Inside the legal contact zone, as long as you're not deliberately trying to injure someone, penalties are rare.
Plus, in this play, Mike was on the defensive side, and his move was pretty clean.
The head ref, keeping an eye on the action, saw the big guy who'd been flung aside pop right back up like nothing happened, then looked away.
On the field, nobody—except Coach Cotton protesting from the sideline—thought Mike's tackle was dirty.
With Oher completely neutralized by Mike, and the state top ten in sight, the rest of the Medford High players stepped up big time, showing real grit.
In the intense clash, St. Mary's quarterback got swarmed by Captain Aaron and the crew, stopped dead around midfield—and even started getting pushed back.
Whistle!
St. Mary's QB, still clutching the ball, got buried under a wave of hits. He protected it well enough to keep possession, but it cost them a down.
After both sides reset, St. Mary's snapped again for second down.
Mike locked onto Oher once more. After some feeling out, this time he initiated the collision.
BOOM! The massive impact echoed, drawing gasps from the crowd.
The two tackles tangled up, turning it into a pure strength battle.
You could tell Oher, coming in second, had a slight edge in raw power.
But Mike's superior technique—jamming his elbows between Oher's ribs and upper arms—made it hard for the big guy to leverage his strength.
For a moment, they were dead even.
In that brief exchange, Mike figured Oher's physique was probably in the 180–200 range.
Just a guess, though—and from the looks of it, Oher hadn't learned how to fully tap into that power yet.
Over on the other side, without Oher clearing the way, St. Mary's QB got stuffed again.
Clearly, minus their human bulldozer, their ground-and-pound lost its punch.
That's when Medford's center spotted an opening and doubled over to help Mike.
Together, they flipped Oher flat on his back.
Whistle!
St. Mary's QB got sacked again for taking too long—another down gone.
As their offense stalled out once more, Coach Cotton realized how bad things were getting.
Seeing Oher sprawled near the sideline after doing zilch that down, he appealed to the ref again: "Hey! My guy's getting roughed up—you blind? That's defensive holding!"
He was fishing for a penalty to give his team a fresh set of downs.
But the ref glanced at the hulking Oher, shook his head—no flag. Medford's D was clean.
Here's the thing about football refs: given how physical the game is, they adjust calls based on what's happening. If a skinny kid gets double-teamed and dumped, they might throw a flag.
But with a beast like Oher? The bar's higher.
Borderline stuff? No sympathy from this crew.
Medford pulling Mike to shadow Oher? Total chess move.
By the time Cotton saw the writing on the wall, it was too late to switch things up.
If St. Mary's wanted any shot at winning now, it all rode on Oher using his size to keep bulldozing paths for the QB and putting up points.
In a way, their hopes were pinned entirely on the big man.
As Oher got up, Cotton yelled urgently: "Michael, quit tangling with him! Your job is protecting the quarterback!"
The two Mikes were close enough that, before big Michael could respond, Mike Quinn glanced over with mock confusion: "You talking to me, Coach?"
Cotton knew full well Medford had a Mike too—from scouting reports.
But that sarcastic tone? He wasn't dignifying it with a reply.
Big Michael's honest face showed frustration. He wanted to help his QB punch it in, but Mike was glued to him like Velcro.
Whistle!
Third down for St. Mary's.
Their QB, who should've been charging again, got bottled up way behind midfield right after the snap.
Medford's guys, tasting blood from the last two stops, went aggressive—blitzing hard.
Wave after wave of hits pushed St. Mary's QB backward bit by bit.
Medford was playing like a pack of wolves with nothing to lose—all-out attack.
The crowd ate it up, roaring louder.
If this kept up, red-hot Medford could force a safety on fourth down.
Cotton, already pacing, saw the gap widening and bellowed: "Michael, what're you waiting for? The team needs you!"
Fired up by his coach, Oher's eyes turned fierce. He charged straight at Mike.
This time, no thinking—just barrel through and link up with his teammates.
Feeling the intensity, Mike didn't play passive either.
Physics 101: momentum = mass times velocity.
So Mike cranked his speed and met him head-on.
BOOM!
Gasps everywhere as both Mikes hit the turf.
Whistle!
Third down clock ran out, and both Mikes were still down on the left sideline.
Coaches from both sides rushed over.
"Mike, you alright?" Coach George asked, worried—already regretting assigning him to the monster.
"I'm good... just winded," Mike gasped, clutching his chest as he stood. His head was still spinning.
Without pads absorbing that hit? He'd have cracked at least two ribs.
Gotta hand it—the big dude packed a wallop.
Over there, Oher tried a few times but couldn't get up. One arm hung limp and twisted.
Tears mixed with sweat as they streamed down his face.
Cotton spotted the injury and called the trainer ASAP.
Diagnosis: dislocated shoulder—needed resetting and rest.
"I'm sorry, Coach... I let you down," Oher mumbled from the stretcher, full of guilt and frustration.
"Hey, it's okay, Michael. You did great," Cotton consoled him. "It's just one game. Heal up—we'll get 'em next year."
Right then, little Sean with his DSLR and the Tuohys showed up sideline, all chiming in to cheer him up.
In the end, Oher headed off for treatment with the Tuohy family.
With Oher out, the ref glanced surprisingly at Mike—who by now looked fine—then tossed a yellow flag: personal foul on the defense.
Neither coach argued.
Truth was, with Oher gone, the penalty didn't matter anymore.
From earlier grinding, half the fourth quarter was already gone.
Eleven-point deficit, six minutes left.
No Oher? Even with an extra down, Cotton had zero ideas for a comeback.
With the pressure off, Coach George pulled Mike for good.
Whistle!
Game resumed. St. Mary's offense flipped back to their boring 4-3-4.
Cotton wasn't chasing the win anymore—just trying to avoid total embarrassment in the final minutes.
But peaking Medford gave them nothing. Their ferocious D forced a safety.
43–30
Score updated again.
Whistle!
Final buzzer. Medford High cruised to a blowout win, punching their ticket to the state top ten.
Captain Aaron, pumped, dragged Mike off the bench to the field center, where they soaked up the crowd's cheers together.