Burns looked into Lance's clear eyes: he really had no idea. It was obvious that Lance knew nothing about football. So, how should he explain it?
Burns had already scared Lance off once before, and he was determined not to make the same mistake again.
Absolutely not!
With that in mind, Burns quickly backtracked and put on a Buddha-like smile, looking at Lance as if he were a lost lamb. He said with a friendly grin, "No, a running back is an offensive player. We're a bit different from soccer."
As he spoke, Burns pinched his thumb and forefinger together to indicate a small difference, straining his entire face to emphasize just how minor that difference was.
"But trust me, it's not hard, really not hard."
He waved his hands quickly, like Dumbo flapping his ears.
"I truly believe you can shine on the field. You should trust my judgment—you're a genius."
It was obvious Burns was an honest man, not even good at giving compliments, repeating the same few phrases over and over. His attempt at persuasion was clearly lacking.
But Lance remained calm and didn't rush to express his thoughts or opinions. He waited to see what would happen next. Just then, the office door to his right opened.
"Coach Burns."
Turning his head, Lance saw an elderly man with graying hair and a kind, gentle demeanor enter. His face was full of wrinkles, but his eyes were bright, exuding the aura of a scholarly, science professor. He appeared both sharp and charismatic.
This must be Stuart Bell, the new principal who had just taken office last July. According to the university's website, he was 59 years old and had joined the University of Alabama back in 1986.
Bell seemed energetic, with those wrinkles failing to dim the brightness in his eyes. After exchanging greetings with Burns, he turned to look at Lance.
"So, this must be… Lance?"
Lance politely stood up, preparing to shake hands.
But as Bell's gaze followed Lance as he rose, his impression shifted: one moment, Lance seemed like a studious, hardworking student destined for a career as a professor or a broadcaster; the next, as if transforming into the Hulk, Lance's imposing frame and towering presence became overwhelmingly apparent. Before Lance could speak, Bell exclaimed in surprise.
"Wow, now I understand why Coach Burns can't stop praising you."
Then, they shook hands, exchanged a few brief pleasantries, and Bell once again felt the breadth of Lance's hand, large enough to grip a football with ease. He turned to look at Burns.
Without needing to say a word, Burns got the message, giving a slight shrug. "I told you, he's a natural talent."
Bell didn't say much more, making an inviting gesture as he moved to his desk and indicated for Lance and Burns to take their seats.
Bell sat down as well. "Let's get straight to the point."
"Lance, I've reviewed your academic records. You're an outstanding student, and the University of Alabama is very fortunate to have someone as exceptional as you. What happened at the library was purely an accident, and the university should thank you for your bravery. No one wanted the situation to escalate to where it is now."
"I'm very willing to extend a helping hand on behalf of the university."
"But."
After a lengthy preamble, all of it was just fluff—the real point was coming next.
"We're a public university, so we obviously can't be as lavish as private institutions. We have our own difficulties and challenges to manage."
"That's why Coach Burns proposed a plan: if you're willing to play for the university's football team, the school can take care of everything, including the lawsuit and any potential compensation."
"What do you think?"
In fact, thinking of it as a scholarship makes the whole situation much simpler—
You give something, you get something in return. It's a fair deal.
But Lance wasn't a child. He knew the terms couldn't be that simple. As Bell had mentioned, managing finances at a public university wasn't that straightforward.
Lance didn't rush to agree. "I think it's not just about joining the team, right?"
Bell's smile broadened, a hint of admiration in his eyes. "As expected of an all-A student, our journalism department is indeed lucky to have you."
"Of course, joining the team isn't enough on its own. We need to evaluate your performance—whether you're dedicated in training, whether you give your all in games, and so on. Coach Burns will be assessing your performance, and you'll need to meet the standards."
"Additionally, you'll need to play in at least seven games in the next season and achieve certain performance metrics. Coach Burns will also be responsible for grading that."
"If you don't meet the standards, then we'll have to sit down and renegotiate the lawsuit and potential compensation. What do you think?"
There were conditions, certainly, but the real decision-making power rested with Burns.
Lance turned to look at Burns, then thought about the system in his mind.
Even though he had already made up his mind, Lance didn't rush to a conclusion. Instead, he looked at Burns. "Coach, I really don't know anything about football. Are you sure? I don't understand football, but I've at least watched soccer and basketball. It's impossible for an outsider who knows nothing to jump straight into playing in the NCAA."
Burns nodded slightly—
Calm. Wise. Objective.
As expected of a top student, able to analyze the situation even when faced with challenges. This was a rare and valuable quality for a professional player.
In fact, most ball sports require a certain level of game intelligence; football not only requires it but places a heavy emphasis on it because football is renowned for its tactical complexity. A team might have over 20,000 different plays, and players need to do more than just memorize them—they need to apply them flexibly.
The more he understood, the more satisfied Burns became.
Burns also looked at Lance.
"Of course, if you know nothing, it will take some time."
"If it were a position that required highly specialized skills, then yes, some foundational training would be necessary. An outsider jumping in wouldn't work. But honestly, football's barriers aren't as high as you might think. It's not just in college; even in the pros, changing positions is quite common. The real key is tactical coordination."
Burns was doing his best to downplay the difficulties, making it clear that he was trying his utmost to simplify things, emphasizing that football wasn't really that hard.
Really!
"I'm not exaggerating when I say that football is the most tactically demanding team sport. In soccer or basketball, you might see one person single-handedly change the outcome of a game, but in football, that's almost impossible."
"So for a newcomer like you, and especially for the running back position, in terms of technique and physicality, you're already fully prepared."
"The only thing you need to learn is the tactics."
"I believe in your ability."
"Not just here," Burns patted his heart.
"And here," he pointed to his head.
Burns seemed especially enthusiastic, his small, beady eyes sparkling with excitement.