Whispered Promises

Chapter 6 - Unfinished Battle

Marques POV

As soon as we all are back in the locker room after warm up. Jackson begins his motivational speech to hype us up. "We trained so hard over the summer. And we have the best Quarterback that this school has had in the past 10 years." he says while pointing at me and all my teammates start cheering and hitting my shoulders. The feeling of pride washes over me and I can't help but grin like an idiot. "We got this boys. We gonna destroy them." 

Alex obviously has to open her mouth "I am still a girl but I agree to the later!" I just roll my eyes at her. If she wants us to see her as a girl she should act more like one.

We all grab each other by the shoulders and start our chant "We are the SPARTANs!!!" And with a couple of smacks on my helmet, we jog out to the field. Where our amazing crowd is waiting for us. The loud cheering and screaming turn into booing as soon as they spot the visiting team. And their proudful jog slowly down the closer they get to us. We will walk off this field as a winner in the end. Not them.

Xavier and I walk up to the Ref. And I can already feel the pressure of the coinflip. This could make or break this game. Luck is on our site though. The Ref calls out "TAIL" and hands me the ball.

Alex walks over to me during our huddle. "You better aim that ball right." I laugh, "I aim all my balls right." She looks at me confused at first then her face becomes red from disgust. "I didn't need to know that." She runs to her designated spot.

We got into our formation. We got this. We played this over and over. "HIKE" gets us all to move. I move backwards avoiding the defense of the other team and I throw the ball into Connor's hands. He runs about ten yards until he gets tackled. This is a good start.

The game was tight, and the pressure was on after halftime. I glanced at Jackson, our captain, who nodded at me with a look of steely determination. Alex, our only female player and one of the fastest on the team, was lined up as a wide receiver, ready to make another spectacular play.

I took a deep breath and called the snap. The ball hit my hands, and I dropped back, my eyes scanning the field. I spotted Alex breaking free from her defender, her speed and agility a sight to behold. I launched the ball in her direction, a perfect spiral. She leapt into the air and caught it, hitting the ground running and dodging tackles with a grace that left our opponents scrambling.

After a while everything goes quiet and seems to be slowed down.

The stadium lights were blinding as I stood behind the center, the football gripped tightly in my hands. Sweat trickled down my forehead, mixing with the adrenaline that pumped through my veins. I could hear the crowd roaring, their voices a distant hum in my ears.

But something felt off tonight. The other team was playing dirty, their hits harder and their tackles more dangerous. It was as if they were trying to hurt us rather than just win the game. I saw Jackson's face tighten every time one of us hit the ground hard, his anger barely concealed.

Midway through the fourth quarter, with the score agonizingly close, I knew we needed a big play. I took another snap, faking a handoff to our running back. I scanned the field, looking for an opening. Suddenly, I saw a blitzing linebacker break through our line. I sidestepped one defender, but another was coming in fast.

"Watch out!" Alex's voice rang out, but it was too late. The hit came out of nowhere, and I felt a sharp, searing pain in my leg as I went down. The world spun around me, and I could hear the crowd's collective gasp. I tried to move, but the pain was overwhelming. I almost blackout and I barely recognise what is happening around me.

I lay there, clutching my leg, my mind racing. This couldn't be happening. Not now. I looked up and saw Jackson and Alex rushing towards me, their faces filled with worry. Jackson knelt beside me, his voice urgent. "Stay with us, Marques," he said, his usually calm demeanor shattered.

Coach Brian and the medic arrived, and I could see the concern in the coach's eyes. The medic's examination was quick but thorough. "He's going to need at least three months to recover," he said, his tone grim.

Three months. The words hit me like a sledgehammer. Our season was effectively over. I saw the anger in Jackson's eyes, the frustration in Alex's stance. This wasn't just a loss. It was a robbery. The other team had played dirty, and now we were paying the price.

"We can't continue without Marques," Jackson said, standing up. "There's no one who can replace him." His voice was low, filled with a simmering rage.

The team murmured in agreement, their faces set in hard lines. The unfairness of it all was like a bitter taste in my mouth. We had worked so hard, played so fair, and now we were being forced out by a team that didn't care about honor or sportsmanship.

"This game ends now," Coach Brian declared. "We're not playing against a team that doesn't respect the rules and plays dirty."

As my teammates helped me off the field, I felt a mix of anger and determination. This wasn't the end for us. We would come back stronger, more united. We would show everyone what real sportsmanship looked like. I could see the same resolve in Jackson's eyes and the fierce determination in Alex's expression. This defeat would not break us. It would forge us into a team that was even more resilient, ready to rise above the dirty tactics of our enemies.

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