a Hawk came swooping in and knocked the ball out of his grasp before he could complete the catch; Lonnie was thankful the officials didn’t rule it as a completed catch turned into a fumble, but he apologised for not holding onto the ball.
Then it was up to Kenny to bail the Titans out of the tricky third down they found themselves in.
Thankfully, he did so, with Freddy’s help. The less experienced Receiver was moved to Kenny’s side before the snap. Freddy’s job was to occupy the Safety and keep them from interfering.
So, when Freddy ran straight ahead, charging deep downfield, Kenny swept around further outside, closer to the sideline, and then burst ahead in Freddy’s wake, sprinting right into the empty space Freddy left behind.
Kenny kept the defender on his inside hip, their hands fighting as Kenny tried to keep him a step back, and the CB tried to keep Kenny grounded and close.
When the ball was thrown, it was high and to the outside, right where it favoured Kenny. He turned his head, finding the ball in its flight. The defender did so just a fraction of a second later, but being behind any amount of time was a death sentence in this game.
Kenny planted his feet and launched into the air, then, the defender launched with him. Kenny threw himself up and out towards the ball; the defender jumped straight up.
Kenny’s hands closed around the ball and he wrenched it tight against his chest, as the defender flailed in the air. Kenny’s arms locked the ball in place as he crashed back down to earth, hitting butt first in bounds before he rolled out.
The catch was good, and the Titans' drive would continue for another set of downs. But this drive would still end in failure for them.
They were running out of steam, even taking things slow, the grind of their defensive efforts against the Golden Hawks’ no-huddle offence was wearing them down, and when the Hawks’ defence was still full of energy, always getting plenty of rest, and even able to switch out players in between each play, they started to dominate the Titans.
The Hawks were always a step ahead, a second faster. When a hole opened up in the line of scrimmage for Isaac to run through, a defender would reach it first and stop him before he could even get going.
Lonnie could still find gaps underneath with his methodical, slow, slicing routes, but once he made the catch, he wouldn’t have any time to run and gain extra yards afterwards.
Then with the other Receivers—Nick and Freddy—they couldn’t get open at all. Freddy was being watched much too closely, the Hawks no longer falling for his tricks or ignoring him now they realised the threat he could be. And Nick’s leg speed was faltering, he no longer had the power to break away from his defender.
Even Vincent and the rest of the O-Line had run out of gas. The holes for the run game were getting smaller and smaller, and they were getting beat more in pass protection as well, with Petey having less and less time to throw the ball.
Kenny was the last flame still burning.
Kenny and the others willed the ball across half-field barely, but then they were stopped completely, the Hawks using a couple of timeouts to make sure they’d have enough time on the clock for a counterattack after the Titans were forced to punt the ball away.
And that’s exactly what they did. Nick managed to get a decent kick off, and send the ball careening out of bounds at the Hawks’ 17-yard line, but the Titans wouldn’t have any chance to catch their breath as that rapid, no-huddle offence retook the field.
The timeouts had given the Titans a slight recovery, though they’d have to make the most of it. They came out swinging for the first play of what would be the last drive of the half.
Isaac was sent crashing down on a blitz with the four D-Linemen, but the Hawks had been expecting such an aggressive approach.
Their RB slipped out of the backfield, and made a short curl of the middle of the field. Petey scrambled after him when the catch was made, but it still ended in a gain of 7 yards.
The Titans picked themselves up and hurried back to their positions. The next play was a run, the RB getting the ball again. This time he cut a path to the left side of the field, looking to stretch it far to the outside.
The entire Titans' defence swarmed to that side of the field, moving like a surging wave. And then, the RB stopped on a dime and jump cut to the side, changing directions as he sped across the grain now, catching the defenders on the wrong foot as the Titans had to turn and give chase.
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Despite all the running around, it was a short gain, but still enough to earn the Hawks a new set of downs.
The Titans were being danced around like a bunch of puppets, Coach Fowler and his boys the ones pulling the strings.
Coach Otsen watched with a stern frown, but held onto his timeouts for a little longer. Behind the Titans bench, a few rows back in the crowd, two hopeful voices tried to get a chant of “De-fence” going, with little success.
Time was winding down as the Hawks flew across the field and onto the Titans’ half, but not quickly enough—at their pace, they’d glide right into the endzone before the clock had run out.
To cross over into the red zone, Junior hit one of his Receivers close by the sideline, as they’d barely managed to get the better of Kenny. They secured the catch before Kenny shoved them out of bounds after an 8-yard gain.
Kenny had dived to the ground in the effort, lying face down as he tried to catch his breath. The Receiver had already gotten up and passed the ball back to an official as the Hawks were regrouping.
A lot of Titans stood with their hands on heads, or hunched over holding their knees. Coach Otsen stepped up to one of the sideline officials and finally called for a timeout. The clock was stopped with under a minute to go in the half.
The Titans dragged themselves to their bench and sat down, each player hanging their head back or down as they sucked up as much oxygen as they could.
Coach Otsen stood before them, looking down at them all. ‘I’m not going to say much. You’re all doing great out there. Just clear your heads, catch your breath, and make the most of this break.’
Heavy pants were the only answers he got.
‘You’re stronger, faster, and better than them, remember that. Don’t let them push you around,’ Coach Carson said.
When the short break of the timeout was over, the dying embers of the Titans had been reignited.
The first play out of the timeout the Hawks went for was a throw over the middle to their TE, but both Petey and Isaac were there to break it up before the catch could be made. Of course, the Hawks didn’t stop there and went straight into another play, this one a run up the middle.
Their RB weaved and carved his way forward for a few yards, and brought the Hawks within the final 10 yards to the endzone and a touchdown.
Coach Otsen called another timeout.
Again, he didn’t have much to say to the boys, he just let them rest and recover.
The Hawks came out with another pass after the timeout, this one targetting the back of the endzone, but Lonnie was there to bother the Receiver just enough that they bobbled the catch and fell out of bounds before they could reel it in completely.
The Titans breathed a sigh of relief, their two biggest fans cheered loudly, and oddly enough, Coach Otsen called his final timeout right away, even though it was second down, and the clock had already stopped.
‘Every play counts,’ he told the boys. ‘Keep them out of the endzone, that’s the only thing that matters now, nothing else. Just keep them out of the endzone, even if it kills you.’
‘YES COACH!’
They took their positions on the field once more. They were all reinvigorated, their energy fully restored, perhaps because of the frequent breaks, or the adrenaline of the circumstances and making a goal-line stand, or maybe even the fact that halftime and a proper rest were less than thirty seconds away. Whatever it was, the Titans were at full strength.
The Hawks felt that strength on their next play, trying to bull their way inside for the score, they brought in a beefy FB, one of their players that usually played as part of the D-Line. He carved open a path for the RB like a snowplough, but the Titans swiftly closed that opening.
Everybody rushed in to get involved, Kenny, Lonnie, Petey, Isaac, and even Freddy had a helping hand keeping the RB out, protecting those final 2 yards of turf.
The Hawks made some changes then. Their formation became much more compact, and another D-Linemen came out to replace the RB, so they had two players the size of fridges sitting behind Junior.
There wasn’t a single Receiver spread out wide, and almost every player on both sides was within arm's reach of one another before the snap.
Coach Otsen’s eyes narrowed. He knew his boys were stronger, just looking at the size difference between the two Lines anyone could see that. ‘It’s a fake! Watch the pass!’ he cried. Coach Carson echoed his message.
Junior looked to the shouting, his hands shaking. A cold sweat ran down his face. He looked at his father on the other sideline. The clock was still running as he hesitated.
Coach Fowler stared back coldly, those eyes piercing straight through Junior. Junior looked away. They knew it was a fake. Should he go through with it? What if they picked off the pass? Should he swap to a run then? Or were they trying to bluff and hoping for that?
Expectant voices called to him, his teammates looking at him, confused about what was taking so long, urging him to make the call and start the play. He couldn’t think with everyone shouting at him.
The official’s whistle drew him out of his spiralling panic. The Golden Hawks had used their last timeout; there were only two seconds left in the half.
With slumped shoulders, he made his way over to the bench and stood before his father. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know what to do.’
‘What do you mean? You don’t need to know what to do, you just need to trust my decisions. It doesn’t matter if they know we aren’t going to run it. They can’t stop us, we are the superior force. DON’T forget that.’
‘Yes sir. Sorry sir.’
Junior turned to go back out on the field but an iron-like grip stopped him as Coach Fowler grabbed his wrist, it felt like talons were digging into his flesh. ‘No. I won’t put our success in YOUR hands now. Sit down. We’ll have to kick a field goal now.’
‘Oh…’ Junior nodded, keeping his eyes down. He sat down as the kicking unit took the field.
‘You cost us those four points. Keep that in mind, boy.’
Junior bit his tongue.
The field goal was successful, and that marked the end of the half. The Golden Hawks held onto a 7-point lead as they went into the major break, the score read: 13–6.