Chapter 229 227: The Masterstroke Reappears
The San Francisco 49ers had five primary receivers: three Wide Receivers and two Tight Ends.
Generally speaking, the Wide Receivers were lighter and faster, with more versatile catching techniques. The Tight Ends were stronger; blocking and clearing paths were essential skills for them. Compared to simply making the catch, their true strengths lay in collisions and breakthroughs after the reception.
Of the two Tight Ends, Vernon Davis was more physically gifted, while Logan Newman possessed superior footwork and catching technique. Among the three Wide receivers, Kyle Williams and Ted Ginn Jr. were both known for their nimble speed and delicate hands. Michael Crabtree, on the other hand, was a big-bodied receiver. His speed advantage wasn't as pronounced, but his strength was making tough, contested catches in clutch situations.
The three receivers on the left invaded the Fierce Tiger Team's secondary like a tornado. Crabtree was the first to break off, cutting on a sharp in-route like a dagger into the soft, undefended middle of the field.
Facing the big receiver, the Fierce Tiger Team couldn't afford to be careless, especially with the middle of the field being a defensive vacuum. Two defenders immediately peeled off and used their speed advantage to cut off Crabtree's route, plastering him with tight coverage.
Williams and Ginn, however, remained completely focused, entirely unaffected as they continued to sprint at full tilt. Both seemed to have hit their top speed, though Ginn appeared to hold a slight edge. After they sprinted side-by-side past the thirty-yard line, the two parted ways—
Ginn broke toward the sideline, while Williams cut toward the middle of the field.
The two Fierce Tiger defenders hesitated. A quick glance back at the pocket showed Lu Ke still hadn't thrown the ball, which meant they still couldn't be sure where to position themselves. In the blink of an eye, they made their choice: each took a man and started trailing the two Wide Receivers.
The zone defense strategy had ultimately devolved into man-to-man coverage. Worse, that split-second of hesitation, even if it was just a millisecond, cost them a step. Against two Wide Receivers known for their speed, the gap was widening invisibly. You couldn't see it with the naked eye, but the difference in the rhythm of their sprints was already clear.
'Is it Ginn or Williams? Or Crabtree? Wait, what about Newman? Where is Lu Ke's most trusted receiver, Logan Newman?'
"Lu Ke snaps the ball! The Fierce Tiger defenders seem affected by that earlier false start. While they didn't commit a penalty, their reactions are clearly a beat slow, and the 49ers receivers have already seized the advantage. Wow, it's a dazzling display on the field; the 49ers offense is running a kaleidoscope of routes."
During the TV broadcast, Kirk reined in his pace a little, not narrating every single minute detail. As he grew accustomed to the flow of television, his commentary started to develop its own style, becoming sharper.
"The Fierce Tiger Team's zone defense seems to be covering the entire field, completely holding its own, with no apparent openings. And yet, it also seems to be full of holes, with potential breakthrough points in every corner and every direction. The question now is, can the 49ers' rookie quarterback spot the opportunity in time?"
Kirk's question was purely rhetorical, but Teddy jumped in anyway. "The more important question is, why hasn't Lu Ke thrown the ball yet? Look, he's still shuffling his feet inside the pocket. There's clearly a passing lane open—at least, I can see Lynch has gotten open—but he shows no intention of throwing."
Teddy's reminder drew Kirk's attention to Lu Ke in the pocket. He was methodically shuffling his feet, vigilantly watching his receivers' routes develop, but his hands remained on the football. He hadn't made a throwing motion, not even a pump fake. It looked more like... indecisiveness.
"This is a little strange," Kirk mused. "Lu Ke isn't a quarterback who's slow with his reads. He's still watching, and he hasn't tried to scramble from the pocket. Clearly, he has something else in mind. The 49ers' Offense Line has provided really solid pocket protection this time—oh, I spoke too soon, I spoke too soon, the pocket is collapsing! Atkins has broken through again! I've lost count of how many times we've said his name today!"
Teddy pointed at the field. "Lu Ke is throwing! With a nimble sidestep, he actually dodged Atkins's tackle, then stepped up and raised his arm to throw! This... this is a bullet pass! God, this isn't a Rainbow Pass, it's a bullet pass!" Teddy's voice cracked with excitement.
This wasn't Teddy's usual style of commentary, so Kirk immediately took over. "The San Francisco 49ers receivers are all deep downfield now! The only one in short range is Lynch; all the other players are running deep routes! Newman and Crabtree are in the intermediate range, and God, Williams and Ginn are already in the red zone!"
Kirk's heart leaped into his throat. "A bullet pass! It's a bullet pass! Lu Ke aimed deep and unleashed a bullet! God! This pass is like a cannonball, the true definition of having a cannon for an arm! He's aiming for... the middle of the field! He's going right down the middle!"
"The pass has a slight arc, perfectly avoiding the three players in the intermediate zone. Crabtree isn't the target; this pass is headed deep! One of the Fierce Tiger defenders, number twenty-one, cornerback Adam Jones, tries to jump and break it up, but... OH! OH! OH!"
Kirk's commentary was cut off by Teddy's shout; both commentators were crying out in astonishment. Kirk picked it back up, "It's like Lu Ke anticipated that perfectly! He put the pass just high enough that Adam Jones's leap couldn't reach it! The football sailed right over his head and kept going! God, this pass has power, speed, arc, and control! It's absolutely brilliant!"
In the blink of an eye, the situation on the field had changed a thousand times. Teddy was left breathless, but Kirk was only getting more animated, his impassioned commentary recapturing the glory and passion of his old radio days!
"The ball is still rocketing forward, past midfield... the forty, the thirty-five, the thirty, the twenty-five... Jesus Christ! The pass still hasn't lost any velocity! What is going on? Who is he even aiming for? Ted Ginn Jr.?"
Kirk's eyes scanned the field, his pen and paper flying out of his hands. "No, it's not Ted Ginn Jr., it's Kyle Williams! That's insane! This throw is absolutely insane! But, wait... the twenty, the fifteen, the ten, the five! At the five-yard line! He caught it! Williams caught it! Oh my God, my God, my God! HE CAUGHT IT! HE CAUGHT IT!"
Kyle Williams was completely focused. Sprint, sprint, and sprint some more, using every ounce of his strength, sprinting with utter abandon. On this play, Lu Ke hadn't pre-determined his target. Williams, Ginn, and Crabtree were all primary options, while Newman and Lynch on the other side were running routes to draw coverage. Whoever got open would get the ball.
It was a deep shot! The call had come from the coaches. They had spotted the hesitation and indecisiveness in the Fierce Tiger defense, which had grown more conservative in its play-calling. Especially after two consecutive successful runs, the Fierce Tiger's Defense Team was now more divided in their focus. So, the coaches called for a deep pass.
They believed in Lu Ke's deep ball.
Williams knew that so far in the game, he'd only been targeted once, a catch for a four-yard gain. It was a lackluster performance, to be sure. 'But this is my chance,' he thought. 'I won't let it slip by. You have to fight to the very end to see the result, right?'
And so, Williams ran. He ran with everything he had. He didn't even notice the routes Crabtree and Ginn were running. All his focus was on his own two feet, single-mindedly sprinting for all he was worth, just like Forrest Gump.
After crossing the thirty-yard line, Williams began angling his sprint toward his right, gradually bending his route at a forty-five-degree angle. His speed didn't drop in the slightest; if anything, he kicked it up another notch, pushing to his absolute limit. This was his top gear. He felt like his arms and legs were on fire, the very oxygen in his lungs about to ignite.
No competition, no worries, no exhaustion. Only the sprint. A single thought remained in Williams's mind: Run.
After pushing himself to the limit and crossing the ten-yard line, he suddenly whipped his body around, his feet chopping as he backpedaled to adjust. And then it appeared in his vision: the football, flying like a cannonball. It traced a slight arc, its passage through the air so violent and fierce he could almost see the shockwaves streaming around it.
'The ball's here!'
Williams's pupils contracted. He began to slow, using quick, choppy steps to adjust his position. Surprisingly, he wasn't the least bit nervous. His mind was ethereally calm, having achieved a state of ultimate focus, as if he had already rehearsed this moment countless times—
He brought his hands up to his chest, forming a basket to receive the ball, and watched as it flew straight and true, right into his grasp.
THWACK!
Bullseye. The powerfully thrown ball still hadn't lost its momentum; it felt like it could have kept flying for another twenty yards. Williams clamped his hands down on the football, gripping it for dear life. His hands were slightly numb, the breath hitched in his chest, and his fingertips began to tremble. But he only squeezed tighter and tighter, as if he were cradling the most precious treasure in the world.
He quickly backpedaled, trying to both absorb the ball's impact and adjust his center of gravity. But he immediately felt the presence of a defender about to crash into him from behind. Williams bent his knees, lowered his center of gravity, dropped his shoulders, and braced for the collision.
'It's not over! The play's not over yet!'