Lance gazed out the car window, quietly observing the cityscape with a touch of curiosity, attempting to find some unique character in the seemingly uniform buildings. Unfortunately, his attempt failed. He had heard that the American Midwest was known for its desolate and monotonous landscapes—unremarkable planning, generic buildings, and a sense of stillness in everyday life. This monotony was one of the reasons, people said, that the region's passion for sports ran so deep; there weren't many other options for entertainment.
If Lance thought Tuscaloosa was ordinary, Indianapolis was even more so.
As the capital of Indiana, Indianapolis sits in the heart of the Midwest, serving as a major transportation hub that connects the East and West Coasts and central cities. With its extensive railways and highways, it's known as the "Crossroads of America" and ranks as the fourth-largest state capital by area. Despite being considered one of the region's more vibrant cities, the reality felt different.
Indianapolis is a typical Midwestern city, with a dominant population of devout Catholics and a conservativeness that seemed to permeate daily life. Entertainment and leisure activities were limited, and the people lived by the motto "early to bed, early to rise," reflecting the simple, rustic lifestyle of a "big countryside."
All of the city's energy and loyalty focused on a single team: the NFL's Indianapolis Colts. Since the Colts settled in Indianapolis in 1984, the team has captivated the city. Under legendary quarterback Peyton Manning, the Colts entered the playoffs for eight consecutive years, culminating in a Super Bowl win in the 2006 season that ignited a deep passion in the city's residents. On game days, the whole city would be glued to the Colts, just like in Tuscaloosa with the Crimson Tide.
In 1987, the NFL made a pivotal decision to permanently locate the annual rookie combine in Indianapolis, turning it into a city-wide event that attracted national attention.
This year was no different.
The rookie combine began on February 15, hosted at Lucas Oil Stadium, home of the Colts, and would continue for four days. When the combine ended, the 32 NFL teams would use the rookies' performances to refine their draft strategies in preparation for the NFL Draft, set to be held April 27-29, marking the first steps toward the new season.
And Lance was finally about to step into the spotlight.
Since the National Championship, Lance had gone off the radar, focusing solely on training. While the noise of smaller rookie combines buzzed around him, the newest Heisman winner and MVP of the National Championship had retreated from public view. But even in his absence, Lance's reputation lingered.
Lance's story—his shift from MMA to football, stepping into the sport just a year ago, flawlessly filling Derrick Henry's shoes, his heroic performance in the National Championship, and his distinction as the first Asian Heisman winner—continued to captivate. And now, the longer he remained a mystery, the more the interest and speculation grew.
Even teams uninterested in drafting a running back were revisiting Lance's game tapes and scouting reports. After all, anything can happen in the draft, and no one wanted to overlook what might be the year's top running back—or perhaps even the best player overall.
Finally, Lance arrived in Indianapolis to compete. Crowds flocked to Lucas Oil Stadium, eager to witness his performance, raising the rookie combine's atmosphere to fever pitch as a sea of fans poured into the city.
After a month of intense training, Lance didn't appear bulkier; if anything, he seemed slightly leaner. Yet those with a keen eye noticed that his muscles looked more defined, with a sharpness that hinted at increased explosive power.
As his car approached the hotel, he saw a line of vehicles waiting to park, with valet attendants scrambling to keep up. Instead of waiting, Lance opted to head to the parking lot across the street, quickly spotting an open space.
But just as he prepared to park, a car in front of him was partially blocking the way. The driver, attempting to back into a parking spot, had misaligned the car and was trying again to straighten it out, unintentionally holding up Lance.
The driver, a young man with a curly, voluminous hairstyle, glanced through the window with an apologetic smile, raising his hand in a polite wave. Lance smiled back, signaling that he wasn't in a hurry.
But the driver seemed to panic even more under Lance's patient gaze. A straightforward reverse into the spot suddenly became a struggle, as each failed attempt only heightened his nerves, creating a cycle of anxiety.
After five unsuccessful tries, the young man was visibly sweating, cheeks puffed in frustration like an overwhelmed blowfish. His expression, though embarrassed, had a hint of desperation as he glanced back at Lance.
In fairness, it wasn't entirely his fault.
Nervousness aside, the two adjacent parking spots were occupied by a Ferrari and a Porsche, which only added to the pressure. As college students on the cusp of the NFL, most of them were still on tight budgets, and the idea of scratching one of these luxury cars was nerve-wracking. After all, they didn't want to risk damaging the car of a team executive and jeopardizing their draft prospects.
Clearly, this guy was a bit out of his depth.
Lance lowered his window and called out, "Need a hand?"
The young man flashed a relieved grin and immediately opened the door to get out.
"Hold up!" Lance gestured to him to pull the handbrake first to avoid a potential accident. Once the car was secured, Lance walked over, helping him park in just a few quick maneuvers. Then, he returned to his own car and parked as well.
As he exited his car, Lance noticed that the young man was waiting nearby, wearing a sheepish smile like an obedient child. Lance chuckled.
"So, thinking about treating me to dinner?" he teased.
It was just a joke, but the young man nodded earnestly. "Dinner? Sure! I heard they make some great chicken breasts here."
Lance's eyes lit up with amusement. "You traveled all the way to Indianapolis just to try the chicken breast? Interesting choice."
The young man chuckled sheepishly. "Well, I am getting ready to go pro. So, you're here for the combine too, right? Me too. I'm Patrick Mahomes."
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Powerstones?
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