What was LSU's strategy to stop Lance on the ground?
Speed.
They knew that Lance's strength lay in his speed and explosiveness, and his weakness was in power and physical confrontation. So, they used two linebackers to shadow him—Riley and Beckwith, acting as a double insurance. One would disrupt Lance's start, while the other would use their numbers advantage to smother him, much like piling sandbags.
This strategy was based on all of the Crimson Tide's games up to this point.
To be fair, LSU had conducted a thorough analysis of Lance, developing a specific game plan. They even considered the gaps in Alabama's offensive line and tight end play, focusing entirely on shutting down Lance.
It's true that whether it was Peterson's training template or McCoy's drills, Lance's acceleration and speed had been game-changers. But they forgot one key reason why Coach Burns valued Lance so highly:
His agility.
Now, Lance was ready to unleash his Super Saiyan form and face the challenge head-on.
"Set!"
Hurts' voice split the air, and Lance burst into action. He paused briefly next to Hurts, securing the ball smoothly.
Despite the third-and-six situation, Coach Saban stuck with the ground game, trusting Lance to bear the weight of this critical play.
After all, the score was still 0–0. The Crimson Tide were struggling but not losing. There was still time to set up a winning strategy.
Holding the ball, Lance didn't rush forward immediately.
If he moved too quickly, with Riley locked onto him, Lance would struggle to escape. Instead, he decided to retreat momentarily, creating space.
He wasn't standing still but was carefully adjusting his steps, shifting his center of gravity and looking for an opening to move laterally.
Lance knew that as soon as he created space, Beckwith and Adams would close in on him. They were aware of Lance's ability to break free along the sidelines. It was as if they had set up a maze of traps, like in an Indiana Jones adventure, each one ready to ensnare him.
Earlier in the game, Lance had tried to break through on the edge, but the results were lackluster.
The core issue was that Beckwith and Adams were quick to close in, leaving Lance little room to exploit his speed.
Now, Lance was planning to approach things differently.
If the defense wasn't giving him space, he would create it himself.
His steps danced laterally behind the line of scrimmage, patient and calculating. After two crossover steps, Riley surged forward.
Aggressive. Assertive. Hungry for the tackle.
This had been a defining characteristic of LSU's defense all game—they were relentless, always trying to snuff out Alabama's ground game before it could gain traction. After several successful stops, the young defenders had become increasingly bold, and in their growing overconfidence, cracks were starting to appear.
Riley took the first step forward.
Like a tiger pouncing on its prey, he launched himself at Lance.
Beckwith, sensing something was off, hesitated for a split second before following suit.
But by the time Beckwith reacted, Lance had already slipped past Riley. Their layered defense, designed to trap Lance, had suddenly developed a three- to four-step gap, and Beckwith's internal alarm bells started ringing.
What just happened?
One moment, Riley confidently went in for the tackle, certain that he could bring Lance down—after all, he had done so multiple times already today.
The next moment, Riley saw only a blur. Lance made a series of quick sidesteps, weaving left and right with such fluidity and precision it looked like he was dancing. Riley instinctively tried to follow but couldn't keep up, his feet stuck in place as Lance breezed past him.
Riley's eyes widened in disbelief. He reached out with his right hand, trying to grab anything he could.
But Lance had already anticipated this. He gracefully curved his path, twisting his body to dodge Riley's grasp and sprinted forward.
Riley missed entirely, his hand grasping nothing but air.
Though his body was still standing, he felt paralyzed, like a mummy bound in place, helplessly watching Lance disappear.
It was okay, though. There was still the secondary layer of defense. Lance hadn't crossed the line of scrimmage yet, and if they could tackle him here, they'd still force a loss of yards. Riley felt reassured.
His thinking was sound.
Even though Lance had juked past Riley, he hadn't gained significant yardage yet. In front of him were Beckwith and Adams.
A wall of defense still stood between Lance and a successful play.
But this time, was Lance really setting himself up for failure?
No.
Definitely not.
Lance had created a three-step window, just enough to accelerate.
His mind focused entirely on one thing:
Push off. Push off. Push off!
Boom. Boom. Each time Lance's feet hit the ground, he could feel the force exploding through him, his muscles propelling him forward.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
Then—
Roll.
Lance didn't dodge; he charged straight into Beckwith, colliding with raw power. It was a test of strength, energy exploding on impact.
Beckwith grunted.
Lance roared.
In that moment, Lance flipped the script. His strength surged, lighting up every nerve in his body.
"Ahhhhhh!"
One step.
Another step.
Lance pushed Beckwith backward, inch by inch.
Beckwith felt like a bullet train had slammed into his chest, his balance crumbling as he was tossed aside. He had no time to react—just a gasp as he was hurled out of the play.
It was a total demolition.
Beckwith couldn't believe it. Who said Lance lacked power? Damn it!
And Lance?
He stayed alert.
He had bulldozed through Beckwith, and daylight opened up ahead, but Lance didn't relax. He knew it wasn't over.
Sure enough, a sudden hit from the side caught his waist—Adams had made the tackle.
Got him!
Adams, LSU's star player and the backbone of their defense, had anticipated Lance's move and was quick enough to follow. While Beckwith was sent flying, Adams arrived just in time to grab Lance around the waist.
Fast. Accurate. Relentless.
The tackle was dead-on.
But would Lance be stopped so easily?
No way.
Lance was ready. Even as he slammed into Beckwith, he could sense Adams closing in. Instead of retreating, he met the tackle head-on.
After all, this wasn't the first time Lance had faced this situation today. If he hadn't learned his lesson by now, he might as well go home and sell potatoes.
Lance pushed off the ground again, driving into the collision.
Boom!
Both Lance and Adams strained under the impact, their bodies jolted as energy pulsed through them. Their chests tightened, their blood surged.
But this time, with the momentum on his side, Lance had the upper hand.
Drawing power from deep within, Lance channeled it into his legs, pushing off the ground—
One more time.
"Ahhh! Ahhh!"
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates