Chapter 231 229: Complete Disarray
The San Francisco 49ers' offense left the field, making way for their teammates on the special teams.
"Bambi." Jim Hubble called out, stopping Lu Ke in his tracks. Lu Ke paused and gave him a questioning look, his nerves tightening slightly. But Jim simply gave him a thumbs-up. "Beautiful pass!" After the praise, he nodded, said nothing more, and gestured for Lu Ke to go.
Lu Ke was a little taken aback. 'He'd thought Jim was worried about his right arm and, with their commanding lead, might send in the backup quarterback, Alex Smith, to get him some game time.' But apparently, it was a false alarm. A smile broke across Lu Ke's face. He nodded in acknowledgment, then turned and walked away.
"Yeah! Man!"
"Way to go!"
"Awesome! That was awesome!"
"Nice!"
"Touchdown, touchdown, touchdown!"
...
On his way to the sideline, every player raised a hand to give Lu Ke a celebratory high-five. Even Vernon Davis, who hadn't been able to play today, was no exception. He didn't say much, but he stood among the crowd and slapped Lu Ke's hand as he passed.
Soon, more and more people came forward to celebrate, with players from the Defense Team also crowding in. It became impossible to keep up with the high-fives, so everyone just started enthusiastically patting Lu Ke on the shoulders and back in congratulations. Out of the corner of his eye, Lu Ke even caught a glimpse of Alex Smith and Scott Torsin.
At least to the TV cameras, it looked like all smiles and camaraderie within the San Francisco 49ers.
After finally making his way to the bench and sitting down, the special teams converted the extra point. The score was now 24-10, with the San Francisco 49ers extending their lead once more. With five minutes and twenty-one seconds left in the fourth quarter, there was still enough time for the Cincinnati Bengals. It was all up to Andy Dalton now.
The "battle of the number-fourteen rookie quarterbacks" had truly reached its cutthroat, make-or-break moment.
Looking past the crowd, Lu Ke's gaze locked onto Dalton. Back at the Rookie Training Camp, the two hadn't interacted much—they were merely nodding acquaintances. Neither of them had been a standout quarterback at the camp, but who would have thought that they would now be facing off as representatives of their respective teams?
A figure walked in front of Lu Ke, blocking his view before sitting down next to him. Turning his head, Lu Ke saw the chubby, good-natured face of Kip Kester and gave him a questioning look. "What's up? Any special arrangements for the tactics?"
Kip's face was wreathed in a beaming smile, making him look as jolly as a Buddha statue. "No, no. You're playing great. Honestly, we couldn't ask for more."
Among the 49ers coaching staff, Kip had always held Lu Ke in high regard. This was partly due to his connection with Adam Klein, but mostly it was because of Lu Ke's own diligence and hard work.
The football world is full of phenoms, but in truth, after entering the NFL, their performances often fail to live up to the hype. Instead, it's the solid players drafted in the third or fourth rounds who are able to adapt more quickly to the intensity and rhythm of the professional league.
The reason wasn't complicated. These golden boys often had it easy in the NCAA, facing few setbacks. It seemed as though talent alone was enough for everything to fall into their laps. But after turning pro, the slightest difficulty could leave them deflated. Moreover, the challenges in the NFL were far from "slight"—they were a brutal wake-up call.
During offseason training camps, veteran players would put the rookies through the wringer, with hazing and pranks being a common occurrence. Every team knew this happened but never put a stop to it. Beyond being a team tradition, it was also seen as a way to quickly acclimate the rookies to the intensity of the professional league.
Of course, if those golden boys could weather the storm and mature, their potential was truly limitless. Peyton Manning and Aaron Rodgers were perfect examples.
Lu Ke was an undrafted rookie, always grounded, diligent, and dedicated. After being thrust into the spotlight during a crisis, he had secured two straight wins, yet he remained humble and composed, continuing to train with dedication. This very trait had earned Kip's trust. In the team's current quarterback competition, Kip was Lu Ke's staunchest supporter.
Alex Smith was too conservative, lacking both passion and daring. Colin Kaepernick was too impulsive, possessing the typical traits of a college 'Pride of Heaven.' As for Scott Torsin, his skill level simply wasn't high enough. So, was Lu Ke perfect? Of course not. His shortcomings were still glaringly obvious, but Lu Ke was indeed the best choice for the San Francisco 49ers right now.
This was Kip's opinion.
"Bambi, I just wanted to tell you, you're playing exceptionally well. Believe me, your strengths are more apparent than you think. Don't push yourself too hard." Kip said cryptically, then stood up. With his beer belly leading the way, he ambled off.
Lu Ke sat where he was, a little stunned. The coach's words sparked a thousand different interpretations in his mind, but before he could sort through them all, a "player's game assistant" hurried over. In reality, he was a ball boy, responsible for handing out towels and water bottles and collecting helmets.
"Bambi!" Lu Ke turned to see the ball boy's beaming smile. "Uh, Kip told me to give you this." He handed over an ice pack and an elastic strap to hold it in place.
That explained everything.
Kip had noticed. The slight issue with Lu Ke's right arm. For a quarterback coach, a quarterback's throwing motions and habits were deeply ingrained in their minds. If a problem arose, they were bound to be the first to spot it. As for those careless enough not to notice, a coach like that would likely be fired before long, or the quarterback would end up getting seriously injured.
Lu Ke chuckled in spite of himself and took the ice pack. "Thanks, Thomas."
An irrepressible smile spread across Thomas Robinson's face. He had just joined the team this season, not long after graduating high school. Almost no one on the team remembered his name; everyone just called him "you" or "that guy."
But now, Lu Ke had remembered his name.
"Don't worry about it. It's my job." Thomas chuckled. "Need a hand?" He stepped forward and gestured. After getting a nod from Lu Ke, he helped place the ice pack on Lu Ke's bicep and secured it with the elastic strap. "Bambi—I mean, Lu Ke—that deep ball earlier was beautiful."
"Thanks. You can call me Bambi. It's just a nickname," Lu Ke said with a smile. "Also, could you hand me the playbook, please? The one with the number four on the cover. That's it. Thanks." Lu Ke then started flipping through the playbook. As long as the game wasn't over, he couldn't afford to let his guard down.
On the field, the Cincinnati Bengals' offense and the San Francisco 49ers' Defense Team were locked in a fierce showdown. It was clear that Andy Dalton had gone into full-throttle mode, his determination to lead his team and close the gap more palpable than ever.
There were five minutes and twenty-one seconds left on the clock. Theoretically, there was still enough time, but it was a monumental task. The Cincinnati Bengals were down by fourteen points, which meant they needed to score quickly. Whether it was a field goal or a Touchdown, they had to put points on the board in a short amount of time and narrow the deficit.
Then, their Defense Team would have to force a quick three-and-out from the San Francisco 49ers' offense, ensuring Dalton could get back on the field for a shot at a game-winning comeback.
It wasn't just about scoring, but scoring quickly. If this drive took too long, even if they put points on the board, there wouldn't be much time left on the clock, and the Bengals' window of opportunity would shrink dramatically.
This sense of urgency pressed down on the Bengals' offense, winding the tension tighter and tighter like a clock spring.
But haste makes waste. Over the next eight plays, Dalton overthrew a receiver once, a receiver dropped a catch once, and the 49ers Defense Team batted down a pass once. The entire drive was a stuttering, stumbling affair, not only lacking momentum but growing more chaotic with each play.
It wasn't that Dalton was playing poorly. Objectively, if he hadn't been the one holding the offense together—first by converting a third down with a fourteen-yard intermediate pass, and then by escaping a sack to complete a six-yard short pass—the Bengals would have been forced to punt long ago. He was stubbornly keeping the drive alive.
Even so, the Bengals' offense was in disarray and couldn't mount an effective attack. On a third-and-four, the receiver got a case of butterfingers. He initially caught the ball but then juggled it like a clown, bobbling it repeatedly before finally dropping it. The Bengals' drive came to a disappointing and abrupt end.
As the brain of the team, the quarterback's role is crucial. But in football, a brain is useless without limbs and a torso. A quarterback can't do it all alone and could only look on in frustration. Dalton stood on the field with his hands on his hips, his lonely figure radiating a sense of helplessness.
Butterfingers. Their drive had ended because of a dropped pass. It was incredibly frustrating. Dalton could have blamed his teammate for the critical error, but competitive sports weren't that simple—
The San Francisco 49ers had built up overwhelming momentum in this clash of titans, breaking through the Cincinnati Bengals' excellent defense. The result was an offensive player for the Bengals making an error under the immense pressure and tension. Nobody wanted to see a mistake like that—not the quarterback, and certainly not the Wide Receiver himself.
And so, after a drive that lasted two minutes and five seconds and didn't even cross midfield, the Bengals' offense trotted off the field.
The only silver lining was that there were still three minutes and sixteen seconds left in the game. If the Bengals' Defense Team could step up and quickly shut down the San Francisco 49ers' offense, Dalton would still have a chance at redemption. Just like in an NBA game, a comeback is always possible in the final seconds. In football, anything can happen.
It was under these circumstances that Lu Ke removed the ice pack from his arm and led his team back onto the field, ready to put the game away for good.