tagInterracial LoveNecessary Roughness: 4th Quarter

Necessary Roughness: 4th Quarter

byMrRandyWatson©

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. It involves both real and fictional people and organizations. It is not necessarily an accurate depiction of how the real people depicted are in real life. The real people used are mainly background characters there for context. The central characters to the story are primarily fictional. Any portrayal of a real person has an element of fiction to it and is in no way meant to be an accurate representation of that person.

This story plays out similarly to a sports movie, and sports movies are my primary inspiration. I set the story around an NFL team, specifically the Miami Dolphins. I am basing the team loosely off the 2015 team, including the roster and list of opponents, but some players and coaches - and the schedule itself - will be fictional.

Also, this story depicts very rough sex and a lot of crass language. If you are offended by that or do not wish to read about such topics, I suggest you stop reading now.

This is the final installment. Enjoy.


*****

(Levi's Stadium, Super Bowl Sunday, 2:00 pm local time)

Well, this is it - or it will be it in 90 minutes or so when kickoff is scheduled. The closing line is sixteen and a half - against us. I'd bet on us, but there's a whole load of ethical issues with that.

It turns out Gretchen's new girlfriend has no qualms about betting on us - ten thousand dollars on us. To win. Apparently such a bet pays 16-1. That's frightening - for every one win by us, 16 or more for Dallas. Including the famous Madden sim of the game - in that one, we go down 38-10. I guess Aisha's stuck watching her old team crush her new one. At least on paper.

I only have a short time between the last coaches' meeting and the pre-game talks. That means a little winder during which Aisha's agreed to meet me - that's how it's been, like clockwork, every week.

So I head out - it's a little chilly but not bad. I find a closet we can go into - and wait. And wait. And it's getting to be time. Seriously, she picks the Super Bowl to give me blue balls? What is this shit?

The only visit I get is from Jerry Jones' entourage on the way up to their pimped-out owner's suite. Jones is the first to speak. "Good luck, Coach," he tells me. "You'll need it."

"Excuse me?" I fire back. "Are you trying to start something?"

"If I wanted to start something," he snipes, "I would. I can have my guys take you down like that."

"Is that a threat?" I counter. "Look, Mr. Jones--Jerry. Let's dispense with the formalities here; you're the son of a bitch who fired my girlfriend anyway." Go figure; he doesn't remember doing that. When I refresh his memory, he just seems to know her as 'the black lady.' Never mind that her name shouldn't be that hard for him to recall, seeing as how he has a cornerback with the same last name as Aisha, and judging by his appearance, plenty of makeup made by a woman with that name as well. I guess he has to look good for TV.

I start seeing double, almost scatterbrained. I can't think straight, partially due to rage and partially due to the fact that I'm used to having a ton of clarity before each game. Having my girlfriend give me a blow job before each game has done wonders for me - it's not just a superstition; it's actually very beneficial. But at this point, even a distracted Lazor is more useful than me running the offense. I guess he can go out in a blaze of glory in his last game as our offensive coordinator.

We're technically the road team, so we get to call the coin - heads till you're dead. We lose the toss and Dallas defers, giving us the ball in the first half.

Jarvis Landry gets the ball at the 1 and runs it back out - something seems off. And it gets more off as he reaches the 5 - he fumbles the ball. Dallas recovers on our 4, and Tony Romo completes the first pass of the game to Jason Witten, and once again, we're down 7-0 right away. Damn.

The next kickoff goes a little better - as in, we hang onto it. We go three-and-out, with Tannehlll throwing two incomplete passes - one to Deon, who doesn't have a prayer of catching it - and a run up the middle for no gain.

The defense looks OK, though, as the Cowboys only manage one first down before the drive stalls. Landry gets the return - and does remarkably well, getting us to the 32. Tannehill stalls at fourth and two, leaving Franks to get a 41-yard field goal and we're within 7-3.

Tony Romo quickly picks apart our D, though, as he reaches the Dolphins 10. He throws three straight incompletions, though, and the Cowboys settle for a field goal. With a minute and change left in the first, it's 10-3 Dallas. We're hanging on by our fingernails.

At least we are until third and 10 at our own 20. Two runs - one for a loss and one for a gain of one - leave us in a tough position. As the game clock ticks to four seconds, Tannehill takes the snap and finds Greg Jennings. He fires a perfect strike.

Morris Claiborne - to think Jerry Jones couldn't remember the name Claiborne - darts in front of the pass and picks it off. Untouched, he dashes for the end zone, and as time expires in the first quarter, the Cowboys are up 17-3.

After a timeout for the end of the quarter, we take the field for the ensuing kickoff. I'm sure the stat is going up all over CBS right now - the largest comeback in Super Bowl history? Ten points. The Redskins in the 1980s, the Saints in their miracle season, and the damn Patriots in the should-have-just-run-Marshawn bowl. These were all hardly miracles by underdogs; rather, they were teams who belonged with their opponents fighting tooth-and-nail to get back.

This? This isn't like that at all, as Tannehill goes three-and-out again and the Cowboys take over near midfield. Tony Romo looks sharp as a tack, taking the Cowboys down the field for another touchdown. We spend most of the second quarter down 24-3, until the Cowboys nicely end the second quarter on a Dan Bailey field goal, burying us in a 24-point hole.

I'm a fucking mess. I'm guessing Bill is a mess, too, except he can just scoot off to New York in a week and get the hell out of town. Frankly I'd like to do the same. I'd head back to Auburn, but it - you know what? I don't even care.

But before I get to the locker room, I'm led away - not even sure by what at first, but someone grabs my hand and redirects me. If it's one of Jones' people threatening me, well, what's he going to do? Screw up the Super Bowl win by bullying an opposing coach? Tom Brady had to go to court over a deflated football. I'm sure he doesn't need a scandal like that to make the Cowboys look bad, but then again, this is Jerry Jones we're talking about.

I look up - it's Aisha. "Hey there, stallion," she greets me - with a kiss after that. Her hands start to wander lower and lower - she looks good as usual, but it's a bad time. "Sorry I missed you before the game--"

"Yeah, it's a little late now," I answer, but she just takes me in a room and goes right to work.

She undoes my fly, hardening my cock as I just relax and let her do her work. She starts with her hands but moves quickly to her mouth, licking and sucking the head of my cock as quickly as possible. She's wasting no time, as if to get me to cum as fast as possible.

I want this so bad, of course - I moan softly, not trying to make noise, as she works over my shaft. She bobs her head faster, pleasing me like no one else can.

Right away, she has me on edge, sliding her tongue along the base of my shaft. She takes it all in, working me faster, pinning me against the wall as I begin to climax. "Fuck," I mutter as she sucks me like a goddess.

She takes my load in her sweet mouth as I relax, my mind clearing as my balls drain. I expect nothing less than Aisha's wonderful work, and I can think of nothing else as she does it. She's the perfect woman - Gretchen is right.

She stands up and kisses me on the cheek. "Sorry I waited until halftime," she whispers as she slaps me on the ass. "Now go win the Super Bowl."

I head into the halftime huddle, grab a bottle of water and look around - I feel like I'm in the Matrix. It's all so clear at this point. I look back at the D-line and linebackers when we're getting our asses kicked - watching their hands, replaying it in my mind, hearing their counts, those cards they use, the one that looks like Mr. T in the bottom left with a bucket of KFC and a Great Dane in the top row - fuck. I think I've cracked the code.

I go grab Bill. "We can do this," I sputter. "The Cowboys D has tells like crazy. That card with the KFC on it? It's always a blitz. The head-turn Morris Claiborne does? Short pass defense. That weird snap count throw-off thing? They're just trying to throw us off, but every time they do it--"

"Whatever, Neil," he interrupts. "We lost. Get over it. No one ever comes back from this. Just pack it in and go home." Sheesh. What the fuck, dude.

I walk away and head to our head coach, the apparent miracle worker. "Dan, hear me out," I interrupt. "I've cracked the Cowboys' D." He's listening - probably because he has to interview for this job at the end of the season. So I tell him everything I know, from the Mr. T sign to the snap count, even throwing in something about how out O-linemen are triggering things.

He takes me in an office while Zac Taylor, quarterbacks coach and sex-whisperer extraordinaire, handles the offense. "Neil, where were you in the first half? Now you're on top of things like you normally are." I don't really have an answer. "I'm sure your girlfriend had something to do with it." What? "I caught on when we played the Bills at the end of the season. You and Aisha sneak off somewhere and she does...I don't know what, and then you're good to go. First thing you need to know is this - your secret's safe with me." Good to know. "Second, I need you to run the offense in the second half. Bill's checked out." I've noticed. "Can you do that?" Hell yes I can - I've been brushing up on the finer points. Probably lots of use of that card with the black cat, the Crown Royal bottle, the high-def TV and the picture of Ozzie Smith - that play's a doozy.

"I have a few ideas," I continue. "But I need you to work with me and understand that there's a certain level of what-the-hell in this." He agrees.

We come out of the tunnel roaring, as if we're not down 27-3. The bad news? We have to kick off.

Franks takes the kick - it's an onside kick! Holy shi-oh, who am I kidding? It was my idea.

Franks lands a perfect hop designed to land right at the 45 so we can recover it - and we do. It's our ball at our 46, and I watch the signals - Dallas is showing blitz. I hear Pouncey call out my code word - 'motor head' - and the line adjusts. Tannehill drops back - a quick pass to Jennings for a gain of 24.

Again, we get a signal from Dallas - pass defense. Good thing we know that - and so does Lamar Miller, who gains 12. Three plays later, and Tannehill hits Deon for a touchdown. I look up - a hair over two minutes off the clock, and it's just 27-10.

This time, we actually kick off for real - it's a touchback. Tony Romo lines up and throws it to Dez Bryant - incomplete. Then Adrian Peterson gets it - no gain. Third down ends much the same, and the Cowboys have to punt.

We get it at our 36. Tannehill fires a perfect strike to Stoneburner - this time, no interception, and it's complete for a first down. We're picking apart the Cowboys' D easily, and before long, Knowshon drills a 4-yard run for a touchdown, and we're down by 10.

We line up for another kickoff - onside kick again! This isn't my idea; it must be Dan's. Another perfect hop, another leap - Deon Wright makes the grab. We're in business again, and the offense is back to what it does best - dismantling the Cowboys.

And dismantle them we do - Tannehill hits Deon twice for first downs, and before I know it, we're in the red zone again. After an incomplete pass on first down, Tannehill drops back - and finds a wide-open Deon in the end zone for a touchdown. We're only down by three - and it's been only six minutes and change since the start of the second half. This is almost too easy.

I take a breather as the defense takes the field - at the Dallas 20, where Wake opens the drive with a resounding sack on Romo - and I look up at the fans. Aisha and the girls have seats with the Dolphins WAGs, having asked for seats in the stands instead of in a suite. I wonder what they're missing up there way above the game.

I take out a pair of binoculars - no idea why I have them, but I have a bunch of things on me in these ridiculous cargo pants - and look up at the suites. There's Stephen Ross, our owner, sipping what I hope is a nice drink. Then the next one over - Jerry Jones. He's on a cell phone, and he looks angry. He's pointing at our sideline. Then I see a gesture - a throat-slash. What the hell is he doing?

The Cowboys punt from their own 11, and we get the ball via fair catch at the 48. Jarvis Landry grabs it - what the hell?

Landry goes down like a ton of bricks thanks to a brutal hit. Danny McCray leads with his helmet - what the hell did he miss about the fair catch?

"What the hell was that?" I shout, lining up near a ref and knowing he can hear me. "That's a damn cheap shot! Throw his ass out!"

At least there's a flag - personal foul, late hit. Unfortunately, Landry's being carted off, but there's no ejection. We get the ball on the Dallas 37, first and ten.

Tannehill seems to have shaken off the cheap shot - he hits Greg Jennings for a gain of nine. Second down and one - I see the Cowboys' coaches pointing out Jennings. Tannehill stays away from Jennings - but the Cowboys' D doesn't.

The play is a short pass to Stoneburner, first down - but the real story is the hit on Jennings. Sean Lee's flying leap at Jennings - a blatant helmet-to-helmet hit - leads to another cart-off. We're down a wide receiver.

I turn to an assistant. "Get me the commissioner. Some bad shit's going on." He agrees. This isn't just a coincidence. The Cowboys are going full Longest Yard on our guys - I know it, and I know Jones is behind it. I saw it with my own eyes. These fuckers need to pay.

The Cowboys squeeze this drive to a third and four - Knowshon gets the first down and we're first and goal. The third quarter is ticking away - under two minutes. Tannehill hands it off - no gain. Again - two yards, so it's third and three. This is looking like the last play of the quarter. Tannehill drops back - Stoneburner and Stills are wide open in the end zone. He aims - oh shit.

Greg Hardy comes around the outside. Tannehill lets it go, and a full step later, Hardy takes him down. To make matters worse, Barry Church picks off the pass - and he has daylight.

"Throw the damn flag!" I shout. "Roughing the fucking passer!" Meanwhile, I'm being ignored - Hardy's getting away with the hit, Tannehill's down for the count, and Church is going untouched to the end zone. The third quarter expires, and we're down 34-24 - and a starting quarterback. We're stuck coming back with a backup.

The fourth quarter opens, and we get the ball at our 20. Matt Moore takes the field as quarterback, and after two incomplete passes, Moore simply hands it off to Lamar for a gain of three. At least the attempts on our players' lives have stopped for the time being, and we punt it away.

The Cowboys get a quick first down when Romo hits Dez Bryant to cross midfield. Next comes a run up the middle - Peterson's stuffed for no gain. Romo tosses it wide out to Terrance Williams - Brent Grimes crushes him.

"What the fuck!" This time, Dan's pissed. Someone's getting benched. He grabs Grimes by the face mask. "Don't stoop to their level! This isn't a fucking gladiator match! You want to beat them, do it up there!" The last part as he points to the scoreboard. "Tannehill will be fine! But if we beat the Cowboys, they'll never recover! Now get your ass back in there are do your damn job!" And to think Dan still has to interview for the head coach position after the season. I'm going for it, too, but it's a long shot.

I pull Dan aside. "I saw Jerry Jones up in his suite. He was calling for his guys to cart our guys off." He's stunned - but at least I know. "I have an assistant getting the commissioner's attention. But for now," I seethe, "I want to kick their asses."

The next play is a routine incomplete pass, and the Cowboys line up for a long field goal - 50 yards. The snap is perfect, and Dan Bailey makes the kick - it's long enough, it's got good aim...it's off the crossbar. No good, and we're back in business.

I get an update - turns out Tannehill's OK. He's out for this drive, so Matt Moore has to get it done. Fortunately, Deon's on his game - several short passes, and we're past midfield before too long. Moore is grinding it out - with a lot of help from the running game - and before long, we're in the red zone once again.

However, Moore can't get it done - two incomplete passes, one almost picked off, and a botched handoff that Lamar has to fall on. We settle for a field goal, and we're down 34-27.

Tannehill ends up back from the trainer - he's good to go, but we have to get the ball back. It's under six minutes, and fortunately, the Cowboys are going nowhere. After two incomplete passes, Romo hands it off to Peterson, who's stopped a yard short of the first down, and the Cowboys are forced to punt. So here we are with five minutes left in the game, and we need a touchdown. We did it against the Bills in the snow. Let's get to work.

Tannehill's off his game a bit - the first two passes fall incomplete. Next up is another drop-back - and again, Greg Hardy's on his tail. But Tannehill gets it off on time, and Stoneburner brings it in for a first down. We're still far away, but we have a shot. Lamar takes the ball and gains four. Then again, he gains a first down. Lamar Miller starts shredding the Cowboys' D, and we're almost to midfield.

From our 48, Knowshon gets the ball - gain of two. Next up, and Tannehill drops back once again. And damnit - Hardy's on the loose. Tannehill doesn't see him. He does see Stoneburner, and he fires - this isn't going to land.

I count a full second again - Hardy takes down Tannehill in a blind-side hit. Hardy leads with his head, drilling right into Tannehill's upper back near his neck. Oh fuck - not good. Really not good.

Tannehill doesn't seem to be getting up. Hardy's just standing over him - now's a good time to point out that the pass is incomplete, and we're at third-and-8. Once again, though, there's no flag. I don't even protest - my head is firmly in my hands. It's as if we have to beat the refs and the Cowboys. How in the fuck...I don't even know. The fact that Hardy's going to get in a lot of trouble, and the Cowboys' expected win is going to be tarnished with so much shit, doesn't help. We need a first down.

Then I look over - there's Deon and Trent helping Tannehill up. He shakes it off - he's OK. I don't believe it. Tannehill is OK. Good - we need this.

Third and eight yards to go. Tannehill takes the snap, and two wideouts go deep. Stoneburner stays short - covered. Stills is deep - covered. Knowshon? Too shallow.

And here comes the rush. Hardy again - and this time joined by Anthony Hitchens on defense. Hitchens goes high while Hardy leaps at Tannehill - they have him. It's a sack. He's going - he's not going down.

Tannehill shakes them both and dashes toward the line of scrimmage. He's got Deon deep - around the 20. Deon has Morris Claiborne all over him. Tannehill lets it rip before Tyrone Crawford levels him.

The ball seems to stay in the air forever. Deon has his eye on it. So does Claiborne. I see some jostling for position, but nothing on the level of pass interference. Deon crouches to leap - Claiborne beats him to it. Claiborne has a ton of air while Deon is still waiting.

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