Bang!
A five-man rush! Washington University, with absolute strength and aggression, took the initiative, instantly tearing through Alabama's offensive line pocket and dominating the field at the Georgia Dome.
Hurts felt his heart tighten. As soon as he started to step back, he could feel the gusts of pressure coming at him like ravenous waves. Earlier in the season, this kind of pressure might have caused him to lose his cool, but after being forged through battles, he now remained composed despite the slight tremor in his knees, swiftly pivoting to make the handoff.
Washington University had made their move, but Alabama wasn't caught off guard either.
The cunning Coach Saban had opted for an unexpected strategy to open the game—
A read-option play.
No one would have expected that, right?
It wasn't a strategy Alabama used often this season, but whenever they did, it always brought surprises. The play cleverly combined Hurts' and Lance's abilities, showcasing the Crimson Tide's versatile offensive approach.
Everyone knew about Lance's remarkable skills. Everyone knew about Jackson and Watson excelling at read-options, but they often overlooked Hurts.
This had both advantages and disadvantages.
The main advantage? Lance could act as a decoy while Hurts could pass, or if the defense focused on Hurts, Lance could play to his strengths.
At this moment, it was the latter.
After Hurts received the snap, he quickly noticed Washington's aggressive rush. He retreated, holding the ball, while the defensive line focused solely on him, continuing their relentless pursuit.
Then, with a decisive move, he made the handoff.
Hurts had slipped the ball into Lance's arms and quickly backed away—
Ready to watch the show.
Lance felt a rush of excitement.
For three weeks over the Christmas break, he had trained, but training could never replicate the intensity and thrill of a real game. He had been eagerly awaiting this return to the field.
He craved the challenge, the intensity, and the opportunity to continue growing.
If Washington University had been too intimidated to put up a fight, it would have been dull. But the stakes of the national championship meant the intensity was real, and now he could face a true challenge.
The ball, secure in his grip.
Lance felt the heat bearing down on him, but he didn't rush his movements. Instead, he paused briefly, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene in front of him.
Washington's entire defense had pressed forward aggressively. Not just the defensive line, but even the secondary had moved up with an attacking mindset, crowding the front lines. But to Lance's eyes, their formation was full of gaps.
They weren't used to playing this style of defense; they couldn't compare to LSU's defense. It was clear they were forcing this high-pressure blitz to boost morale and specifically target Alabama. However, in their execution, the positioning and movement were lacking in coordination and thoroughness, leaving vulnerabilities.
An opportunity.
Lance remained calm and composed.
With a push from his legs, he saw a large, cumbersome figure lumbering towards him like a black bear—Washington's defensive tackle, Elijah Qualls.
Qualls, somewhat heavyset, initially aimed for Hurts but had to abruptly change direction after the handoff. His bulky body wasn't helping; his chunky ankles couldn't support a quick pivot, making his movements awkward.
His upper body had turned towards Lance, but his lower body was still pointed at Hurts. His feet stayed put while his torso lunged forward, causing him to stumble clumsily.
Ugh. Ugh, ugh!
Even so, Qualls tried his best. He saw Lance shift to his right and instinctively swayed in that direction, but when Lance cut sharply to the left, Qualls tried to follow but lost his balance completely, toppling over like a capsized fish, belly up and helpless against gravity's pull, crashing down as Lance gracefully slipped past.
"Damn," muttered Qualls.
Lance, effortlessly and smoothly, used Qualls' heavy frame to his advantage, dodging his attempted tackle with a simple sidestep.
Now, the path was open.
Lance dug in, accelerated, and—
His body burst forward like an arrow released from a bow.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a cornerback closing in from his right and a linebacker tightening the gap from his left.
Cornerback Sidney Jones and linebacker Azeem Victor, both players who had impressive seasons, were essential parts of Washington's strong pass defense, especially Jones, who was predicted to be a first or second-round pick.
They both relished the chance to go head-to-head with Lance, eager to prove themselves on the Peach Bowl stage.
The opportunity had come early. Jones and Victor were both amped up, quickly shedding their assigned receivers and closing in on Lance with light, agile steps.
The tension in the air peaked as the three figures converged on a single point.
Thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump. The trio charged at each other with all their speed and power, each pushing their limits without holding back.
Closer!
"Ah, ah-ah-ah!"
Even closer!
"Ah!"
It seemed that Lance would soon be trapped. Jones and Victor's eyes lit up with excitement as they spread their arms wide for the tackle.
But at that moment, Lance took two rapid steps, shifting into high gear. His speeding silhouette blurred into motion, leaving behind only a crimson afterimage.
Bang.
The dull thud of helmets colliding echoed in the Georgia Dome.
Jones and Victor, diving toward the crimson blur, collided head-on with each other. The impact was so fierce that both men were lifted off the ground, crashing back down amid a shower of turf debris.
"Ugh."
The crowd gasped collectively, grimacing at the sound of the collision, feeling the phantom pain from the hit, each muscle seeming to cry out in sympathy.
And Lance?
Lance had successfully escaped the attempted takedown, weaving with quick, sharp cuts like Sonic the Hedgehog through an "S" pattern, disrupting Washington's defenders' attempts to react. Amid the chaos of shifting weights and misaligned steps, he charged ahead.
Five yards.
Ten yards.
In the blink of an eye, Lance had broken through the secondary, racing on as Washington fans watched in shock and disbelief.
Baker was on the move.
"Stay calm. Stay calm," Baker reminded himself, trying not to get too hyped and make a mistake like that idiot Humphrey. He knew he could stop Lance—
Not just believed, but knew with clarity.
Taking a series of short, quick steps, Baker bent his knees, lowering his center of gravity as he approached. He wasn't reckless; he waited until he was sure of Lance's path and balance before committing to the tackle.
A firm step, a push off, and—
Tackle!
Boom.
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Powerstones?
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