The wind howled, sweeping through the vast sea of the Crimson Tide that seemed frozen in time. Richmond-James Stadium was wrapped in a stunned silence, as if holding its breath.
Lance stood in the end zone, behind him a battlefield strewn with fallen players, sprawled and broken in disarray. He stood tall, like a war god holding up the dazzling sky. He turned—
To the Clemson Tigers' sideline, locking eyes with Watson amid a crowd paralyzed by shock and despair. Lance lifted his right index finger and gave it a small wag, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Watson felt a chill run down his spine.
Even anger and despair froze in his veins for a moment, rendering him motionless and stunned.
Then his knees buckled, and he sank to the ground uncontrollably.
Roll!
In that instant, Richmond-James Stadium erupted, joy and exhilaration bursting forth like a flood.
"Ah! Ahhh!"
Champions!
The Crimson Tide were champions!
For the second consecutive year, Alabama's Crimson Tide had conquered the national championship. Since 2009, they once again completed a flawless 15-0 season, sweeping every championship title within their grasp!
Clarke could hardly believe it. He sprinted towards Lance and leaped, clinging to him like a koala, shouting with abandon.
"We did it! We won!"
As he shouted, tears welled up in Clarke's eyes, finally spilling over as he sobbed. It was joy, it was emotion, and it was the bittersweet mingling of relief and disbelief. His mind was a blank, unable to fully process what had happened.
In his otherwise modest NCAA career, Clarke had witnessed Derrick Henry lead Alabama to their first national title and had now been a part of their title defense. What more could he ask for? Even if his college football days ended here, he had no regrets.
Clarke wept like a child.
Lance patted Clarke on the back and set him down, pushing past Hurts, Howard, Robinson, and the other teammates who rushed to celebrate. Striding purposefully to the sideline, he caught sight of Humphrey, who sprinted toward him, arms wide with excitement.
"Champions!"
"Champions!!!"
Humphrey yelled ecstatically, but Lance sidestepped him, brushing past and leaving Humphrey standing there, stunned and defeated.
The sight made the other Crimson Tide players and nearby fans burst into laughter.
Lance had bypassed Humphrey to high-five Alan, celebrating for just a moment before continuing to the bench where Josh sat.
Josh sat quietly, eyes clear and resolute, back straight, though he avoided meeting Lance's gaze.
Lance noticed the football in Josh's lap, the one Humphrey had handed him, and placed his own football in Josh's arms as well.
He said nothing, only patted Josh heavily on the shoulder—
They were a team. They faced challenges and celebrated victories as one, no one left behind.
As Lance walked away, Humphrey understood and grinned smugly. "Copying me, showing off. This group of kids isn't up to it," he muttered, though he, too, stepped up to pat Josh on the shoulder.
One by one, the Crimson Tide players followed suit, silently conveying their support.
Alan. Hurts. Clarke. Foster...
Josh bowed his head, mustering all his strength to stay composed, but the tears fell anyway. Summoning his courage, he looked up, chest out, letting the tears fall freely without wiping them, eyes bright and confident as he gazed ahead.
His knee throbbed, a reminder that he hadn't been on the field for the final drive. But he was ready—for the next game, for the future battles alongside his team. He clutched the two footballs to his chest tightly.
Watching this scene, Danny Clarke—Ronnie Clarke's older brother—stood frozen, taking it all in.
He had always looked down on his brother.
Ronnie, the dreamer with limited talent, had foolishly clung to a dream that seemed pointless and unrewarding, a path that Danny believed would end in harsh reality.
So, when Ronnie said he wouldn't enter the draft after the season, Danny, unlike their parents, felt vindicated. "I told you so. You shouldn't have wasted your time," he had said, smug on Christmas Day.
That day, Ronnie had argued with him for the first time.
Until today. Until now.
Danny watched his brother on the field, surrounded by the Crimson Tide's camaraderie, and felt his heart rip apart. An indescribable mix of envy and regret swelled within him.
Then, he heard Terry Clarke's voice calling out relentlessly.
"Hey, that's my son! Clarke, number 5—that's my boy!"
Tears blurred Danny's vision.
Perhaps the point of dreams wasn't about achieving them but about having something to believe in, a source of hope and drive. Dreams made life bearable.
So—
Danny straightened and called out toward the field.
"Roll, Crimson Tide!"
This time, it came from the heart. He knew his brother had realized his dream, and he finally understood that he himself was the one who lacked the courage to chase what mattered.
He shouted again and again, letting his emotions surge into his voice.
Terry turned to see Danny's tear-streaked face, which he made no effort to hide, and sighed softly.
Danny was the true talent of the Clarke brothers, a star receiver from elementary through high school, praised by every coach and scout who predicted an NFL career.
Ronnie had grown up idolizing Danny, following in his footsteps to play football.
But after a knee injury, Danny couldn't bear the endless rehab and training. When he failed to return to form, he quit. He chose the practical path, going to college, preparing for a job, returning to an ordinary life.
Since then, Danny hadn't set foot on the football field.
But today…
Maybe Danny regretted it; maybe he didn't. Maybe he finally understood that life sometimes needed a touch of foolishness, and that the value of dreams wasn't in their outcome but in the belief they inspired.
With a deep breath, Terry said nothing more and turned back to the field, joining Danny's cheers with eyes that glistened slightly.
"Roll Tide!"
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Powerstones?
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