Chapter 128 126: Reading the Defense
Reading the defense is the most fundamental and crucial job of a quarterback. It's not just about reacting on the fly during a play; it also involves a massive amount of preparation before the game.
For the past ten days, the team had been poring over game film from the Seattle Seahawks' four preseason matchups. On top of that, Lu Ke had spent extra time with Kip, analyzing the Seahawks' game footage from last year.
The prep work was complex, tedious, long, and burdensome, but now, he realized in a single glance—
The Seattle Seahawks had lined up in a pass defense formation!
This was the first down of the entire season. Every team was feeling each other out, probing for weaknesses. At the same time, every player was amped up, trying to adjust. A burst of adrenaline could either get them in the zone instantly or make them tense up. It was the same for the offense, the Defense Team, and the special teams unit—not even the coaching staff was an exception.
That's why the Seattle Seahawks had chosen their most by-the-book and conservative defensive formation.
At the Defense Line, they showed a three-four front. This meant three players would rush to tear through the Offense Line and pressure the quarterback, while four players would play reactively—either helping stop the run, defending short passes, or even looping wide around the Offense Line to go for the sack.
In the secondary, there were two safeties and two cornerbacks, and their positioning revealed their clear responsibilities. The safeties were positioned past the 50-yard line, while the cornerbacks stood at the 49ers' 35-yard line. This meant they were wary of a potential long pass, but the defense's center of gravity was shifted forward, with the main focus on intermediate passes.
In short: it was a pass defense, one focused on short and intermediate routes. They had weakened their pass rush, showing they weren't in a hurry to pressure the quarterback. Instead, they were guarding against the run and stacking defenders in the short field.
Pete Carroll's cautious approach wasn't born from a fear of Lu Ke. Quite the opposite—it was because he underestimated him.
Even after the Rookie Training Camp, they still didn't believe Lu Ke was cut out to be a professional quarterback.
Lu Ke didn't know why the Seattle Seahawks had bothered to interview him—perhaps it was just to take a chance and see. But what was certain was that when their quarterback coach, Carl Smith, had spoken so disrespectfully, no one had stepped in to stop him. This meant that deep down, they had always harbored doubts about Lu Ke's abilities.
But whether those doubts were about his ability or about his race, only they knew for sure.
Now, that doubt was manifesting itself in their very first defensive play. They had focused all their manpower on stopping the run and defending the pass, not even deigning to blitz, leaving the deep field wide open. It was as if they were saying:
You dare throw it?
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a figure. Richard Sherman.
As a cornerback, Sherman was roaming near the 50-yard line, bouncing on his feet. His movements were cocky, like a clown's—not in a funny way, but a provocative one. Sensing Lu Ke's gaze, he raised his right hand, stuck out his thumb, and slowly, slowly, dragged it across his neck in a throat-slitting gesture. Then, with deliberate exaggeration, he let his head hang limp and stuck out his tongue.
The smug look on the buffoon's face made it seem like he didn't give a damn about Lu Ke.
But in the next instant, Richard was all focus, his eyes turning sharp. Back at the Rookie Training Camp, Lu Ke had completed three passes right over his head, stealing all the glory. He considered it a profound humiliation, one that had even affected his draft round and position.
'Now, it's finally time to prove myself. I absolutely will not let my guard down, and I absolutely will not give that guy a single opening!'
Lu Ke, however, just lightly licked his lips, as if tasting blood. Far from shrinking back in fear, he grew even more excited. 'There's no thrill in beating a lifeless opponent. It's like breaking a horse—only taming the wildest, most untamable mustang of the plains brings a true sense of accomplishment.'
A gentle breeze drifted by. Though he'd been on the field for less than thirty seconds, beads of sweat were already forming on Lu Ke's forehead. His gaze, however, didn't waver in the slightest. Like a radar, it scanned the field, probing every inch.
His height gave him a commanding view, allowing him to take in the entire defensive formation at a glance. The tedious hours of film study allowed him to intuitively pick up on the finer details, right down to each player's positioning and habits. His fingertips were slightly damp. For someone who never got nervous, his hands felt a little tight right now. But the feeling was fleeting.
For this first down, Jim Hubble was also playing it safe, feeling things out. The play he'd just called was out of the Pistol Formation: a run or a short pass, keeping the options open and leaving room to adjust. As the game went on, the tactical picture in his mind would sharpen.
But now, Lu Ke had spotted a golden opportunity for a deep ball. This was the moment of truth. 'Hero or zero? A brilliant stratagem or a reckless gamble?'
Within the space of a single breath, his decision was made. Lu Ke took two large steps forward and barked, "Hawaii! Hawaii! Hawaii!" He yelled it three times, but the word itself was meaningless. It was just the signal to his teammates: 'Pay attention, we're changing the play!'
On the sideline, a look of astonishment crossed Jim's face. He quickly conferred with Craig, Kip, and the others. "What's going on? What the hell is he doing?"
But things on the field change in the blink of an eye. Even standing right on the sideline, the coaches couldn't possibly see what the quarterback was seeing. A coach calls the play, but the quarterback makes the final decision.
Lu Ke, however, was completely focused, undistracted by the commotion.
"Aloha! Aloha!" Lu Ke barked out another set of commands. This string of calls was a signal to the Offense Line: push forward, push hard, don't worry about a blitz. In the middle of it all, he inserted the word "Cherry," followed immediately by another string of "Aloha!"
He repeated this process twice. After making sure all the receivers had heard the "Cherry" call, Lu Ke yelled "Hawaii" one more time. This time, the call was significant. He then confirmed the final instructions with a series of glances—
—making eye contact with the three Wide Receivers and one Tight End. Only they understood its true meaning.
Clearly, the play calls in the pros were a lot more complex.
No one questioned Lu Ke's decision. On the field, you have to trust your quarterback. The alternative is failure.
After finishing the audible, Lu Ke quickly stepped back to his original spot. It was still the Pistol Formation, with him a full four yards behind his center, Jonathan Goodwin. The running back, Anthony Dixon, was positioned three yards behind Lu Ke, ready to explode forward, sprint, and break through the line.
A glance out of the corner of his eye caught the play clock at the far end of the End Zone: "Five, four…" On their very first down, they had nearly run out of time. But Lu Ke showed no sign of panic. He lifted his right leg in a signal, bent down, and put his hands out, ready for the ball. Then, without hesitation, he gave the command:
"Set, set, set. Hike!"
Jonathan snapped the football, a perfect spiral that landed securely in Lu Ke's hands. Lu Ke immediately began his drop back. He could see Anthony charging forward in his peripheral vision, but he had no intention of faking a handoff. He simply moved around Anthony, letting him cut into the space between the quarterback and the Offense Line to pick up any defenders who might break through.
As he finished his drop, the entire field opened up before him, vast and clear.
Just as he'd read, the Seattle Seahawks were only rushing three men, all of whom were walled off by the Offense Line. The four linebackers behind them, however, sniffed out the play. One of them looped around the edge of the Offense Line, trying to get to Lu Ke for the sack, while the other three began to prowl with heightened alertness—
—they weren't blitzing. Instead, they dropped into coverage, blanketing all the short-pass zones so tightly it was like navigating a minefield.
Lu Ke continued to drop back, putting about eight or nine yards between himself and the Offense Line. He had plenty of space. With nearly half the defenders committed to covering the short and intermediate zones, it not only bought him ample time to survey the field, but it also left the deep half of the field wide open for an attack.
CRACK! CRACK-CRACK! The sound of collisions echoed across the field. The tension was at its peak, adrenaline firing off in every player like a fireworks display. But Lu Ke only grew calmer, his senses sharpening as he sniffed out the perfect opportunity. His feet were steady, his arm was composed, his eyes were sharp.
And through the mess of players, he saw him: Logan Newman.
Logan was running, running hard. The number 88 on his back was a blur, leaving everyone else in the dust.
A safety from the Defense Team was trailing him, but he didn't dare commit to a full sprint, constantly turning his head back to read the quarterback's throwing intentions. Another cornerback was also shifting in the open space; the moment Lu Ke released the ball, he would break on it to provide help. He was about six or seven yards away from Logan.
But Logan, completely and utterly focused, was unfazed. He just kept running, faster and harder, without even a hint of turning back for the ball.
'This is the moment!' Lu Ke locked onto Logan's position and the defenders around him, calculated the timing and distance, and saw the rushing outside linebacker in his periphery. He knew he couldn't wait a second longer.
He made a quick adjustment with a few choppy steps, drifting slightly to his left. The running back, Anthony, now acting as a blocker, charged toward the incoming outside linebacker, buying Lu Ke more space to throw.
That momentary block was all he needed.
He took two large strides forward to step into the throw, his arm drawing back into a perfect arc. Power flowed from his bicep, through his forearm, to his wrist, channeling a deep and powerful explosive force into the football, like the fabled Six Meridian Divine Sword. With a violent twist of his waist, he drove his body forward, raised his arm, and unleashed the ball as if drawing a great bow to shoot down an eagle!
WHOOSH! The football flew out, carving a perfect parabola through the air.