The Flight Boys jogged back onto the field for the second half with the same energy, but Phoenix Elite looked desperate. Their trash talk had gotten even more aggressive during halftime, and it was clear they were going to try to get under the Flight Boys' skin.
Flight Boys' Opening Drive - Second Half
Tristain took the field at the 25-yard line, his team leading 14-0 but Phoenix still running their mouths.
"Y'all got lucky in the first half!" Phoenix's safety screamed. "Second half belong to us!"
"Lucky?" Marcus shot back. "Belt to ass, that's all we been giving y'all!"
1st and Goal from the 25
As Tristain surveyed the defense, Phoenix's cornerback was jawing at Marcus relentlessly.
"You can't guard me, bitch!" Marcus yelled as he lined up. "Been cooking you all day!"
"You a sorry ass receiver!" the corner fired back. "Ain't shit without lucky throws!"
"Say dada when I blow past you again!"
At the snap, Marcus exploded off the line, but this time the Phoenix cornerback grabbed his jersey and held him at the line.
"Yo, ref!" Marcus yelled, pointing at the obvious holding. "Stop holding like a hoe!"
"I ain't holding shit! You just weak!"
The officials threw the flag, but the damage was done. The play was blown dead.
"That's what I thought!" Marcus taunted. "Can't cover me clean so you gotta cheat!"
"Fuck you!"
1st and Goal from the 15 (after penalty)
The tension was escalating rapidly. Phoenix was getting increasingly frustrated, and their trash talk was becoming more personal.
"Y'all some punk-ass bitches!" their linebacker screamed. "Soft as baby shit!"
"You sweet!" Deshawn fired back. "Keep that same energy when you getting cooked!"
Tristain found Elijah on a seam route, threading the ball between two defenders for a 15-yard touchdown.
TOUCHDOWN. FLIGHT BOYS 21-0.
As Elijah crossed the goal line, he turned toward the Phoenix defense.
"Y'all said what about soft?" he yelled, flexing. "Who's soft now?"
That's when Phoenix's safety had enough. He charged toward Elijah, getting in his face.
"Fuck you, bitch! Y'all ain't shit!"
"Back up off me!" Elijah shoved him back.
Within seconds, both teams were rushing toward midfield. Players were chest-to-chest, screaming in each other's faces.
"Y'all some fake-ass frauds!" Phoenix's receiver yelled.
"Frauds?" Marcus was in his face immediately. "Scoreboard, pussy! Twenty-one to nothing!"
"I'll beat your ass!"
"Try me then!"
The officials and coaches rushed in to separate the teams before any punches were thrown, but the damage was done. The animosity was boiling over.
---
As the Flight Boys jogged to their sideline after the near-fight, Coach Taylor was waiting with a look of pure fury on his face. This wasn't the encouraging, positive coach from earlier—this was someone who'd had enough.
"GET OVER HERE! NOW!" he screamed.
The team gathered around him, still hyped up from the confrontation.
"What the FUCK was that?" Taylor's voice was ice cold. "What the fuck was that bullshit I just saw?"
The team went silent. They'd never seen this side of their coach.
"You fucking pieces of shit are beating yourselves!" he continued, his voice getting louder. "We're up twenty-one to nothing and y'all acting like some hoes instead of champions!"
Jaylen started to speak, but Taylor cut him off.
"SHUT UP! I'm talking! You think this shit is a game? You think this is about who can talk the most trash? You think we came all the way to Chicago to act like some fucking street thugs?"
His eyes scanned the entire team.
"Don't you EVER stoop to those clout-chasing hoes' level again! They're trying to drag you into their bullshit because they can't beat you on the field! And you're falling for it like some amateur-ass kids!"
Taylor stepped closer to the huddle.
"Lock the fuck in and remember why we came here! We came here to win a championship! We came here to show the world what Flight Boys football looks like! We didn't come here to get into fights with some sorry-ass team that can't score a fucking point!"
His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper.
"You want to talk trash? Let the scoreboard talk for you. You want to show them who's boss? Score fifty fucking points and make them quit. But don't you ever—EVER—let some desperate-ass team drag you down to their level again."
He looked each player in the eye.
"Are we clear?"
"Yes sir," the team responded quietly.
"I can't hear you!"
"YES SIR!"
"Good. Now get back out there and show them what champions look like when they're locked in."
Flight Boys' Second Drive - Locked In
Tristain took the field with a completely different energy. The trash talk had stopped. The celebrations were minimal. This was pure, focused execution.
1st and Goal from the 25
Phoenix was still running their mouths, but the Flight Boys weren't engaging anymore.
"Y'all got quiet real quick!" Phoenix's linebacker taunted. "Where's all that mouth now?"
Tristain didn't respond. He just surveyed the defense with surgical precision.
Man coverage. Safety playing center field. Marcus has single coverage.
"Gun trips right. Marcus, comeback at 15."
At the snap, Marcus ran a perfect route, his cleats finding traction as he made his break. The cornerback was still talking, but Marcus wasn't listening.
Marcus's POV:Just ball. No talking. Just execution.
Tristain's throw was surgical—a perfect spiral that arrived at Marcus's hands exactly when he turned around.
COMPLETION. 15 yards to the 40-yard line.
No celebration. No trash talk. Just football.
1st and Goal from the 40
Phoenix was getting frustrated by the Flight Boys' silence.
"Y'all scared now! Coach had to tell y'all to shut up!"
Still no response. Tristain found Deshawn on a deep post route, placing the ball perfectly between two defenders.
COMPLETION. 25 yards to the 15-yard line.
Deshawn's POV: Perfect ball. Perfect route. That's all that matters.
1st and Goal from the 15
The red zone. Where champions were made.
Tristain took a quick drop and found Jaylen on a slant route. The ball arrived before the linebacker could react.
TOUCHDOWN. FLIGHT BOYS 28-0.
Jaylen caught the ball, crossed the goal line, and simply handed it to the referee. No celebration. No words. Just cold, professional execution.
Phoenix was getting desperate now, their trash talk becoming more frantic.
"Y'all still ain't shit! We bout to come back!"
But the Flight Boys weren't listening anymore.
Phoenix Elite's Desperation
Phoenix came back onto the field down four touchdowns, their confidence completely shattered.
1st and Goal from the 25
Martinez was forcing everything now, trying to make plays that weren't there. He looked for Williams on a quick slant, but Malik Johnson was waiting.
INTERCEPTION.
Malik caught the ball and returned it to midfield, but there was no celebration. Just professional execution.
"Third pick of the game," he said quietly to his teammates. "Stay locked in."
---
Tristain took the field at the 50-yard line, ready to put the game completely away.
1st and Goal from the 50
Phoenix was showing desperation in their defensive alignment, but the Flight Boys were operating with machine-like precision.
Tristain found Elijah on a seam route, threading the ball between three defenders with surgical accuracy.
COMPLETION. 30 yards to the 20-yard line.
1st and Goal from the 20
The end zone was in sight. Tristain took a quick drop and found Terrell on a wheel route out of the backfield.
TOUCHDOWN. FLIGHT BOYS 35-0.
Terrell crossed the goal line and immediately jogged back to the sideline. No celebration. No trash talk. Just championship-level execution.
----
With time running out, Phoenix managed one last drive, but it ended predictably.
Martinez forced another throw into double coverage, and Xavier Banks was there for his second interception of the game.
FINAL SCORE: FLIGHT BOYS 35 - PHOENIX ELITE 0
Another shutout. Another dominant performance. But this time, it was pure, focused execution without the distractions.
---
ESPN's sideline reporter approached Tristain as the teams shook hands on the field.
"Tristain, another dominant performance. 35-0 shutout in the semifinals. Talk me through that second half - it seemed like your team's energy shifted completely."
Tristain looked directly into the camera, his demeanor completely composed.
"Coach Taylor reminded us why we're here," he said simply. "We're not here to get into trash talk battles or prove anything to anyone. We're here to win championships."
"There was a near-fight early in the second half. How did you guys refocus after that?"
"Sometimes you get caught up in the emotion of competition," Tristain replied. "But champions know how to lock back in and focus on what matters. Our coach made sure we remembered that."
"You're now in the tournament final this evening. How are you feeling about facing the winner of the other semifinal?"
"Same way we've felt about every team we've faced," Tristain said with quiet confidence. "We respect our opponents, but we trust our preparation and execution. Today is just another opportunity to show what Flight Boys football looks like."
"Any message for your teammates or the people back home watching?"
Tristain paused for a moment, then looked directly into the camera.
"To my teammates - we're one game away from something special. To everyone back home - thank you for believing in us. Tomorrow we finish what we started."
----
The team headed back to the hotel restaurant, but the energy was different now. Still excited, but more focused, more mature. Though as they settled in with their food, the usual teenage antics started creeping back in.
"Yo, that speech from Coach was exactly what we needed," Marcus said as they grabbed dinner. "Had us acting like some amateurs out there."
"Facts," Deshawn agreed. "We almost let them take us out of our game. But when we locked in? Sheesh."
"That second half was pure domination," Elijah grinned. "No talking, just straight football. We cooked them boys."
"That's what championship teams do," Tristain said, finally allowing himself to smile. "Lock in when it matters."
Jaylen was scrolling through social media when he started laughing. "Bro, the highlights are going crazy again. People saying we look different when we're locked in versus when we're emotional."
"Good," Tristain nodded. "Let them see both sides. But tomorrow, it's all about the locked-in version."
Marcus was quiet, deep in his TikTok feed, when suddenly his eyes went wide and his fork clattered to his plate.
"YO! WHAT THE FUCK!" he yelled, making everyone at the table jump.
"Bro, what's wrong with you?" Deshawn asked.
Marcus held up his phone, mouth hanging open. "T... bro... you need to see this shit right now."
"What?" Tristain reached for the phone but Marcus pulled it back.
"Nah, I gotta prepare you for this. There's a whole ass TikTok edit of you... and these girls in the comments are..." Marcus started reading, his voice getting higher with each comment. "'Daddy come home,' 'Marriage application in my bio,' 'Just give me a chance,' 'I can fix him'—BRO THEY'RE TALKING ABOUT BREEDING!"
"What?!" Tristain grabbed the phone and his face immediately went red. The TikTok was a slow-motion edit of him lifting his compression shirt to wipe sweat during the game, set to some romantic music. The comments were absolutely unhinged.
"Nah, this is crazy," Tristain muttered, scrolling through. "These people are wild."
"Wild? BRO, LOOK AT THIS ONE!" Deshawn leaned over and pointed. "'Step on me king!' What does that even mean?!"
"It means they want him to—" Elijah started.
"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!" Tristain cut him off, laughing despite himself.
"Bro, you got grown women in here talking about—" Carlos started reading another comment but Tristain snatched the phone.
"Y'all are sick," Tristain laughed, but he kept scrolling. "This is so weird."
"Weird? You love this shit," Marcus grinned. "Look at you reading every comment."
Just then, Tristain's phone buzzed with a text from Ayana. He opened it and immediately started laughing even harder.
Ayana: "So I may have favorited that TikTok of you... 👀"
Tristain: "You WHAT?!"
Ayana: "But don't get excited. I still don't like all these random girls thirsting over what's MINE 😤"
Tristain: "Yours huh? 😏"
Ayana: "You heard what I said. Tell them hoes you're taken"
Tristain: "But we're not even—"
Ayana: "WE'RE NOT WHAT?!"
Tristain: "😂😂😂 Nothing baby. You're right, I'm yours"
Ayana: "That's what I thought. Now stop reading those thirsty comments and focus on your championship game"
'How'd she even know i was reading them???'
"Yo, who got you smiling like that?" Terrell asked, noticing Tristain's expression.
"Ayana," Tristain replied, still grinning.
"Ayana saw the TikTok too?" Marcus raised an eyebrow.
"She favorited it," Tristain said, making the whole table erupt.
"SHE WHAT?!" they all yelled in unison.
"But then she said she doesn't like other girls thirsting over me because I'm hers," Tristain continued.
"HERS?!" Deshawn stood up dramatically. "Boy, y'all need to just get together already! This is ridiculous!"
"The tension is killing all of us," Jaylen added. "Just date the girl!"
"It's complicated," Tristain said, but he was still smiling at his phone.
"Ain't nothing complicated about it," Elijah said. "Y'all both want each other, y'all both know it, just stop playing games."
"Whatever," Tristain laughed. "Y'all worried about my love life instead of this championship game."
"Speaking of the championship game," Carlos said, "who we playing tomorrow?"
Coach Taylor approached their table with a serious expression, but there was pride in his eyes.
"Dallas Elite. They beat Atlanta Storm 28-14 in the other semifinal. Undefeated all tournament, just like us."
"Dallas Elite," Marcus repeated, finally putting his phone down. "That's that team ESPN had ranked #1 before we started climbing."
"That's right. Tomorrow's for all the marbles. Tournament championship. National recognition. Everything we've worked for."
Taylor looked around the table at each player.
"But after what I saw in that second half today, after watching y'all lock in and execute like champions... I like our chances."
The team exchanged looks, the excitement building.
"One more game," Tristain said quietly, putting his phone away. "One more opportunity to show the world what we're about."
"One more game," the team repeated.
Later today would be their biggest test yet. But after proving they could dominate when locked in, the Flight Boys were ready for whatever came next.
Championship game. This is what we came for.