Miguel watched both teams huddle up during halftime, trying to read body language like his dad taught him.
Flight Boys look mad. Not scared, just mad. That's dangerous.
He could see Coach Taylor drawing plays on a whiteboard, his hands moving quickly while pointing at different players. Tristain was nodding, asking questions, looking like he was downloading a software update.
They're about to do something different. I can tell.
On Raw Miami's side, Antonio was talking animatedly with Carlos, probably discussing coverage they'd seen in the first half. Miguel knew that look - his brother had figured something out.
"Mami, they're gonna change their whole game plan," Miguel told Carmen.
"How you know that, mijo?"
"Look at their coach. He's not happy with just being close. Flight Boys came here to win everything."
Tony better be ready. They're coming.
----
Miguel felt the energy change as soon as Flight Boys took the field. Tristain's first call was different - louder, more confident.
"Gun trips left! Gun trips left!"
Three receivers to one side. They're gonna try to overload our coverage.
Miguel watched Raw Miami's defense scramble to adjust. They were playing with extra safety help over Marcus Walker, but that left other areas vulnerable.
Oh no. They're leaving the middle open.
Tristain took the snap and immediately looked to Elijah running a seam route right up the middle. The big receiver had a step on the linebacker trying to cover him.
He's gone. Oh shit, he's gone.
TOUCHDOWN. Flight Boys 21-20.
Miguel slumped in his seat. "They made it look so easy."
"Es okay, mijo. Still a lot of game left."
Yeah, but they just figured us out. That's what good teams do.
----
Miguel was back on his feet as Raw Miami got the ball. They needed to answer immediately.
Come on, Tony. Show them you can play with anybody.
Carlos brought the team to the line, looking calm despite the pressure. Miguel could see Antonio lined up wide right against Flight Boys' best corner.
"Hut! Hut!"
Antonio ran a double move that made the corner stumble. For a second, Miguel thought his brother was about to score again.
But the Flight Boys safety rotated over at the last second, knocking the ball away.
Damn! So close!
"Language!" Carmen warned automatically.
"Sorry, Mami. But that was right there!"
-----
The next Flight Boys drive, Miguel watched Tristain operate like he was playing a video game on easy mode. Every throw was perfect, every decision was instant.
This dude is not normal. Like, he sees the future or something.
Marcus Walker caught a comeback route for 15 yards, running his route so crisp it looked like a drill. Then Deshawn caught a crossing route that he turned into a 25-yard gain.
They're picking us apart. This is what elite looks like.
Tristain capped the drive with a touchdown pass to Jaylen in the corner of the end zone.
Flight Boys 28-20.
We're losing. For real losing. Not just falling behind - they're better than us right now.
Miguel looked down at Antonio, who was standing on the sideline with his hands on his hips. His brother looked frustrated but not defeated.
Don't give up, Tony. Don't give up.
----
With the fourth quarter starting and Raw Miami down by eight points, Miguel felt panic creeping in.
This might be it. This might be how it ends.
But Carlos seemed to find another gear. He started making throws Miguel had never seen him make before - perfect spirals into tight windows, threading the needle between defenders.
Antonio caught three straight passes, including a beautiful 20-yard touchdown on a corner route that tied the game.
YES! YES! WE'RE STILL ALIVE!
Miguel was jumping up and down, high-fiving strangers, screaming until his throat hurt.
"28-28! We tied it up, Mami! We're still in this!"
Maybe we can do this. Maybe.
----
Flight Boys got the ball back with four minutes left. Miguel's hands were shaking as he watched Tristain jog onto the field.
Please don't score. Please just go three-and-out. Give us one more chance.
But Tristain looked like he was exactly where he wanted to be. No pressure, no hurry, just calm execution.
He found Marcus on a dig route for 18 yards. Then Deshawn on a comeback for 12. Every throw was perfect, every catch was clean.
They're not gonna miss. They're just not gonna miss anything.
With two minutes left, Flight Boys was in the red zone. Miguel was praying to every saint he could remember.
Please. Please. One stop. Just give us one stop.
Tristain dropped back, looked right, then left, then threw a strike to Elijah in the back corner of the end zone.
Touchdown. Flight Boys 35-28.
Miguel felt his heart break a little bit.
It's over. We fought so hard and it's over.
----
Raw Miami got the ball back with 90 seconds left. Miguel was still on his feet because he didn't know what else to do.
Ninety seconds. That's not enough time. Is it?
Carlos started slinging the ball all over the field. He hit Antonio for 15 yards, then another receiver for 20. Flight Boys' defense was playing prevent, giving up the short stuff.
Maybe. Maybe we got a chance.
With 30 seconds left, Raw Miami was at the Flight Boys' 25-yard line. Miguel was hyperventilating.
This is it. This is for everything.
Carlos took the snap, dropped back, and looked for Antonio running a corner route in the end zone. The throw was perfect, the route was perfect.
But the Flight Boys corner made a perfect play, knocking the ball away at the last second.
No. No no no no no.
INCOMPLETE PASS.
Game over. Flight Boys 35-28.
----
Miguel sat in silence as the Flight Boys celebrated on the field. He watched Antonio walking off slowly, his head down.
He played so good though. He belonged out there with those dudes.
Carmen put her arm around Miguel. "I'm proud of your brother. He played like a champion."
"I know, Mami. I just wanted him to win so bad."
Miguel watched as some Flight Boys players came over to dap up Antonio. Tristain was one of them.
At least they got respect for each other. That's something.
He could see Antonio nodding, probably talking about the game. Even in defeat, his brother was learning, growing.
This ain't the end for Tony. This is just the beginning.
-----
As Miguel and Carmen gathered their things, the PA announcer was already setting up the championship game.
"Championship game in one hour! South Florida Elite versus Flight Boys!"
Miguel looked toward the other field where Jordan Banks and Derek Kim were warming up with their team.
Jordan versus Tristain. The main character versus the quiet assassin.
Even though Raw Miami lost, Miguel found himself curious about the championship. He'd seen enough to know it was going to be special.
Flight Boys earned this. They better than us right now. But Jordan and Derek... they got that energy. That confidence.
"We staying for the championship?" Miguel asked his mom.
"You want to?"
Miguel looked at the field where Antonio was still talking to opposing players, still learning, still growing.
Yeah. I want to see how this story ends.
"Yeah, Mami. Let's stay. I want to see who wins it all."
As they found new seats for the championship game, Miguel reflected on what he'd witnessed.
Tony held his own with the best players in the country. He proved he belong. That's something nobody can take away.
But now it was time to watch the two best teams in the tournament battle for everything. Miguel had gone from invested family member to neutral observer, but his appreciation for elite football had grown exponentially.
This about to be crazy. Two undefeated teams, everything on the line.
The championship was about to begin, and Miguel had the best seat in the house to watch history unfold.
FINAL SCORE: Flight Boys 35 - Raw Miami 28
----
As the Flight Boys celebrated their semifinal victory, Tristain was already shifting his mindset to the championship game. The adrenaline from beating Raw Miami was still pumping, but he knew they had less than two hours to prepare for South Florida Elite.
"Good game, bro," Antonio Martinez said, walking over to dap him up. "Y'all earned that shit."
"You too, man. You played hell out there," Tristain replied respectfully. "Keep grinding. You definitely belong at this level."
Antonio nodded, appreciating the recognition. "Go win that championship. Y'all deserve it."
As Antonio walked away, Tristain felt the weight of what was coming next. Jordan Banks and Derek Kim had been talking about this matchup all weekend. Now it was really happening.
"Yo T!" Marcus jogged over, still hyped from the win. "We really in the championship, bro!"
"I know, man. But we ain't done yet," Tristain replied, his voice calm but focused. "Jordan's team been waiting for us all tournament."
"Let them wait," Deshawn said, joining the conversation. "We been ready for this since Chicago."
Coach Taylor gathered the team together before they headed to the locker room.
"Proud of y'all," he said simply. "Y'all executed when it mattered. But we got one more game. The biggest game."
"South Florida Elite," Elijah said. "Jordan's been saying this was destined all tournament."
"Destiny is earned," Xavier said quietly. "We earned our spot. Now we gotta earn the trophy."
Locker Room Reset
In the temporary locker room area, Tristain sat quietly while his teammates celebrated around him. His phone was buzzing with messages - family, friends, college coaches, social media notifications - but he ignored it all.
Championship game. Everything we worked for comes down to the next hour.
"You good, T?" Marcus asked, noticing his quarterback's quiet demeanor.
"Yeah, just thinking. Jordan's been confident all weekend. They been telling everybody they the main characters of this tournament."
"And?" Deshawn said, pulling on a fresh compression shirt. "We been proving them wrong all year."
"Facts," Jamal added. "They good, but we better. We just gotta show it."
Tristain's phone buzzed with a text from Ayana: "Watched every play! One more game and you're champions! I love you ❤️"
He smiled and typed back: "Love you too. About to finish this."
Another text came in from Nadège: "Whole family watching, ti kouzin! Emma been screaming at the TV all game 😂 Finish strong!"
Family's watching. Scouts are watching. The whole football world is watching.
"Thirty minutes until championship!" Coach Taylor announced. "Hydrate, stretch, and get your minds right. This is what we came for."
----
As the team went through their pre-game routine, Tristain found himself thinking about the journey that led to this moment.
Three months ago I was third string. Now I'm about to play for a national championship on ESPN.
He thought about all the early morning workouts with Marcus, the film sessions with Coach Taylor, the chemistry they'd built as a team. All of it had led to this moment.
"Tristain," a voice called out. He looked up to see Derek Kim walking over with that familiar anime-obsessed grin.
"Derek! Y'all ready for this?"
"Bro, this is the tournament arc finale," Derek said excitedly. "Main character versus main character. Jordan been talking about y'all all week."
"Good," Tristain replied. "We been talking about y'all too."
"Real talk though," Derek's expression got serious. "Y'all are nice. Like, really nice. This gonna be a good game."
"Definitely. May the best team win."
"Facts. But just so you know," Derek grinned again, "Jordan really think he's the protagonist of this whole story."
"We'll see about that," Tristain said with a slight smile.
As Derek walked away, Jordan Banks appeared, that same confident energy radiating off him.
"Tristain! My boy! Ready for this main event?"
"Been ready," Tristain replied calmly.
"This is it, bro. Everything we been building to. Two undefeated teams, championship on the line, ESPN cameras everywhere. This is movie shit right here."
"It's just football," Tristain said, but Jordan could see the competitive fire in his eyes.
"Nah, bro. This is more than football. This is legacy. This is who gets remembered as the best team in the country."
Tristain nodded slowly. "Then let's go find out."
----
Coach Taylor called the Flight Boys together for one last team meeting before taking the field.
"Y'all know what this is," he said, looking each player in the eye. "Championship game. Everything we worked for since day one comes down to the next hour."
"South Florida Elite is good. They got talent, they got confidence, and they been waiting for this moment just like us."
"But here's what they don't have," Coach Taylor continued. "They don't have the chemistry we built. They don't have the adversity we overcame. They don't have the heart we showed in Chicago when we was down 21-0."
The team was hanging on every word.
"Jordan Banks thinks he's the main character of this story. Let him think that. Main characters sometimes lose. Teams win championships."
"Execute and dominate?" Marcus asked.
"Execute and dominate," Coach Taylor confirmed.
The team stood up, ready to take the field for the biggest game of their lives.
"Flight Boys on three," Tristain said, putting his hand in the middle of the circle.
"One, two, three..."
"FLIGHT BOYS!"
As they walked toward the field, Tristain felt that familiar calm settling over him. The crowd was huge, the cameras were rolling, and college scouts were everywhere.
But at the end of the day, it was still just seven-on-seven football. And nobody was better at that than the Flight Boys.
Time to show Jordan who the real main character is.
CHAMPIONSHIP GAME: Flight Boys vs South Florida Elite - 6 PM
Everything on the line. Winner takes all.