No one at St. Martin Academy expected that, at this point in the game, their opponent would still dare to launch a second all-out attack.
Very quickly, St. Martin's quarterback gathered his players and lined them up in a straight, head-to-head formation, squaring off against Medford as if it were a full-on power clash.
It was an obvious sign of disrespect toward Medford High.
Realizing the other side wanted another brute-force collision, Aaron felt his anger flare. He whispered, "Mike, I'll do everything I can to lock down their quarterback. All you have to do is run forward. Can you do it?"
Aaron trained against Mike regularly and knew his abilities better than almost anyone. No matter how you looked at it, Mike wasn't any worse than Sam.
"Got it," Mike replied calmly, his eyes already scanning through his helmet for a gap in the defense.
Even though St. Martin was technically on defense, they'd lined up aggressively, clustering their defensive linemen and linebackers around their own quarterback.
It was an awkward, half-baked formation.
After a quick read, Mike spotted the weakness—both edges were exposed.
Especially the right side—St. Martin's left—where there was barely any coverage at all.
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At the sound of the whistle, both teams crashed together around the quarterback in a violent collision.
In an instant, Aaron snapped the ball between his legs to Mike, then threw himself into the block.
"Now!"
Mike faked a breakout to the left, then twisted his hips, cut sharply to the right sideline, leaned forward, and exploded into a full sprint.
"Damn it—stop him!"
By the time St. Martin realized what was happening, only two linebackers were close enough to react.
Seeing Mike trying to slip through, they moved fast, closing in from both sides, clearly aiming to bring him down on the spot.
As the two linebackers crouched and prepared to tackle, Mike—already at full speed—suddenly leapt into the air.
Amid gasps from the crowd, he hurdled cleanly over their heads like a track athlete clearing a barrier.
That kind of move usually required elite athleticism.
And seeing something like that happen in a high school game?
Medford's supporters leapt to their feet, the cheers shaking the stadium.
"Good boy—yes! That's it!" A man holding a long broadcast camera on the sidelines shouted excitedly. "If this drive ends in a touchdown, it's guaranteed to make this week's Top 10 plays!"
He was a local TV station employee who had thought being assigned to a small town like Medford meant there'd be nothing worth reporting.
Instead, Medford High's No. 21 showed up like a dark horse and delivered a real surprise.
And honestly, part of his excitement came from knowing his performance bonus this month was basically secured.
As for Mike, he was running at top speed and had no attention to spare for anything off the field. All he could hear was the wind rushing past his ears, mixed with his own breathing.
"GO! GO! GO!!"
After an 80-yard sprint, Mike finally met resistance near the end zone—a safety stood in his way.
The last line of defense.
With defenders chasing from behind, Mike knew that even the slightest hesitation would get him wrapped up.
He glanced briefly at the safety. From his build, it was obvious—another speed-type player.
Fine. Let's go all in.
Not every speed player was built like Mike.
Pure speed usually meant a smaller frame and more flexibility. The safety in front of him was clearly one of those extreme specialists—sacrificing strength entirely for speed.
At maximum velocity, Mike had no time to change direction. He leaned forward slightly and braced for impact.
Boom—
The collision rang out across the field.
The safety's slender body was sent flying two or three yards away.
Raw, primal contact like that sent adrenaline surging.
Mike was riding that high now—though even he hadn't expected the guy to go down so easily.
Then, amid deafening cheers, Mike charged straight into the end zone with the football tucked tight, completing a stunning rushing touchdown.
When Mike finally tossed the ball aside in the end zone, wide receiver Little George had just arrived, ready to celebrate.
"Mike!!!"
Regina sprinted onto the field, shoved Little George aside, and launched herself at Mike in a flying tackle.
Grabbing his helmet, she kissed him hard.
By the time the other cheerleaders dragged an overexcited Regina away, Mike's helmet was covered in a bold row of lipstick marks.
Soon, cheerleaders and players alike surrounded Mike, cheering wildly.
"Yes!" Coach George pumped his fist on the sideline, finally releasing all the tension he'd been holding in.
Nine points plus six more—Medford High had practically locked in the win.
"George, you were right! You brought us this victory!" Assistant Coach Wayne said excitedly, piling on the praise.
"It's nothing," George replied, enjoying the flattery before putting on his composed head coach demeanor. "The players earned this."
As a head coach, there was nothing sweeter than winning.
"I knew we shouldn't have punted. Mike did great," Little Shelton said on the sideline with a restrained smile.
"Alright, time to settle the bet," Grandma Connie said, finding Grit after the cheering died down.
Compared to the excitement around him, Grit looked pretty sour. Still, he pulled out a hundred dollars and handed it over.
But the way he looked at No. 21 on the field—and at Coach George on the sideline—was anything but friendly.
Amid the cheers, the head referee called Medford's players over and shooed the cheerleaders back off the field.
The third quarter was coming to an end, and Medford High still had a chance for extra points.
Backed up five yards from the end zone, Aaron cradled the football and asked, "Mike—kick it, or go for another touchdown?"
Mike's earlier performance had completely won over Aaron, the team captain.
Extra point: kick for one, or score again for two.
"Stick with the play—we're going for two," Mike said firmly.
Compared to just a few minutes earlier, Medford High was fired up like never before.
Mike himself had picked up plenty of stat boosts from the cheering teammates.
All told, his physical rating jumped from 146 before the game to 151.
"Good!" Aaron felt exhilarated as well and once again directed the team into position.
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The ball was snapped to Mike again.
This time, there were no tricks.
He clutched the football and charged straight into the pile, forcing his way through with pure power for another successful touchdown.
Medford High added two more points.
That play completely crushed St. Martin Academy's morale.
In sports, morale is the soul of a team.
When the third quarter ended, St. Martin still hadn't recovered from that brutal score.
After the possession changed, before the fourth quarter ended, Mike seized yet another chance to show off his physical dominance, helping Medford secure a decisive victory.
The final score was set at 24–9.
After his physical stat passed 150, Mike could clearly feel it—he was on an entirely different level from everyone else on the field.
Later, after coming off the field, he also picked up several large football experience boosts from Coach George, pushing his football skill to Level 3—professional level.
In a school-level league, Mike's football ability was more than enough to dominate the competition.