A game of strategy, counter-strategy—
The battle between coaches Orgeron and Saban unfolded, and this time, the experienced Saban came out on top. With two consecutive ground attacks creating opportunities, they used a quick short pass to disguise a fake pass-run play, seizing the initiative.
LSU's defense immediately realized that the Crimson Tide's offense seemed to have found its rhythm, and their response lagged, opening a crack in their defense.
However!
Even after the trials of the first half, LSU's defense was under severe pressure. They had been forged in the fire and had ingrained their defensive tactics into their bodies. Their ability to react quickly helped them stay in the game. Riley was the first to move.
Lance.
Riley's eyes were fixed on Lance, fully aware of his assignment. The misdirection and trickery hadn't completely fooled him.
Stepping up, sprinting, like a tiger descending the mountain.
Riley locked onto Lance. In just two strides, he pounced, his eyes lighting up with anticipation. The same defensive setup had worked in the first half, uncovering the Crimson Tide's various attempts at deception. This time would be no different—he was certain he'd bring Lance down, just like before.
—Bang!
A figure shot out from Riley's left, crashing into him with the force of a truck. It was a bone-shattering collision that sent Riley flying, his center of gravity destroyed as the powerful impact ripped him off course.
Riley: ...What just happened?
In competitive sports, even the slightest hesitation or doubt can change everything. The quick short pass hadn't altered Riley's focus, but it created just enough of a distraction. And then—
Tight end O.J. Howard, with perfect timing, delivered a block that sent Riley sprawling.
Riley was knocked off his feet by Howard's block.
The first obstacle to stopping Lance, gone.
On the sidelines, Orgeron felt his heart skip a beat. The first barrier designed to halt Lance's speed had failed, and the pressure on LSU's defense surged in an instant.
Indeed, that's exactly what happened.
Lance, now free, moved laterally, using Howard's block to create space to his right. A clear lane of about five to seven yards opened up in front of him—ready for takeoff.
Digging in his cleats, Lance surged forward.
In an instant, Lance's explosive speed kicked in. Like a gust of wind, he shot forward, and within two or three strides, he was already accelerating.
His mind remained calm.
His vision stayed sharp.
Lance hadn't forgotten the constant struggles from the first half, where he repeatedly hit walls. Though they had broken through the first line of defense, he knew LSU's defense would have backup plans. He couldn't get too carried away; he had to seize this rare opportunity.
Sure enough!
A figure appeared on his right—LSU's standout cornerback, Tre'Davious White, stepping up at the perfect moment.
Accelerate.
Lean in.
Lance didn't slow down. Instead, he sped up even more, leaning his body left to avoid White's outstretched arms trying to disrupt him.
Whoosh.
The wind howled past, and from the corner of his eye, Lance saw White stumble and fall in a clumsy heap behind him, leaving chaos in his wake.
On his left, Beckwith and Adams were rapidly closing in, one ahead of the other.
In the first half, Lance had made some progress, but LSU's second and third lines of defense had closed in quickly, cutting off his path before he could make any real headway. Beckwith and Adams were about to do the same.
The difference was, this time, Lance's speed was fully unleashed.
With a quick glance to his left, Lance didn't back down. Instead, he charged head-on toward Beckwith.
Beckwith assumed Lance would repeat his earlier tactic and braced himself for the impact, ready for a full-on collision. He lowered his speed and center of gravity, preparing to shoulder the blow.
But the expected impact never came.
Beckwith: Huh?
Instead, a gentle breeze passed by, like a soft gust of wind. Lance had swiftly sidestepped him, as if dancing around a tornado, and darted past on Beckwith's left.
Light, agile, and smooth.
This was the brilliance Lance had showcased all season in the NCAA.
Beckwith didn't even have time to shout before his body lost balance and he went down, having missed the tackle entirely. Instinctively, he reached out with his left hand, trying to grasp that fleeting figure.
But it was too late.
Lifting his legs in a fluid, leaping motion, Lance evaded Beckwith's outstretched hand, as though he had eyes on the back of his head. His nimble footwork left Beckwith grasping at air.
The green grass loomed large in Beckwith's vision. Just before hitting the ground, he caught a glimpse of Adams closing in, thinking that Lance had run straight into a trap with no more room to evade.
Beckwith smiled.
But then he heard a roar.
Lance truly had no energy left to evade any further.
After two strong changes of direction and using high-knee strides to shake off Beckwith, Lance's balance and speed were teetering, on the verge of collapse.
Stumbling forward, Lance barreled into Adams' waiting arms.
So, was it the same as all those failed attempts in the first half?
No.
Definitely not.
Pushing off with his feet, pushing harder, Lance didn't surrender. His calves exploded with power, and he unleashed every ounce of remaining strength. With each step, he accelerated, crashing headlong into Adams' tackle.
Would he use the same trick he had just used on Beckwith?
Was Lance planning to dodge Adams again?
Not this time. Adams had prepared for that, launching himself at Lance before he could take another step.
A leap, a tackle, a collision!
Boom!
A deafening crack.
Lance and Adams collided.
But what they saw next stunned everyone—Adams, like a kite with a broken string, was sent flying.
Hah!
The entire stadium gasped.
Lance hadn't dodged. He had met Adams head-on, pushing off with his left hand in a straight-arm stiff-arm move. With the force of a battering ram, he knocked Adams aside.
Few people focus on this, but the iconic pose of the Heisman Trophy—a player holding the ball with one hand, stiff-arming with the other—symbolizes one of the most essential aspects of football.
And this was it.
Adams had charged in, but Lance had powered through.
Both players had tried to take control, trying to strike first, but Lance got there first—
With the stiff-arm move, not only did Lance block Adams, but he also combined his body weight and strength into one powerful move.
Clenching his jaw, Lance unleashed everything he had.
Strength versus strength.
Lance, with overwhelming force, broke through Adams.
Adams' shoulder took the brunt of the blow, throwing him off balance. His body spun out of control, and panic filled his eyes as he tumbled away like a top, while dazzling lights swirled all around him. A booming sound echoed through the field, drowning everything out.
Boom.
The heavy collision between Lance and Adams reverberated across the field, shaking the ground and sending shockwaves through the air.
And then—
The impenetrable wall standing before the Crimson Tide finally broke, shattered like ice breaking apart under pressure. The thick, solid defense split open.
A beam of light broke through, revealing a whole new world ahead.
At last!
Lance could see the brilliant, dazzling vista at the edge of the horizon.
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Powerstones?
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