American Football: King of the Bay Area

"Offsides, on the Bengals!" Hearing the referee's whistle, Kirk made the call instantly, not even waiting for the official announcement. "In this showdown between the defense and the offense, both sides are playing at an impressive level. The intensity of the game is ratcheting up. You can see that Lu Ke keenly sensed the shift in atmosphere. First, he disrupted his opponent's rhythm with a change in formation, and now he's used a hard count to get a first down without breaking a sweat! Can you believe it?"

That last question was directed at Teddy, who was sitting next to him.

Teddy gave a wry smile and shook his head repeatedly. "Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable. There were only fourteen seconds left on the play clock, but the 49ers' rookie quarterback still calmly and expertly completed all his adjustments. The way he carries himself, he looks like a twelve-year veteran, not a rookie quarterback. Wait, is this really just his first away game?"

Drawing a team offside is an advanced skill that only true tactical masters and seasoned veterans of the game dare to use. Peyton Manning and Aaron Rodgers are masters of the craft.

The real snap count is determined in the huddle before each formation. For example, the cadence might be two consecutive "Hawaii" calls followed by "Hut!"; that's the snap. Or it could be five "Set!" calls followed by two "Hut!" calls, with the ball being snapped on the second "Hut!". Or it might be two short "Huts" followed by one long "Hut!" to signal the snap.

Only after hearing this pre-arranged cadence will the center actually snap the ball. Anything before that, no matter how elaborate or varied, is all just part of the hard count.

If you watch Peyton Manning's games closely, his cadence seems very simple. It's just one word, "Omaha." It seems like something anyone could figure out, but the different combinations and permutations have different meanings, leaving opponents bewildered. If the defense loses focus for even a split second, they're likely to fall for it.

Of course, the hard count is inherently deceptive. As long as the defense is focused enough and listens carefully, they won't be fooled. And the quarterback's real goal in using a hard count isn't always to draw the defense offside; it's to gain a few milliseconds of an advantage in reaction time, giving the offense the upper hand.

Even for players like Manning and Rodgers, a hard count needs to be used sparingly and by surprise. If used too often, succeeding even once out of ten times would be remarkable. More often than not, a quarterback will intentionally use a hard count on a fourth-and-short situation to see if they can trick the opponent into jumping offside, which would automatically give them a first down.

Just as Teddy said, using a hard count to draw the defense offside is a veteran's skill. For rookies, they can barely even memorize the playbook, let alone flexibly apply tactics and create complex cadences. And yet, on that last play, Lu Ke unexpectedly used a hard count to once again disrupt the defense's rhythm.

"If our research is correct... but I remember his Fonderick test score was perfect. Nothing like this has ever happened before, so we have no way of judging." Kirk couldn't help but let out a laugh. "I guess the rest of the game will give us our answer. Let's watch this next down!"

Kirk and Teddy both turned their attention back to the field, where the players from both teams had already lined up at the twenty-three-yard line.

"On the field, the 49ers are showing a power run formation. In an I-formation, Lu Ke is under center, getting a close look at the opposing defensive formation. Lynch is lined up about six yards behind him, looking ready to run right through them."

Before the snap, Kirk offered his professional analysis of the offensive and defensive formations.

"Apparently, Lu Ke has read the shift in the defensive formation. The Bengals' cornerbacks and safeties have backed off a bit, while the linebackers have moved up, almost shoulder-to-shoulder with the defensive line, to play man-to-man coverage on the 49ers' four receivers."

Teddy agreed with Kirk's analysis. "Nearing the red zone, Lu Ke's deep-ball threat has to be taken seriously, or a touchdown is a high probability. This undrafted rookie has already thrown for eight touchdowns in the last two games. The Bengals' defense has adjusted, but Lu Ke has unexpectedly opted out of a pass play. What do you think, is this a smokescreen, or are they really going to run the ball?"

"It's hard to say. Lu Ke's ability to read the game was proven in the last two regular-season games. The question now is, what does Lu Ke see? And what does the defense see?" Kirk was in the middle of answering when he suddenly stopped. "The snap! The San Francisco 49ers snap the ball without any warning!"

"Hike!"

Atkins's focus was absolute. This time, he didn't miss the timing of the snap. His eyes were locked on Lu Ke, who was quickly backpedaling. Atkins surged forward, dipping his shoulder and lowering his center of gravity. He slipped past his opponent's shoulder and slammed into the outside of his arm. The brutal impact sent the player stumbling sideways, tearing a gap open in the offensive line.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Lu Ke continue his drop back, extending his right hand with the football, making the motion for a handoff. 'A run? Or a play-action fake?'

In that split second, Atkins had no time to think; there was only beast-like instinct. He tensed every muscle in his body. Using the momentum from his first collision, he crashed toward another player coming to block him on his right. This time, he didn't use his shoulder. Instead, he turned slightly to his left and slammed into the player with the thick muscle of his right shoulder and back.

The opponent met him solidly and reached out with both hands, trying to grab his shoulders. But Atkins was already prepared. He used the momentum and the opponent's shoulder as a pivot point to execute a full 360-degree spin, completely evading the tackle. With a forward surge, he was inside the pocket, Lu Ke's figure now clearly in his sights.

'Play-action pass!'

Atkins spotted the football still in Lu Ke's hands. Without a moment's hesitation, he lunged decisively, kicking up a wave of air as he pounced like a ferocious, powerful bear.

'Got him!'

Lu Ke and Lynch had crossed paths. At the last moment, Lu Ke pulled the ball back, opting not to run. He spun around, his eyes starting to track his receivers' routes. But halfway through his scan, a white jersey flashed in his peripheral vision. On pure reflex, Lu Ke started scrambling in the opposite direction.

He had just planted his feet after the spin and was still adjusting his stance. Now, trying to accelerate again, his muscles lacked their explosive power, and his footwork seemed a millisecond too slow. But that infinitesimal moment, a length of time too short for even his reflexes to compute, was enough to put Lu Ke in a perilous situation.

'Absolute Step!'

Lu Ke subconsciously called out for it, but his feet didn't move with the expected speed and agility. He only managed two clumsy steps—the Special Skill was disabled. Immediately after, he felt an immense, overwhelming force crash down on him. It was solid, leaving no gap, no chance to escape. The call of gravity hit him hard.

In the midst of the crisis, Lu Ke held the football tightly to his chest. But the vicious collision struck the ball with immense force. A dull thud echoed from his chest. Amid a sharp pain, Lu Ke felt the space between his right hand and his chest go empty, and then the ground rushed up to meet him.

"Fumble! Number ninety-seven for the Cincinnati Bengals forces the fumble!" Kirk felt his heart leap into his throat, his eyes wide as he rapidly called the play. "After the snap, Atkins first blew past Goodwin, then agilely spun around Rupati! The 49ers' entire offensive line was rendered useless! Atkins completed the sack with almost no effort, getting to him before Lynch could, and that's his second sack of the game, forcing a fumble!"

"Number ninety-seven for the Bengals, Atkins, has been in incredible form since the game started. Two sacks and one forced hurried throw. Those are some eye-popping stats." Kirk's praise was endless. "On that last defensive play, Atkins keenly spotted the gap in the protection between Goodwin and Rupati and used a clever application of pure power to tear it open, leaving the opposing quarterback with very few options."

After that string of commentary, Kirk slammed his hand on the broadcasting desk. "Wow, this game is just fantastic! The Bengals' defense versus the 49ers' offense—sparks are absolutely flying! Every single down, offense and defense, it's a head-to-head battle! God, why wasn't this game scheduled for Thursday Night Football?"

Teddy, sitting beside him, was also amazed, with no room to interject. Only after Kirk finished his call did he add, "Not just a sack, but he forced a fumble too. Fortunately, the San Francisco 49ers' running back, Marcus Lynch, recovered it immediately, preventing a turnover. That's the best possible outcome in a bad situation. This next down will be another brand-new challenge for Lu Ke."

Lynch clenched his jaw, clutching the football for dear life. He heard the referee's voice in his ear, "Give it to me, give me the ball! Don't worry, it's the 49ers' possession! It's your ball!"

Only then did Lynch snap out of it. He had been kicking himself for missing the block on Atkins when he saw the fumble. He had grabbed the ball instantly. Right after, the Bengals' linebackers, defensive ends, and everyone else had piled on, trying to rip the ball away, but Lynch had protected it securely—

A little too securely, even. The referee couldn't get the ball from him.

Coming to his senses, Lynch handed the ball to the referee. He turned and saw Lu Ke sitting on the ground, gasping for breath. Lu Ke spat to the side and gently rubbed his chest. "Bambi, you okay?"

Lu Ke didn't speak, just shook his head. His chest had taken a dull impact, and even with the pads, he still felt a heavy sensation. He needed a moment to catch his breath.

"Bambi, God, you're bleeding! Are you sure you're okay?" Lynch cried out, his face filled with alarm.