Well, if Clive isn't so tough, let's weaken the enemy

 His sweaty palm grapsed the ball. "Man," he thought. "These guys are kill him. And me as well. There's gotta be a way to weaken them." He thought hard. Looking at Wayne, he noticed a bulge in his ankle where it was wrapped. He had been hurt in a game about a night before. 

 "I'd love to see him and his buddies fight if they couldn't walk," he whispered. Before he realized what he had said, the ball turned a dull blue. Wayne took a step toward Hillman and fell instantly, screaming in pain. The other two goons tried to help him, but stumbled on each other. They collapsed into a table, writhing in pain as one's leg went completely askew, and the other gripped his knee.

 Clive and Hillman looked at each other, not believing their luck. Hillman turned as he heard Becca screaming, "NO! STOP! Let him go!"  He saw brad grabbing a beer bottle and breaking it on the wall. He had a bleeding welt on his forehead from where the ball hit him and a drunken, crazed stare transfixed on Hillman.

 "This time, I'm gonna finish it," He breathed heavily and started advancing on Hillman.