The Wildcats started the final drive deep in their own territory, with the pressure mounting with every play. Jordan took the snap, feeling the weight of the moment as he dropped back into the pocket. The clock was ticking, and they needed to move quickly.
The first pass was a short out route to Chris, picking up five yards. The next was a quick slant, gaining another six and moving the chains. The offense was moving, but the clock was working against them. Every second that ticked away felt like a hammer to Jordan's chest.
The play call came in: a deep post to Chris. Jordan knew this was their chance. He took the snap, dropping back, his eyes locking onto his receiver. Chris sprinted down the field, cutting toward the middle as the safety tried to close in.
Jordan launched the ball, watching as it soared through the air. It felt like time slowed down as Chris leaped into the air, his hands outstretched. The crowd held its breath.
Chris came down with the catch, rolling to the ground as the stadium erupted in cheers. They were in field goal range now, with time for one more play before the kick. Jordan jogged to the sideline, the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
The kicker lined up for the 35-yard field goal, the pressure palpable. Jordan watched from the sideline, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it. Everything came down to this moment.
The ball was snapped, the kick was up—and the stadium went silent. The ball sailed through the air, curving slightly to the left.
It hit the upright.
The clang of the metal echoed through the stadium as the ball bounced back into the field of play. The Wildcats had lost.