Technically, receivers and running backs are two entirely different positions. For a receiver, timing, positioning, and chemistry with the quarterback are essential to break away and create opportunities.
Clearly, Lance and the passing coach had never worked together before, leading to a slight timing issue. Adjusting his steps to slow down, Lance quickly realized the pass's arc was extending just past his reach—
Just a bit too far.
Calmly assessing the 3D space around him, Lance planted his feet, jumped, and leaned back.
The crowd watched as Lance displayed incredible core strength, his back arching into a graceful bow. His upper body stretched back, pulling taut like a fully drawn bow.
"Whoa!"
The entire stadium gasped in awe.
With his stance on the left side of the field, his body facing away from the end zone, Lance's right hand—closer to the sideline—was out of reach of the ball's trajectory.
How would he make this catch?
His left hand?
But Lance is right-handed!
Before the crowd could process it, in one swift, critical moment, Lance extended his left arm, reaching up under the ball's descending arc.
Effortless. Precise. Graceful.
He made the catch.
A one-handed catch—using his left hand!
Stunned silence filled the stadium. People couldn't believe what they'd just seen. Even Burns, watching the live broadcast, was wide-eyed in shock, turning to Saban for confirmation.
Saban's eyes shone with pride. This kid.
But that wasn't the end.
Kamara: Fall. Fall. Fall.
Watson: Trip. Trip. Trip.
Eyes all around sent telepathic wishes for Lance to stumble.
Lance had made the catch, but the test wasn't over.
His left hand gripped the ball with intense focus, fingers and wrist locking down to secure it. His nerves were on high alert, determined not to drop the ball from any moment of complacency.
Then—
He felt gravity's pull, so he lightly tapped his left foot on the ground, pivoting around it in a clockwise spin.
Graceful as a dragon.
With a 180-degree spin, he tapped his right foot on the ground, propelling himself forward in a blur of motion, sprinting down the sideline.
Tap, tap, tap.
His nimble steps traced a straight line along the sideline, keeping his toes precisely within the narrow strip of space, leaving only a trail of afterimages behind.
"Edge-walker!"
Kamara: … Damn.
Nearby, Watson turned and walked away, unable to watch any longer. It was just too much.
McCaffrey's mind filled with a single thought, eyes blazing with excitement and adrenaline.
Around the stadium—
The silence was palpable. In awe, wonder, and sheer disbelief, the crowd watched Lance's smooth maneuvers, his jaw-dropping one-handed catch, and his effortless dance along the edge. It was one brilliant moment after another, all leading up to the final, nonchalant touchdown as he crossed into the end zone. Only then did the collective gasp of admiration escape.
Wow!
Beautiful, breathtaking!
Lance had shown skill, elegance, ease, and—most importantly—effortlessness. For the first time, he'd showcased skills beyond his running back role, reaffirming his nickname as the "Edge-walker."
Could there be anything more perfect?
Brown was the first to stand and clap, and this time, his solitary applause drew no stares. Bradley and Caldwell exchanged glances, each thinking the same thing:
He's the one.
Bradley saw Lance's potential to seamlessly fit into the team's strategy.
Caldwell saw Lance's star appeal. This one-handed catch was a social media sensation waiting to happen, similar to Odell Beckham Jr.'s 2014 viral catch that turned him into an instant fan favorite. Beckham's popularity was such that his team couldn't ignore his market value in contract discussions.
They each saw what they wanted to see and were more certain than ever.
But what was Brown's angle in all this?
Across the stadium, several rows away, Hubble was also watching closely.
Reid, sitting next to him, smiled at Hubble's mix of excitement and frustration. "What, not satisfied?"
Hubble sighed, glancing at Reid with exasperation. "It's not a matter of whether I'm satisfied—it's whether we'll even get a shot at him."
Despite missing the playoffs, the Baltimore Ravens had finished with a solid season, earning the 16th pick in the draft.
The Jacksonville Jaguars seemed dead set on Lance, while the Cleveland Browns, with their wildcard unpredictability, were like a ticking time bomb. Hubble had even seen Rivera deep in thought, hinting that the Carolina Panthers might also be interested. With the eighth pick, they could throw a wrench into everything.
Hubble's head throbbed—
Disappointing talent is a letdown; talent that's too impressive is equally problematic.
Reid, the uninvolved observer, was unfazed. "That's not necessarily true. There are only a handful of teams willing to spend a first-round pick on a running back. The top three and even the top ten picks are incredibly valuable—you still have a chance."
"The real question is, what round do you think he's worth?"
Hubble understood Reid's point but still had a lot to weigh.
He turned the conversation back on Reid. "So, what about you? Any thoughts?"
Reid shrugged slightly. "You know me; I'm waiting for a receiver."
As a renowned offensive strategist in the NFL, Reid excelled at developing quarterbacks. Even an average quarterback could thrive under his guidance, favoring a pass-heavy offense over the run game.
The Ravens' Super Bowl success had hinged on defense, but Hubble's offensive approach was rooted in Reid's teachings.
Hubble knew Reid wasn't being entirely straightforward, but he wasn't lying either. The Kansas City Chiefs needed a quality receiver to complement Tyreek Hill. But it wasn't their most urgent need; offensive line protection and running back were higher priorities.
Their top running back, Jamaal Charles, was out for the season with an injury, and his future remained uncertain. Thus, the Chiefs' draft strategy hinged on the outcome of offseason talks with Charles and other key players, making it hard to pinpoint their priorities.
Sure enough, Reid added, "But I'll admit, Lance is an interesting player. Though if you can't get him, we'd have even less of a shot."
The Chiefs held the 27th pick, far behind the Ravens.
Hubble gave a wry smile. He had anticipated Lance would be in high demand, but not to this extent.
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Powerstones?
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