Wave after wave of energy rolled through the stadium. The wind grew stronger with each passing second.
However...
Lance remained unfazed, continuing to accelerate. His focus was entirely on driving his legs harder and sprinting faster. The muscles in his calves felt like they were exploding, but the energy just kept coming.
From five yards to ten yards, in just a few swift steps, he had already crossed the mark—
First down, secured.
At the same time, the second safety lunged in for a tackle.
But none of the Trojans expected this to be the beginning of their nightmare.
"Five yards, breaks the tackle!"
"Oh my God!"
"Lance, the Crimson Tide's number 23, explodes with power, using the momentum of his sprint to shake off the tackle, knocking the defender to the ground and gaining more yards."
"McCoy! This is exactly like LeSean McCoy!"
"Even without a size or strength advantage, he's using his speed to win the battle."
"Ten yards, absolute speed!"
"Wow!"
"I mean, WOW! Number 23 just used unbelievable acceleration to leave USC's number 35 flailing in the dust."
"Incredible!"
"The Trojans' front line defense was so packed and strong, but now the Crimson Tide's number 23 has completely broken through."
"Fifteen yards!"
"Twenty yards!"
"What are we witnessing here?"
"The midfield line is getting close, and the Trojans' secondary is closing in fast. The safeties and cornerbacks are trying to surround him, but they're being obstructed."
"The Crimson Tide seems to know this tactic well. Their wide receivers and tight ends are perfectly positioned to block the defenders, giving number 23 room to advance. The Trojans' secondary can't collapse quickly enough to stop him."
"Wait."
"Wait, what's that sound?"
A surge of heat, a wave of Crimson Tide, and a roaring storm were building energy inside AT&T Stadium.
Terry Clark: I've seen this before! We've all seen this before!
Terry, the father of Crimson Tide running back Ronnie Clark, was there. Even though his son was the third-string running back, this was likely to be his first time representing the Crimson Tide. It was a moment of immense pride for the Clark family, and Terry wasn't going to miss it.
He had traveled all the way to Arlington, hoping to witness his son take the field.
But before Ronnie even got a chance, the Crimson Tide's biggest dark horse and greatest hope of the season was already stirring up a storm at AT&T Stadium.
Suddenly, Terry leaped to his feet, swinging his fists in the air and shouting with all his might.
"Roar!"
This wasn't just Terry Clark. Thousands of Crimson Tide fans had witnessed this scene before, from the intra-squad games to the warm-up matches.
Many had doubted it. Maybe this number 23 was just a flash in the pan, or maybe he could only perform well in internal scrimmages but would falter against outside competition. After all, the void Derrick Henry left was huge, and it seemed impossible for any one running back to fill it. Some thought it might take two or three running backs combined to replace him.
But…
Despite the doubts and worries, seeing number 23 sprinting full force down the field brought back memories for all of them.
"Roar!"
One voice after another, gradually building, until when number 23 crossed the midfield line, it all came together.
"Roar... roar... roar..."
The chant grew faster and louder, emotions surging. When number 23 stiff-armed a defender trying to bring him down, the crowd erupted into pure ecstasy.
Terry could feel his heart pounding in his chest, each beat reverberating in his ears as he screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice lost in the sea of roaring fans. And as number 23 reached open field—
There were no more obstacles.
"Ah!"
The crowd roared.
"Ahh, ahh!"
They leapt into the air.
"Ahhh…"
They released all their energy.
AT&T Stadium was now a sea of Crimson Tide.
It wasn't just the crowd; even the announcers were stunned. Even though they had done their research and had some knowledge of number 23, they were still left speechless.
"Incredible! Wow, this is just so unexpected, so shocking, such a game-changer!"
"Lance, number 23 of the Crimson Tide… yes, Lance."
"On the very first play of the game, taking advantage of his teammates' blocking, he found a gap in the defense and didn't just secure the first down but showed off his amazing speed and talent with a 75-yard touchdown run, reminiscent of LeSean McCoy."
"Wow."
"How did this happen?"
"Maybe Trojans' coach Clay Helton anticipated a strong ground attack from the Crimson Tide, but he surely didn't expect to be hit this hard right out of the gate."
In the end zone, Lance didn't go wild with celebration.
The "5-2" formation, with its crowded front-line defense, was old-fashioned and rigid but effective. In football, having a numbers advantage was an unbreakable truth. Lance hadn't underestimated his opponents. In fact, he had approached this game more seriously than the one against Clemson.
After all, Clemson was more about handling individual star players. But facing USC meant taking on an entire team.
Lance had mentally prepared for some tough drives, expecting to run into a few walls. But now—
That's it?
Honestly, he had just been aiming for a first down, thinking he'd take it slow and steady, one down at a time. But somehow, it had turned into a touchdown.
Lance felt a bit awkward. This was supposed to be a team effort, but it had turned into a solo performance.
Turning around, Lance saw his teammates rushing toward him with huge grins on their faces. He quickly raised his right hand and motioned for them to keep it low-key.
Among the crowd, he felt a burning, intense gaze fixed on him. Even if Lance wanted to ignore it, he couldn't escape the heat on the back of his neck.
Instinctively, Lance looked over and saw number 9.
Wait, what was number 9's name again?
The coaches and Humphrey had mentioned him more than once, but Lance just couldn't remember. He only knew he was part of the offense, but not someone he needed to focus on.
Still, Lance believed in being friendly, a core value of his culture. So, he smiled at number 9 and even waved at him:
Keep up the good work, buddy.
JuJu Smith-Schuster saw Lance's gesture, and his face turned as dark as a thundercloud. Was that guy mocking him? What was with the fist pump and wave?
Damn it!
JuJu: Damn it, damn it, damn it!
He had thought number 23 was just a showpiece, a smokescreen Saban was using to distract them. But now, he had scored on the very first drive?
He actually scored?!
It was one thing to get beaten, but to have it happen so swiftly and painfully? Even though the Trojans weren't known for their defense, and even though the "5-2" formation was set up to stop the run, they had still let the other team break through and score a touchdown.
What now?
We need to strike back. We have to.
Suddenly, JuJu snapped out of it. Throwing his towel to the ground in frustration, he knew that as long as they could march down the field and score a touchdown right away, they could still get back in the game.
Though both JuJu and Lance played on offense and would never face off directly, their roles in the game made them rivals in their own way.
A spark of determination lit up JuJu's face. He knew exactly how to get back at Lance.
"Sam?"
"Sam!"
JuJu called out to quarterback Sam Darnold, his eyes full of hope.
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