Chapter 102 101: Iron-fisted Coach
Forty-yard dash, 4.79 seconds; 20-yard shuttle, 4.42 seconds; three-cone drill, 6.88 seconds; vertical jump, 31.5 inches; broad jump, 108 inches.
These were Lu Ke's latest workout numbers. The results still fell a bit short of Colin Kaepernick's, let alone those of first-round picks, so they couldn't be considered stunning.
But without a doubt, these numbers were good enough for a quarterback projected to go in the fifth or sixth round. Coupled with his passing ability and perfect score on the Fonderick test, it wasn't out of the question for his draft stock to rise to the fourth or even the third round.
What was most astonishing was that he had improved across the board compared to his numbers at the Rookie Training Camp just five and a half months ago!
His workout numbers had improved in just half a year? Steroids. That was the immediate thought that flashed through everyone's mind, which explained Jim's earlier question. But once Bobby shot down that theory, it began to dawn on them: just how much sweat had Lu Ke poured into his training, and how hard had he worked to get to this point?
Involuntarily, all eyes were drawn to the player on the field wearing the jersey, "Number 11, Alex Smith."
On the field, the player in the number eleven jersey hadn't let up. He was meticulously throwing pass after pass. Having completed a series of 30-yard throws, he was now attempting 45-yarders.
The coaching staff, led by Jim, watched intently. The first pass was a completion. Then the second, and the third... After four consecutive completions, he finally missed one. CLANG! It struck the edge of the practice net and bounced away. But he remained unfazed, completing the next two passes before missing the third.
The player in number eleven stopped throwing and stood in place, doing simple stretches to loosen his arm muscles.
"Before this, on the thirty-yard passes, he went twenty for twenty," Bobby's voice cut in, and it suddenly clicked for everyone.
It was because the previous throws had taken so much out of him that his accuracy on the 45-yarders was starting to drop. In a single game, a traditional pocket quarterback might throw anywhere from twenty to fifty passes. During practice, that number is naturally higher, and an unavoidable dip in accuracy due to muscle fatigue is expected.
Bobby wasn't finished. "Before that, on passes within ten yards, he was nineteen for twenty. On passes from ten to twenty yards, he was seventeen for twenty."
In other words, Lu Ke had already thrown sixty passes in this session and missed only four. Even so, he was still six for eight on his 45-yard deep balls. His accuracy and control were truly exceptional.
It wasn't just Jim and his group; Bobby had clearly noticed Lu Ke's solid passing fundamentals, which was why he had been paying closer attention and could now rattle off the stats so easily. Though there were three quarterbacks training on the field, no one could take their eyes off the player in the number eleven jersey. Even the simple yoga poses he used to relax seemed filled with some kind of Eastern mystery.
When one mentioned China, a few things came to mind: kung fu, traditional medicine (or herbal remedies), a diverse population, a massive population, and... mystery.
"You guys think he knows kung fu?" Kip blurted out. The comment felt comically out of place in the current situation. But no one laughed. Instead, they all seriously began to consider the possibility.
The sideline fell silent. It was hard to tell if they were observing the other quarterbacks or just lost in their own thoughts. Suddenly, Bobby's voice boomed like a great bell, shattering the quiet. "This group's training is over for now! Next group up, also for passing drills."
Jim's eyes remained fixed on the player in number eleven, a hint of conflict and impulse in his gaze.
This was only the first day of the tryout. They still had a full range of tests and evaluations to conduct. If necessary, they could even keep a few candidates to train with the team and hold a few intrasquad scrimmages for further observation. They couldn't afford to be careless, not even for a backup quarterback.
The problem was, with the preseason less than a week away, the pressure was mounting daily. The team was running out of time.
Jim Hubble was a coach known for his decisiveness. He had a distinct style, a sharp personality, a fiery temper, and a reputation for acting swiftly and decisively. His word was law. As a player, he had offended plenty of people and frequently got into wars of words with reporters. This only intensified after he became a coach. With his hard-nosed approach, he achieved tremendous success first at the University of San Diego and then at Stanford University, which led to him joining the San Francisco 49ers this year to inherit this mess.
Since taking the helm, Jim had already demonstrated his iron-fisted approach. With the support of the general manager, he had conducted a complete house-cleaning.
First, of the twenty-person coaching staff, only the running back coach, Offense Line coach, and Defense Line coach were retained; everyone else was replaced. Second, from the fifty-three-man roster, he cut seventeen players in one go, including two quarterbacks, clearing out nearly a third of the team.
Such bold moves, such decisiveness, such a clean sweep—it was a rare sight in the entire league and spoke volumes about Jim's coaching style.
In a flash, Jim made his decision. "Bobby, call Jackson right now. Get the practice squad's Defense Team over here, and..." Jim paused for a moment. "Get the practice squad's offense team over, too."
Craig Jackson was an assistant defensive coach. Because there were two Craigs on the coaching staff, they made a point to differentiate their names.
"Jim, what are you planning?" Craig Roman, who was standing nearby, looked surprised. He clearly hadn't expected Jim to make this move.
Jim's expression was stern and unsmiling, his sharp gaze fixed on the field like a ravenous wolf. "Training Day."
The so-called "Training Day" was actually internal police jargon, referring to a rookie cop's first day at the station or on the force.
Police work is full of danger and unexpected situations, and a green rookie can easily mess things up or even get their partner hurt—a single mistake can be a matter of life and death. Therefore, on the first day, the department would assign an experienced veteran to guide, teach, and train the rookie.
These old-timers would deliberately take the rookie to the most dangerous, sensitive, and complicated parts of the city, manufacture a few "minor incidents," and give them a trial by fire. After being thoroughly scared, the rookie would grow up fast. Thus, this day became known internally as "Training Day"—an ordinary term laced with the playful mockery of someone enjoying a good show.
Craig and Kip exchanged a glance, a faint sense of anticipation growing between them.
Standing just off the practice field, Lu Ke started doing some simple stretches to relax his arm muscles.
'He still wasn't in peak condition today. His muscles were a little tight; the tension and eagerness he felt were unavoidably showing in his body. Still, after practicing yoga daily for over half a year, the results were starting to show. His muscle responsiveness, flexibility, and endurance had all vastly improved.'
'For one thing, back at the Rookie Training Camp, the muscle ache after a series of deep throws had been indescribable. But now, he was only slightly sore. After a bit of massaging and stretching, the feeling gradually faded.'
TWEET! A whistle blew. Bobby, standing at the edge of the field, yelled, "All tryout quarterbacks, over here!"
"What's going on?" Scott hurried over to stand beside Lu Ke, looking around curiously. "Did you see that? Some players are coming over from the main team's practice facility. What do you think they're up to?"
Lu Ke had also noticed the players trickling over, but he couldn't read anything from their expressions. "It's a tryout. It's always the same stuff. If it's not drills, it's a scrimmage. In any case, stats are just stats. Eventually, you have to show what you can do on the field."
"But this is only the first day. So soon?" Scott frowned. He and Lu Ke then fell in line, one after the other, and joined the main group heading toward the coaches.
"Thanks for coming to the 49ers tryout. I'll skip the pleasantries." The man who stepped forward was none other than Jim Hubble, the team's head coach. He offered no greetings, not even an introduction, and cut straight to the chase.
"Next, we're going to run a simple scrimmage. The offensive players and defensive players will be the same for everyone. Each quarterback will use the same Offense Line and face the same defenders for a ten-play drive." Jim explained the situation in just a few words. Lu Ke and Scott exchanged a look: just as they'd thought. "You must complete all ten plays. Interception, Touchdown, it doesn't matter. A player can only leave the field after their ten plays are done. Any questions?"
Unlike at the Rookie Training Camp, an interception or a Touchdown wouldn't end the drive; every quarterback had to complete all ten plays. This meant the coaching staff wanted a more comprehensive look at how the quarterbacks handled pressure on the field—
For example, how would a quarterback respond on the very next play after throwing an interception? Would he challenge the player who just picked him off? Would he change the play call? Or would he look for a running back?
"Oh, and there will be no running backs," Jim added. "To compensate, the Defense Team will pull a safety."
With no running backs to hand off to, a quarterback's playbook was instantly cut by a third. This was good news for a mobile quarterback, but for a pocket passer, it was a true test.
Furthermore, using the same group of players meant that the earlier a quarterback went, the fresher and more energetic the defense would be, likely making it a tougher trial. Conversely, going later meant facing a more fatigued defense, which was a clear advantage. Of course, there was a potential exploit to going first: you could catch an opponent off guard before they had fully settled in.
It all came down to how one chose to weigh the options.
"Anyone want to volunteer to go first?" Jim's eyes scanned the crowd.
"I will!"