I’m Not Becoming Spider-Man - Chapter 19: Flash Thompson (Patreon)

But... things were looking pretty bad for Midtown.

Phillips High had dominated the first half. Midtown couldn't find an opening to attack at all. Even Flash Thompson, one of their main offensive players, had been forced back to help defend.

“This really doesn't look good...” Harley said, sipping her Coke. She didn't know much about football, but surely a team that stayed pinned in its own half without ever attacking was going to lose.

“This doesn't seem fair,” Gwen said. “Those guys clearly aren't beginners.”

She had a point. Phillips had much better teamwork, and the difference in the teams' training was obvious. Both squads had plenty of new players, but Phillips still worked together far more smoothly than Midtown.

“Maybe that's what you get from an elite education,” Peter suggested.

“COME ON, MIDTOWN!” Annoyed by his remark, Harley shouted her encouragement again.

Unfortunately, just as she called out, a Phillips player broke through with the ball and scored a touchdown. The referee's whistle confirmed it. Midtown had fallen behind.

“Oh... God. Maybe I shouldn't have shouted that...”

“You idiots! Haven't you got any strength? Why do you keep giving ground?!” Thompson roared at his teammates, his face bright red. “All you have to do is push them back!”

The other players flushed with embarrassment. Finally, one of them spoke up. “Flash, couldn't you slow down a little? We haven't even had time to cover you before you charge ahead!”

“Because you're all too slow! By the time you catch up, the other team has its defenses set!”

They began shouting at each other. Thompson even grabbed the other player's jersey and raised his fist angrily.

“Hey, hey! Flash! Have some water! Knock it off. They're all laughing at you!”

Peter tossed him a bottle. Thompson caught it and looked around. Sure enough, the Phillips players were watching the argument and laughing. He swallowed his anger, squeezed the water bottle over his head, and let the cold water calm him down.

The teammate he'd been arguing with gave Peter a grateful look.

“Listen, man, they're clearly stronger,” Peter said, patting Thompson on the shoulder. “This is the time to use your head.”

“My teammates are useless! What am I supposed to do?!” Thompson snapped. “Hell, I bet even you'd be better than them!”

“I don't know the rules of football, Flash. But you're the star player. Think back to the games you've watched. What tactics have you seen? How would you handle something like this?”

“I... Damn it! What can I do? These guys are as slow as turtles! They can't keep up with me at all! Wait... turtles? That's it! I've got an idea! You're all right, Peter. You've got more brains than the lot of them!”

“Huh?”

What did I do that was so smart?

“Everybody, over here!” Thompson summoned his teammates into a huddle and began adjusting their strategy.

“Did you just go over there to coach them?” Harley asked when Peter came back. “You really learned enough to do that from watching one game?”

“Not a chance, Harley. I just went to calm Flash down. Otherwise, we'd be going home without scoring a single point.”

“We shouldn't have cheered so soon,” Harley muttered. “They're laughing at us again.”

“Who cares?” Gwen shrugged. “People who hoot like gorillas aren't exactly known for their intelligence.”

“I hope you're not talking about Thompson...”

The short break ended, and play resumed.

Midtown immediately pulled into a tight, defensive formation, abandoning any attempt to attack. Phillips didn't know what to do with it. They charged again and again, failed to break through, and wasted their energy.

As time passed, Phillips kept searching for an opening. The moment they grew careless, Thompson seized his chance. He snatched the ball, burst through the defense, and sprinted all the way into the end zone.

“I AM FLASH!” Thompson bellowed.

“That's so embarrassing,” Gwen said with a blank expression. “Does anyone actually shout their own nickname like that?”

I hope you remember saying that when you start calling yourself Spider-Woman.

“It's fine,” Peter said. “Once Thompson grows up, he'll probably erase this moment from his memory all by himself.”

“Wait, you got that on camera?”

“Of course. I'll even add a caption.” Peter cleared his throat and put on a deep, dramatic voice. “The headline will read: 'I AM FLASH!'”

“Oh, God!” Gwen laughed. “You've got to keep that. Show it to him if we ever have a reunion.”

“At least they're tied now,” Harley said. “I wouldn't mind if it ended like this.”

After another short break, Midtown went straight back into its turtle formation and stubbornly ran down the clock.

The match became painfully dull. Spectators began losing interest, while Phillips struggled with a strategy they'd never encountered before. Eventually the clock ran out with the score level, sending the game into overtime.

Phillips was still trying to work out how to break Midtown's defensive wall when Thompson suddenly charged out with the ball. He slipped past several players and came within a breath of reaching the scoring line.

Then a mass of defenders piled onto him, bringing him down in a chaotic tangle of bodies. That was precisely the kind of action football fans wanted to see, and the stands came alive with cheers again.

Midtown had pushed deep into Phillips territory, but advancing any farther was another matter. The other offensive players were being shut down. Thompson himself had three defenders on him, and nobody else could find a way past the wall.

The seconds of overtime ticked away. Trapped in the scrum, Thompson gasped for breath and clutched the ball to his chest as several opponents forced him backward.

“Damn it...” He gritted his teeth so hard they nearly cracked. If only he had another strong teammate to share the pressure. But right now, there was nobody else who could do it for him.

“FLASH!”

It was Peter's voice again. Thompson looked toward the stands and saw Peter standing on his seat, giving him a huge thumbs-up.

Thompson backed up a few steps and planted his feet. Then he drove into the defenders like a raging bull, shoving several aside. The ball almost slipped from his arms as he threw himself forward.

TWEEEEET!

The whistle sounded. The game was over!

“HAHAHAHA! I... I AM FLASH!”

Thompson threw the ball aside, and his Midtown teammates rushed over, hoisted him up, and tossed him into the air.

“FLASH! FLASH! FLASH THOMPSON!”

High above their heads, Thompson grinned so broadly that all his teeth showed. He gave Peter a thumbs-up across the field, then turned the thumb toward his own chest.

“Now he's really a superstar,” Harley muttered.

“Well, he earned it,” Peter said with a smile. “Look at that. He actually used his brain.”