In the stadium stands, Jacksonville Jaguars head coach Bradley glanced over at team manager Caldwell, who had already risen to his feet, eyes locked on the field with unmistakable interest. But Bradley knew this was all for show.
For Caldwell, it was all about creating market buzz, and he was already pushing the narrative for the Jaguars to consider drafting Lance.
Though Bradley didn't oppose the idea of drafting a running back—he genuinely wanted one—Caldwell's fixation was unsettling.
All Bradley could do was hope: "Please, Lance, show us what you've got."
A collective gasp, then waves of admiration.
With each reaction, Bradley could see the expressions of the other running backs, and his own excitement steadily rose—
Lance did not disappoint.
In fact, he did more than avoid disappointment; he was impressive.
The work he'd done since the national championship was finally paying off.
His results:
40-yard dash: 4.38 seconds20-yard shuttle: 4.21 seconds3-cone drill: 6.48 secondsVertical jump: 40 inches (102 cm)Broad jump: 3.37 metersBench press: 13 reps
The admiration was endless.
Scouts already knew that Lance's speed and agility were his greatest assets, with many comparing him to Adrian Peterson. But the actual data exceeded expectations, showing a versatility that set him well ahead of his competition.
He was leading in every area!
Lance was the only rookie this year to break the 4.40 barrier in the 40-yard dash, coming close to the NFL rookie record of 4.32. His acceleration, sprinting, and overall explosiveness were top-tier among this year's rookie running backs.
In both 10- and 20-yard segments, Lance outperformed Kamara—and McCaffrey's scores paled in comparison.
Comparing across the board, Lance was in the top echelon of running backs in this year's draft, reinforcing his status as a Heisman Trophy winner and national championship MVP.
Even compared to Adrian Peterson's rookie training camp performance, Lance's metrics were better across the board.
Admittedly, while great combine stats don't guarantee a great player—since football is ultimately a contact sport—these stats created an instant buzz. The stadium was buzzing with excitement.
The biggest surprise came from the bench press.
Strength and physicality had always been known as Lance's weaknesses. But clearly, he had focused on these areas during his intensive training, with evident results.
Though his 13 reps couldn't match power backs like Fournette, Cook, or Mixon, each of whom clocked over twenty reps, he was on par with speed-based backs like Kamara and McCaffrey.
But it's all relative.
Given his superior speed and explosiveness, adding too much bulk could limit Lance's effectiveness. As things stood, he had struck an optimal balance between strength and agility, showing that he was ready for the challenge.
In one decisive performance, Lance demonstrated his potential. Whatever doubts had lingered, his rigorous offseason training had clearly paid off.
That was the real highlight.
He was astounding!
Bradley's heart raced, and his imagination took flight. Lance had only been playing football for a year. What could he become with another year adapting to the pro level?
This thought stirred Bradley's mind like a wave, and he could barely sit still. Glancing back at Caldwell's admiring look, Bradley felt a surge of hope that, perhaps this time, they'd finally agree on a pick.
"Good, very good!"
Just then, Bradley heard applause—loud and exaggerated—and turned to see an overly dramatic figure clapping alone in the stadium, making a ridiculous spectacle of himself.
It was Sashi Brown, vice president and general manager of the Cleveland Browns.
Despite knowing little about professional football, Brown held authority over a team, steering it like a six-year-old at the helm of a battleship. Armed with significant draft power, he was a wild card who could wreak havoc at any moment, giving the rest of the league a headache—
This year, the Browns held the top draft pick once again.
Noticing Bradley and Caldwell's stares, Brown tipped his comical top hat, waving cheerfully as he called out, "Quite a gem, isn't he?"
"I'm really curious to see who'll be lucky enough to unearth this treasure at the draft."
"Haha, ha-ha-ha!"
Brown shook his head, seemingly oblivious to the color draining from Bradley's face.
One thought dominated Bradley's mind: a spoiler.
On the field, the players were oblivious to the political drama unfolding in the stands. The charged undercurrents swirling through the stadium were lost to them, swallowed by the vast space.
McCaffrey was the first to break the silence, applauding for Lance and even whistling. "Wow, woo-hoo!" His enthusiastic cries and wide smile lit up his face—
At least for now, Lance remained the top running back in this rookie class, leading across the board.
McCaffrey's eyes burned with fierce determination: Fight, fight, fight!
Hearing the cheers, Lance turned and saw McCaffrey, along with Kamara, who was unsuccessfully trying to shrink into the background.
Meeting Kamara's gaze, Lance raised his right hand and made the same "call me" gesture, shaking his hand slightly to mimic a vibrating phone.
Then, he pretended to hang up the call.
Kamara: …
The surrounding running backs burst out laughing—not out of any ill will toward Kamara but simply because they found it amusing.
Kamara, however, felt his cheeks burn, unsure if it was from anger or embarrassment.
And it wasn't just the running backs. The coaches, managers, and scouts in the stands had also caught this exchange. They hadn't anticipated Kamara's taunt, nor Lance's response, which added some unexpected humor to the rookie camp.
To Kamara, though, it was a nightmare. Everything had gone off track, and now, instead of boosting his draft stock by outperforming Lance, he'd made a spectacle of himself, fueling anxieties about a possible draft slip.
Finally, as the last drill of the running backs' test came up, Kamara managed to regain his composure—
A lifeline, at last.
The receiving drill.
Wait—did he hear that right? The receiving drill? This was the running back group, not the wide receivers or tight ends. Why was there a receiving drill?
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Powerstones?
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