Chapter 211 209: Completely Different
He took a deep breath, a long, deep, deep breath that felt like it would never end. Everything in his line of sight slowed down. The entire world's movements seemed to play out at ten, even twenty times slower: the path of the gentle breeze, the players' warm-ups, the figure of the running ball boy…
Everything was so slow, so clear, so real. Even when he used the Special Skill, Bullet Time, his vision had never been this sharp.
Different. Every detail, every aspect, every single part was different. He could feel it with absolute clarity.
Paul Brown Stadium was more open, more expansive. The semi-open stadium bloomed like a flower. Standing on the field, his peripheral vision caught vast stretches of sky and architecture. The entire stadium's sense of space and place was completely different. Even the angle of the light and the refracted halos were different.
The stands at Paul Brown Stadium were more exposed. A vast sea of white, black, and orange jerseys stretched out before him, looking duller and more foreign than the familiar red and gold. Even the crowd's roars and cheers sounded different. Without the stadium's architecture to contain the noise, the echoes were far more pronounced.
Absolutely everything was different. It was like wearing a pair of shoes in the wrong size—you could wear them, but your entire body felt out of sorts.
Objectively speaking, the conditions at Paul Brown Stadium were milder than at Candlestick Park. The wind was weaker and the sightlines were more open. More importantly, the weather was more pleasant—a truly crisp September autumn day that was not too humid, not too dry, not too hot, and not too cold. After a simple warm-up, his muscles quickly entered their optimal state.
But Lu Ke still couldn't adapt. He was used to Candlestick Park—its wind force, wind direction, lighting, space, temperature, and everything else. As the saying goes, there's no place like home. He still preferred playing at Candlestick Park.
Before departing, after arriving, and even before taking the field, Lu Ke hadn't realized this. This was, in the truest sense, the first away game of his professional career.
Against the University of Southern California and the University of Wisconsin, the home stadium had been the Rose Bowl. Against the Seattle Seahawks and the Dallas Cowboys, it had been Candlestick Park. Everything had been familiar: the locker room, the tunnel, the environment. He trained on the same field where he played his games.
A home field was home not because the stadium was superior, but because the environment was familiar. Lu Ke had never perceived an away game as a problem—even though the media, the coaches, and all his teammates had talked about it nonstop. But without experiencing it firsthand, the feeling was completely different.
On previous away trips, Lu Ke had been a spectator, sitting on the bench and watching everything as an observer. But today, Lu Ke stood on the field as a player—the one in control of the game, no less. Being in the thick of it changed everything, and all these feelings suddenly rose to the surface.
Lu Ke had thought he'd weathered enough storms that his strong heart no longer knew the meaning of nervousness. But at this moment, he felt it again, just like when he was thrust into the fray against the USC Trojans. It was an emotion he couldn't control or suppress, only skillfully channel into motivation for the game.
"Bambi! Bambi!" A voice shattered the silence by Lu Ke's ear, growing louder as it approached. His deep breathing stopped. Lu Ke snapped his head around to see his teammates standing in a circle, waiting for him to make the call.
It was Logan. "Bambi? The clock's ticking! You okay?"
Lu Ke's peripheral vision caught the play clock above the end zone. The forty-second timer was already down to thirty-seven. Everything that had just transpired took place in a mere three seconds, yet it felt as if a whole century had passed.
Lu Ke curled his fingertips, then grabbed the towel hanging from his waist and wiped away the warm sweat. He stretched his fingers out again, letting the tension ease.
The game between the Cincinnati Bengals and the San Francisco 49ers had been underway for three minutes and forty-eight seconds.
The Bengals started on offense. Andy Dalton led the offensive unit onto the field and mounted an impressive drive, steadily pushing past midfield. Unfortunately, the drive stalled there. After a three-and-out, the distance for a field goal was still too great, so the Bengals had no choice but to punt.
Then, Lu Ke led his team onto the field.
"Listen up!" Lu Ke shouted to his teammates, but his ears were filled with a rumbling roar, like thunder, a storm, or a sudden downpour. It wasn't a single deafening explosion but a disorienting, wavering clamor that rattled his nerves. Worse, Lu Ke's voice was completely drowned out, as if it had hit an invisible wall and couldn't travel at all.
Even though Paul Brown Stadium was far from full—more than a third of the seats were empty—the home fans in attendance showed no weakness. They gave the San Francisco 49ers a taste of their power, their deafening wave of cheers rattling every player on the offensive unit.
Lu Ke frowned slightly and motioned for his teammates to draw closer. They formed a tight circle, heads touching. Kneeling on one knee in the center, Lu Ke shouted with all the force from his Dantian, "Men, this is our first away game of the season, which means the season has truly begun. I need a win! Who's with me?"
The words were simple but rang with power. Lu Ke extended his right hand. Almost simultaneously, Logan and Marcus placed their right hands on top of his. The other players followed, one after another, until a stack of hands was formed.
"Good! Then let's go get some touchdowns!" Lu Ke roared with all his might. "On three! One, two, THREE, GAME ON!" On the third count, all their arms shot up toward the sky.
Following Jim Hubble's pre-game instructions, Lu Ke quickly called the play. It was no easy task amid the stadium's unpredictable roar. He used simple verbal commands and hand signals, and once he confirmed every player had received the signal, they were set.
Soon, the San Francisco 49ers offense was set in formation.
"Hike!"
The roar was overwhelming, pounding against Lu Ke's eardrums like thunder. He couldn't even hear his own voice, which felt frail and lost in the mountain-collapsing, sea-swallowing noise. Just as he began to wonder if his call had even been audible, he felt the football slap into his hands. With no time to think, his feet instinctively began a quick dropback.
He lifted his chin, trying to take in the defensive formation downfield, but all he saw was a thick wall of white jerseys and black pants, accented with orange tiger stripes. They formed an impassable barrier, completely walling off the receivers from his offensive line.
His feet moved quickly, eyes scanning from left to right, but there was no time to find an open receiver. In a flash, his peripheral vision caught sight of the collapsing pocket. The defensive linemen were like bulldozers, relentlessly driving the 49ers' Offense Line backward. The pocket was shrinking. Fast.
'Fall back!'
The alarm bells had just started ringing in his head, but his retreat was a quarter-beat too slow. A pair of orange-gloved hands, large as fans, appeared in his vision, swatting down hard.
Lu Ke tried to duck and dodge, but he was a fraction too slow. A hand gripped his shoulder and arm tightly, sending a searing pain through him. There was a sharp THWAP—not a solid impact, but the sound of a secure hold. The next second, Lu Ke felt an immense force and the pull of gravity as he was dragged down to the turf. The smell of fresh grass and the roar of the crowd felt like a vicious slap across his face.
But it wasn't over.
The next moment, the 49ers' pocket completely collapsed. Several players lost their balance and came crashing down like toppling mountains, one after another. Both Bengals and 49ers players piled on top of Lu Ke, burying him in a heap of bodies.
"Fuck!" Lu Ke clenched his fist and slammed it into the turf. The dull impact sent a sting through his hand, but it slightly eased his tense, rigid muscles. The anger surging in his chest, however, had no release. It just kept seething, pounding against his ribs with a dull ache.
A sack. The San Francisco 49ers' very first offensive play of the game ended in a sack by the Cincinnati Bengals!
'I'm not angry at the Offense Line, I'm angry at myself. My judgment was off because I was nervous, my reaction was slow… my performance was just awful!'
'During my read of the defense, I saw the blitz coming; I had the 4-3 formation right. But I missed that their entire defensive line was shifting forward. They'd boldly—crazily—abandoned their deep coverage and committed everyone to the blitz.'
'The safeties were covering the intermediate routes, the cornerbacks were on the short passes, and the linebackers had completely abandoned defending against short passes and the run. They just threw everything they had into a quarterback blitz. It meant their entire front seven was crashing down on the 49ers' Offense Line.'
'Against a blitz like that, a quick handoff to the running back is the best option for a pocket quarterback. But I misread the defense, which led to a bad call. Then, when the pocket collapsed, my brain was a quarter-beat too slow. That millisecond of hesitation was all it took. My feet didn't move back in time, and I was sacked.'
'One mistake compounded by another. And this was the result!'
Only now did Lu Ke truly understand what an away game meant. He was furious with himself, and even more disappointed. 'It's not like I haven't been on a big stage before. How could I let nerves lead to a whole series of bad decisions?'
"Fuck!" Lu Ke slammed his fist into the turf again.