Chapter 176 174: Freshman
Eruption. Candlestick Park was in a complete and total uproar—overwhelming, thunderous, and absolutely magnificent!
No one was an exception. Every single spectator was on their feet, roaring like mad, pumping their fists in celebration. The sky-blotting cheers were like a tsunami, swirling and swirling, crashing and crashing through the entire stadium.
Third and six, with thirty-eight seconds on the clock. With the pocket collapsing and a sack imminent, Lu Ke had used his own two feet to run for a first down, gaining a full seventeen yards. It was the longest run of the game for either team, and it wasn't made by a running back—it was achieved by a quarterback, a traditional pocket quarterback.
The commentary booth had already exploded. Every single person—and I mean literally every single person—was exclaiming in disbelief, not even ESPN's Charles Davis was an exception.
It wasn't just because Lu Ke, the pocket quarterback, had made such an unexpected, earth-shattering choice to lead the team forward with his legs; it was because he had successfully pulled off a seventeen-yard run, wreaking havoc and throwing the entire Dallas Cowboys Defense Team into utter chaos!
The key point was that Lu Ke's Ball-Carrying Run was just too clumsy. Compared to his footwork in the pocket, it was a night-and-day difference.
His dodges and stiff-arms while running with the ball, his clumsy footwork and awkward posture, made him look like a dancing circus clown. He was clearly overusing high knees, lifting his legs so high that it uncoordinatedly affected his forward speed.
And yet, despite such awful running, he always managed to evade tackles at the last possible second and keep pushing forward. The Dallas Cowboys defenders could clearly feel it—he was so close, within arm's reach, but that hair's breadth of distance made all the difference. So close, and yet a world away.
In the Fox Television broadcast booth, Kirk once again uttered his classic line, "Unbelievable! Unbelievable! Did you see what just happened? Unbelievable!" Kirk exclaimed again and again. Such simple words, yet they perfectly captured the feelings of all the commentators—
If they could, they would have been dropping F-bombs. But they couldn't. So, "unbelievable" was the next best thing.
A surging, scorching euphoria rushed to his head. Adrenaline exploded like a hydrogen bomb—BOOM!—and Lu Ke felt the blood start to race through his veins again. He could almost feel the burning heat on the surface of his skin.
His knees felt a little weak, his calves were a bit tight, and his fingertips were trembling slightly. Running the ball, in the end, was not Lu Ke's strong suit. He had chosen to use Bullet Time, but he had to perform all the actions himself, making it more difficult than using Absolute Step. But by the same token, the results were greater. Within five seconds, the team had neared the edge of the End Zone.
After a cathartic roar, Lu Ke quickly calmed himself, tossed the football to the referee, and waved his teammates over to the twenty-seven-yard line. He looked up at the clock: twenty-nine seconds. The last play had taken a full nine seconds, leaving only twenty-nine seconds in the game.
'Just as I thought, running the ball eats up too much time.' Lu Ke wouldn't have chosen to run unless he had absolutely no other choice. But this was no time for regrets. They were at the twenty-seven-yard line, which meant the Cowboys' defensive intensity would multiply. Today, the Cowboys' pass defense had been consistently outstanding, leaving very little room for Lu Ke and his receivers.
After calling a new play, Lu Ke chose to pass to Kyle Williams. It was a short six-yard pass, and Williams made the catch, but three Dallas Cowboys defenders were instantly there to cover, crashing into him violently.
"THUMP! THUMP THUMP!" The muffled impacts were incredibly forceful; you could even hear the sharp CRACK of helmets colliding. The force knocked the football right out of Williams's arms, and it fell to the ground—a fumble.
The entire stadium gasped, their hearts stopping for a beat.
Fortunately, Logan, who was standing nearby, reacted in time and dove for the fumble first. Immediately after, every other player in the vicinity dove in as well, forming a massive dogpile with Logan buried at the very bottom. Everyone was trying to grab the ball. Whoever came up with it would gain possession.
If the Dallas Cowboys recovered the ball here, the game would be over.
The referees blew their whistles continuously, taking nearly a minute to pull the players apart one by one. Even the Cowboys and 49ers players were watching anxiously to see who had the ball. Finally, a disheveled Logan scrambled to his feet and raised the football high in the air. A tsunami of cheers erupted from the fans.
The referee raised his hand, signaling: San Francisco 49ers' ball!
The first down play was equivalent to an incomplete pass. Now, it was second and ten, with seventeen seconds left. Because of the fumble, a lot of time had bled off the clock, leaving Lu Ke with less and less to work with.
"There are seventeen seconds left in the game. The San Francisco 49ers still have two timeouts in hand, but the question is, how should they attack? The Cowboys' Defense Team hasn't made a mistake all day!"
"Seventeen seconds, twenty-seven yards. Will the 49ers' quarterback go for a long pass? Will the Cowboys' secondary make the same mistake again?"
"The game has entered its most difficult phase. The 49ers nearly lost the game right there. Thankfully, Newman recovered the fumble, keeping a glimmer of hope alive. But that scant hope doesn't inspire much optimism."
"The suspense continues. With seventeen seconds left, this game has truly become a dogfight to the finish. The problem right now isn't the Dallas Cowboys, it's the San Francisco 49ers' quarterback. Facing such a tense moment, such a crucial juncture, will this rookie quarterback dare to pass? And what will his accuracy be like?"
"I can't believe it. The fate of the San Francisco 49ers now rests in the hands of a rookie quarterback. The difficulty is too great, the risk is too high, and their hope is dwindling. Now, everyone has to ask the same question: in a moment where one pass could be fatal, can this rookie maintain his composure, accuracy, and play-calling?"
"Seventeen seconds. The most crucial seventeen seconds are here!"
...
The cacophony from the commentary booth was endless, with every announcer offering their own opinions and analysis. The atmosphere in the stadium was stretched to its absolute limit, almost to the point of suffocation.
But for Lu Ke, none of this had the slightest effect. On the contrary, his mind was growing clearer and clearer. Countless tactical options flashed through his head, one after another. The voice of Jim Hubble calling a play came through his headset, and all the noise of the world faded into the background. He could even hear his own heartbeat, steadying once more—
After that last run, his erratic heart rate had returned to a steady rhythm.
Lifting his head, Lu Ke looked at the gasping Kyle Williams. "You okay?" The earlier collision had been terrifyingly violent.
But Williams shook his head, signaling he was fine, then shrugged. "Sorry, I couldn't hold on to the ball."
Lu Ke waved his hand, showing it didn't matter. 'It was a forced fumble, one player against three; you can't blame Williams. If anyone was to blame, my read on the defense wasn't perfect, which was part of the reason.' Besides, now wasn't the time for assigning blame. They had to focus and execute this final offensive drive!
After quickly relaying the play call, Lu Ke clapped his hands, said nothing more, and gestured for everyone to line up, as if it were just another ordinary, simple offensive down. Lu Ke had just called five different routes, to see which player could break open. He would read the play as it developed and make the throw.
Five routes, and Marcus was one of them.
'Two consecutive runs have broken through their line, and we're at the twenty-seven-yard line. The Dallas Cowboys will have to commit men to defend the run, especially now that I've shown I have some running ability myself. That means their pass defense can't be impenetrable. This is my chance.'
The San Francisco 49ers got into formation. Candlestick Park fell silent in an instant—so quiet you could hear the wind. Every single person held their breath, their eyes glued to the field.
Lu Ke stood tall, carefully studying the defensive formation across from him. Then he slowly bent down, his gaze locked dead on Demarcus Ware and Sean Lee. His sharp, piercing stare seemed to collide with theirs, and the wind, it suddenly stopped. It felt as if time and space itself had frozen.
"Hut!"
Lu Ke called for the snap. The moment he felt the leather in his hands, he was already adjusting his grip and backpedaling rapidly. The entire field exploded before him like a celestial maiden scattering flowers, players dispersing in every direction. Openings seemed to be everywhere, and yet, there were no gaps at all.
He took in the running paths of the red jerseys at a glance. The Dallas Cowboys had opted for pass defense, returning to the familiar pattern of the first half. No blitz. They left only three men to defend the run, while all the other players dropped back, providing total coverage over the compressed passing zones.
Logan Newman seemed to be open, six yards out to the front right. Kyle Williams also looked to be in a gap, eight yards straight ahead. Marcus Lynch was still in his position to the right, running parallel to the line of scrimmage, ready for a swing pass.
But Lu Ke chose Michael Crabtree!
A brief flick of his eyes—no thought, no hesitation, no pause. He raised his right arm and, with a seemingly gentle toss, sent the football soaring in a high parabola, like a rainbow, dazzling in the sunlight. It sailed over the heads of the Offense and Defense Lines, over the players in the short-pass zone, and then over the middle of the field, aimed precisely for the bottom left corner of the End Zone—
It was a twenty-seven-yard rainbow pass!
But the parabola seemed a bit too high, far, far beyond the reach of anyone's vertical leap. And the downward arc of the ball didn't seem steep enough. Was it a bad pass? Was it going to fly straight out of the back of the end zone?
Wait! No!
In sight, Crabtree leaped high, stretching out both hands with all his might, trying to catch that football in midair!