The time had come. Everything we had worked for since August came down to these two days. Every snap, every mile, every moment pushing ourselves to the limit, all of it built toward this chance to hoist that trophy above our heads and call ourselves champions. We had prepared, sacrificed, and bought into something bigger than ourselves. And now it was time to prove it.
We left the school on Wednesday afternoon, the van packed and spirits high, heading up to Space Coast. When we arrived, the atmosphere felt different, like the calm before a storm. Coach JR cooked dinner for us, and while we ate, we held a team meeting to go over the schedule and the plan for the rest of the week. Every word spoken reminded us of the battle waiting for us the next morning. After the meeting, we started getting ready, both mentally and physically, for what we came here to do.
On Thursday morning, we woke up early, had breakfast, and loaded into the van. The drive to Space Coast felt long but focused. Our first opponent: Calvary. Before the game, the All-Conference awards were announced, and Elijah Clark earned the honor for our team. That moment lifted us, proof that hard work pays off, and a reminder of what we were capable of.
Then it was time to warm up. With about fifteen minutes before kickoff, Coach Clark brought us in and reminded us, again and again, that this was our game. Nobody had worked harder. Nobody had pushed the way we had. Nobody could beat us except ourselves. Those words stuck with us, settling deep, fueling us.
And when we stepped onto that field, we delivered. We battled, we executed, and we took the victory against Calvary with a final score of 12–20. After the win, we stayed for a bit to watch Berean, the team we knew we would face the next morning at 11 a.m. We stuck together, supported each other, and even cheered on the volleyball girls, who also came away with victories. It felt like momentum was building not just for one team, but for all of us.
Later, we returned to the house. Some of us celebrated by swimming in the pool, finally allowing ourselves to breathe after the adrenaline. Coach JR cooked chicken fajitas that somehow tasted even better after the win. We went over the game plan again, sharpening our minds and preparing for the challenge ahead. Then we went to sleep focused, hungry, ready to get one step closer to a state championship.
Friday morning came quickly. Breakfast, gear packed, van loaded. We headed back to Space Coast to face Berean, the number one seed in the North. The only time we had seen them play was the day before, when they beat Praise Temple. We knew this matchup was going to be a dogfight. Nothing would be handed to us. But that didn’t matter. We didn’t come here to be handed anything; we planned to take everything.
The game started tough. Berean struck first, taking an early lead. But we weren’t about to fold. We answered back, tying the score, then scoring two more touchdowns. They tried to mount a comeback, but our defense locked in, shut it down, and secured the win over the top-seeded team. That victory hit differently. We had earned it, fought for it, proved ourselves.
Next came the biggest game of the season: the state championship. We would be facing familiar faces, the Liberty Patriots. We had played them twice, each team winning once, leaving the series tied 1–1. This time, the tiebreaker wouldn’t just be for bragging rights. It was for everything.
Before the big game, we had some time to reset. We watched more volleyball games, had some food, and mentally prepared. Then it was game time. We walked onto the field, warmed up, and listened as Coach Clark addressed us.
“I’ve been on a lot of championship teams in college and high school, so I know what champions look like,” he said. “You guys are champions. From everything I put you through in practice for this very moment, never giving up, you’ve earned my respect. Now go out there and win this championship!”
From kickoff, the game was intense. Both teams traded touchdowns, making highlight plays on both sides of the ball. It was everything a championship should be. Liberty went up by four late in the fourth quarter with two minutes left, but we didn’t flinch. We marched onto the field ready for one final stand. This was do or die. This was our moment.
We drove down the field, fighting for every yard. But in the end, we threw a game-sealing interception. Final score: 16–20. We fell short of the trophy but not of greatness.
Even though we didn’t lift that trophy above our heads, we walked off the field as champions. Because champions aren’t defined by what they hold—they’re defined by who they become. And we became something bigger than any trophy could ever tell.
