Chapter 72 71: Top-Heavy
The Fonderick Test, officially the Fonderick Personnel Test, is a brief but highly credible tool used to measure general intelligence. It assesses verbal, numerical, and spatial reasoning, along with problem-solving skills. The entire test lasts twelve minutes, comprises fifty questions, and is scored out of a maximum of fifty points.
This test is somewhat similar to the IQ tests people are familiar with in their daily lives, but it's simpler and more targeted. A score of twenty is considered average, equivalent to an IQ score of one hundred.
In professional football, playbooks are vast and complex, sometimes containing as many as twenty thousand different plays. A single offensive or defensive down can involve countless permutations of these plays, which requires every player to fully master the playbook—not just read it, but *master* it. Consequently, there's a strict requirement for a player's intelligence.
The quarterback's role is, without a doubt, the most critical. As the most important position on the team, the quarterback is the only player required to master the entire playbook, from offense to defense. Of course, he only needs to be able to read the defensive plays, but he must thoroughly comprehend the offensive ones.
As the on-field commander, the quarterback is the only player who can communicate in real-time with the coaching staff via an earpiece during the game. At the same time, all sorts of unexpected situations can arise, and the quarterback must immediately make a sound judgment. When necessary, he has the power and the duty to change the play at the line of scrimmage. A grasp of the big picture, split-second reflexes, and problem-solving skills are all paramount.
Talent gets you through college, but it takes intelligence to succeed in the pros. In the NFL, plenty of quarterbacks have been cut or even forced into retirement because they couldn't master the playbook or keep up with the team's strategic adjustments. All of this makes the Fonderick Test increasingly important.
Of course, it's just a single metric. A perfect score of fifty doesn't automatically make someone a genius quarterback. Likewise, a score below the average of twenty doesn't mean a player's career is completely ruined. Ultimately, it all comes down to the individual.
After years of evaluation, an average score has been established for each position on the field. As long as a player meets that standard, it's generally not an issue.
The highest average score belongs not to quarterbacks, but to offensive tackles, who average twenty-six points. Quarterbacks, on the other hand, average twenty-four points. The lowest average scores on the team belong to the running backs. Depending on their role, they are divided into Fullbacks and halfbacks. Fullbacks average seventeen points, while halfbacks average sixteen.
For comparison, among other real-world professions, reporters average twenty-six points, while programmers average twenty-seven.
The twelve-minute test went by faster than he expected. With fifty questions, there wasn't much time to think about any single one. Before he knew it, Lu Ke had finished. The score was generated on the spot and immediately recorded in his file—like all the other combine data, these numbers would follow the quarterbacks throughout their entire careers.
Afterwards, Lu Ke received a certificate printed out on-site. It was an official document confirming he had taken the Fonderick Test. Below his basic personal information, such as his date of birth, was the score he had achieved.
"Congratulations!" The test administrator smiled, taking a long, careful look at Lu Ke's certificate before sounding out his name, "Lu... Ke... right? I'm not mispronouncing that, am I?" After receiving a nod of confirmation, the administrator nodded back. "This is a moment to remember. Congratulations again!" Only then did he hand the certificate to Lu Ke.
Looking down at his score, Lu Ke let out a stunned laugh. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
'Top-heavy.' That was the first phrase that popped into Lu Ke's mind, and he meant it in the most literal sense. Fifty points. Lu Ke had gotten a perfect score of fifty on the Fonderick Test!
'He wasn't sure if this was purely a measure of his IQ, or if it was a reflection of the Spiritual Quality and willpower stats from his system. After he'd completed that special mission yesterday, his Spiritual Quality had increased by two points. Now, the two stats stood at eighty-three and eighty, respectively.'
From elementary school through college, all along his football journey, Lu Ke had always been keenly aware of his own strengths and weaknesses. His natural physical shortcomings repeatedly put him at a disadvantage in contact situations. His nickname, "Bambi," was hardly a compliment on the field. On the other hand, his strengths lay in things like play-calling, on-the-fly decision-making, reading defenses, and his choice of passing targets. He was, in a sense, a cerebral quarterback.
'Although, he wasn't sure if a truly "cerebral" quarterback could even exist in the pros. Still, that's what he was.'
He'd always known it, but before today, it had just been a gut feeling, a suspicion. Now, it was confirmed in black and white: his physical stats were abysmal, unable to hold up in a real contest even without any injuries, while his Fonderick Test score was... perfect.
'If that wasn't top-heavy, what was?'
"Hey, hey, Bambi, you hear?" Logan came jogging through the crowded hall, a huge, gossipy grin plastered on his face. He couldn't resist bumping Lu Ke's shoulder. "Some guy got a perfect score on the Fonderick Test today, did you hear? The whole place is buzzing about it. I wonder what kind of freak he is!" After speaking, Logan scanned the area, trying to spot this "freak" in the crowd.
"You heard about it too?" a stranger nearby couldn't help but chime in, and a small circle of people started to gather. "He's the second player in the league to get a perfect Fonderick score since 1975. Thirty-five years, and we've only just gotten a second one! The first one, Pat McInally, caused quite a stir back in his day."
Lu Ke wasn't even born in 1975. To be precise, none of the rookies at today's combine had been. "Did he get drafted?" Lu Ke asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Fifth round," another person called out. "After all, we're here to play football, not to get into Harvard, right? A perfect score is just a gimmick. It has no real practical value."
"I wouldn't be so sure. McInally was just a Wide Receiver, so of course it wasn't a big deal. The average for a Wide Receiver is only seventeen points. Getting a perfect score wasn't going to make him sprout wings. Now, just imagine if it was a quarterback. That would be an absolute sensation!"
"Probably not as big of a sensation as a quarterback getting a sixteen," someone joked.
"A little while ago, Brian Gabbert, the quarterback from the University of Missouri, scored a forty-two, and everyone was already buzzing about that, wondering if it would boost his draft stock and maybe even push him into the first round! Who would've thought we'd get a perfect score on top of that? Wow, the competition this year is intense."
...
The chatter grew louder and more animated. The physical measurements and injury assessments could be over in just a few minutes, assuming no major issues. The Fonderick Test, however, had a mandatory twelve-minute duration, which was why so many rookies were now gathered outside the testing room.
In just a few short minutes, news that the second player in history to get a perfect score on the Fonderick Test had emerged spread like wildfire throughout the entire facility.
"Cam, what'd you get on the test?" a voice called out from nearby. Cam's slightly nervous reply followed. "It's not important. This test is useless to me. I won the Heisman Trophy without it, didn't I?" His usually grating voice wasn't as loud, sounding a bit strained and stiff.
"That's true. An average score is good enough. What's the average for a quarterback again?"
"Twenty-four."
"Right. And running backs? Sixteen is enough for a running back. Haha, I got a nineteen!"
"You idiot. A nineteen just proves you're a moron. What's there to be happy about?"
"This moron can still run the ball and flatten you on the field. That's all that matters!"
...
Amidst the noisy banter, Cam's voice completely vanished. It was as if he'd turned invisible, showing no intention of voicing any opinion. This was highly unusual—
Ever since arriving in Indianapolis yesterday, Cam had been constantly making his presence known, going around and talking face-to-face with nearly every rookie at the combine, as if terrified someone might not know that the new Heisman Trophy winner was officially in the draft.
'But now, Cam was trying to erase his own presence?'
But it wasn't easy for "Mr. Spotlight" to fly under the radar. After all, his massive frame was like a beacon. His uncharacteristic behavior only made people more suspicious. "Cam, what's wrong? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine... fine..." Cam stammered. "It's just a little stuffy in here."
"HA! Cam Newton! You only got a twenty-one? Jesus Christ, *I* got a twenty-one! Are you sure you're a quarterback and not a running back? You got the same score as me! HAHAHAHA!" A booming voice shattered the din, instantly drawing everyone's attention. All eyes first fell on Cam's beet-red face, which looked ready to explode, and then on the man popping out from behind him—Marcus Lynch.
Marcus snatched the certificate from Cam's hand and waved it in the air, a wild grin on his face. "This is hilarious, absolutely hilarious! Cam, you sure you're not better suited for running back? HAHAHAHA!" Marcus howled with laughter, holding nothing back.
The next second, Cam snatched the certificate back from Marcus and raised a fist, ready to fly into a rage. Marcus darted over to Lu Ke's side, his laughter echoing behind him. "Cam! Cam! Cam!" No more words were needed. The humiliation was enough.
Cam stood frozen, his fists clenched tight. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, but it wasn't the kind of attention he liked. It was filled with ridicule, mockery, derision, contempt, shock, sympathy, and pity.
'Damn it! Damn it!'
Cam snapped his head up and saw Lu Ke standing in the crowd. An Asian face was, after all, quite conspicuous among a sea of white and Black faces. He lost control of his anger. "What are you looking at? You damn Asian, what score did you get? Don't tell me it was only ten!"