Chapter 260 258: Overflowing Dominance
The conflict between veterans and rookies was irreconcilable—a ticking time bomb liable to go off at any moment. The tension simmering in the San Francisco 49ers locker room had been suppressed time and again, but today, it finally boiled over.
"What did you say? What the fuck are you saying? You snot-nosed brat! You haven't even grown your fuzz yet! Fuck! Fuck!" Parris's entire face was contorted. He struggled desperately, and the players holding him back, caught off guard for a moment, actually let him break free. He then charged menacingly toward Logan.
The scene descended into chaos again, on the verge of erupting.
Suddenly, a figure cut in, blocking the path between Parris and Logan. He lowered his center of gravity and drove his body forward. He was solid and steady, sharp and powerful, his charge carrying immense force, as immovable as Mount Taishan. He slammed viciously into Parris, colliding head-on with the man who was charging like a runaway locomotive.
BAM!
A dull thud echoed, and in the next second, Parris was sent flying, landing flat on his back. It was as if he had run into a mountain; not only had he failed to break through, he was utterly routed.
Parris fell to the ground, a wretched and awkward mess, his whole world shaking. "Fuck! Who! You piece of..." A string of explicit profanities followed, spit flying from his mouth. His reason was completely incinerated, ready to kill anyone who got in his way.
"Shut up!" The figure strode forward and roared with earth-shattering force. "Shut the FUCK up! You have the brain of a paramecium, a single-celled organism that can't even think! If you don't get what's happening, then keep your mouth shut! Stop using it like an asshole! You goddamn idiot! SHUT UP!"
That thunderous aura, coming from a dominant, towering position, was like an inescapable shadow that completely enveloped Parris, leaving him nowhere to run. It brutally extinguished all of Parris's fury and, just as brutally, silenced everyone else. The entire practice field fell instantly, deathly silent.
Little Deer Bambi.
This was Lu Ke's nickname. Most of the San Francisco 49ers players didn't know its origin. They just crudely assumed it was partly because Lu Ke was indeed on the lighter side and partly because his appearance was purely that of a scholar. He looked genuinely frail, a stark misfit in the world of football, renowned for being iron-willed and tough.
Even after gelling with the team over three games, Lu Ke's usual image was still that of a sunny and cheerful college graduate. But today, Lu Ke displayed an absolutely unyielding attitude and method. The stark contrast was overwhelming, leaving everyone stunned and, for a moment, unsure how to react.
More importantly, that solid and powerful collision just now, where he had forcefully knocked Parris over in a head-on confrontation, had a visual impact that was simply too strong. So much for being 'scrawny'? So much for 'physical shortcomings'? So much for 'lacking tackling ability'?
But people had forgotten that in his junior year, Lu Ke had been a sparring partner for a whole year. Even if his physical qualities weren't top-tier, his ability to withstand contact was definitely not that of a rookie. For a sparring partner, collision, collision, and more collision—that was their daily job.
Sparring partners' physical attributes are generally not as outstanding, which means they need to use more technique to gain an advantage in confrontations. Besides, his supposed "weakness" was only in comparison to other players with more outstanding physical gifts.
And so, with a dull THUD, Parris was knocked flat on his back.
The huge contrast kicked up Fierce Waves of shock. Everyone's mouths fell open in astonishment and panic, but not a single sound came out.
"Fuck! Are we the rookies, or are you?!" Lu Ke took off his helmet and spat to the side. "If you've got a problem, solve it on the field! This is a football field, not a boxing ring! If you want to solve problems with your fists, then get the hell out! The stray dogs and junkies on the slum streets can satisfy that urge for you!"
Lu Ke was also seething, his chest heaving violently. He clenched his jaw, forcing the words out through his teeth. "Any problem, we settle it with skill, head-to-head! You think you have too much damn energy? Fine, take me on! We'll run a 10k right now. First one to drop is a bitch."
Lu Ke glared viciously at Parris, his presence terrifying, showing no sign of weakness.
Lu Ke had always known that conflict between veteran and rookie players was inevitable; it was a tradition in every team. And as an undrafted player of Chinese descent, he only amplified this conflict, making it incredibly tricky to handle. That was why Lu Ke had always chosen to keep a low profile, letting his skills and his performance in games do the talking, avoiding direct confrontation.
But clearly, Parris was like a mad dog today, biting anyone he could. Since Parris wanted a war, he would give him one. A one-on-one, a trial of strength, to see who would be the first to fall.
Parris met Lu Ke's gaze resentfully but ultimately lacked the nerve. After that collision, Parris had been utterly humiliated and couldn't say a single word.
Moreover, in the short span of less than two months, Lu Ke's insane training regimen had become known to everyone. In terms of sheer hard work and diligence, no one on the entire team could really compare to Lu Ke.
However, the players had never been particularly surprised by it, taking it for granted. After all, undrafted players naturally needed to work harder to catch up. But now, faced with Lu Ke's assertiveness, Parris felt his confidence shrink. It was only now that they realized that even as an undrafted player, Lu Ke was no pushover.
"Any other problems? If not, then everyone get your asses back on the field! Practice isn't over yet! Anyone got a problem with it, we'll settle it on the field!" Lu Ke strode toward the practice field, but after a few steps, he noticed that none of the players had moved. The area was as quiet as a graveyard.
"Fuck! We don't have all fucking day! Everyone get back to the field immediately! Any problems, solve them on the field!"
Lu Ke's coarse and tyrannical voice rang out again, echoing violently over the practice field. The players, who had been standing there like wooden statues, finally snapped out of it and silently started moving back to their respective positions.
The players on the offense, however, all exchanged glances, surprise and shock flickering in their eyes. They couldn't help but recall the little episode from the game against the Cincinnati Bengals: Bloody Bambi.
His tough and forceful counterattack on the field had revealed an iron-willed core. Clearly, to be able to lead the team to three straight victories from an adverse situation, Lu Ke was definitely not just Little Deer Bambi.
Parris gasped for breath, an indescribable frustration churning in his chest with no outlet. He shot a look toward Alex Smith on the sidelines, but Alex gave no response, merely crossing his arms and quietly watching every move on the practice field.
It wasn't just Alex. His other buddies on the Defense Team—Navorro Bowman, Patrick Wells, Justin Smith...—none of them spoke either. They all averted their gazes, a tacit gesture of agreement—
Lu Ke was right. They were teammates, not enemies. Any problems should be settled on the field. That was the right way to do it.
"Fuck!" Parris bit down hard on his gums, seething with rage. He hesitated for a moment: should he turn and leave the practice field, or stay and continue practicing? After a brief struggle, he wisely chose the latter. Suppressing his anger, he jogged back to his original position, but his heaving chest and constant cursing still betrayed his dissatisfaction and fury.
Logan jogged along beside Lu Ke, a huge grin spreading across his face, hidden behind his helmet. "Hey, man, that was some seriously dominant shit. Nice."
Lu Ke rolled his eyes. He looked at Logan, only to see that smug grin, and found himself chuckling in spite of himself. "Stay focused. Who knows if that idiot will go crazy and try a malicious hit. Be careful!"
If a defensive player is dead set on taking someone out, it's really hard for anyone besides the blind-side tackle and guards to stop them.
Logan pounded his chest. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. You're the one who needs to watch out. That lunatic might come after you to pave the way for his little sweetheart."
Lu Ke didn't say much, just raised his right fist. The two bumped fists, exchanged a look of understanding, and then returned to their respective positions.
Lu Ke stood up straight, gestured to the coaching staff, and asked, "That last play, run it again?"
At this point, the coaches standing on the sidelines all had strange expressions, especially Jim. In team sports, players generally have fiery tempers and are accustomed to letting their fists do the talking. Physical conflicts are common, perhaps even daily occurrences. Usually, a team leader would step up to control the situation and unite the locker room atmosphere.
The reason Kip, Craig, and the others hadn't stepped in was because they knew the locker room needed a release. Among men, sometimes a fight and clearing the air is all it takes to resolve things. It's just that they never expected Lu Ke would be the one to step up, and they certainly didn't expect that Lu Ke would actually manage to get the situation under control—
after all, the tense locker room atmosphere was largely caused by the appearance of an unknown variable like Lu Ke in the first place.
Now, seeing Lu Ke's calm and composed actions, it was the coaches who were having trouble keeping up.
According to the rotation, Lu Ke had already finished his offensive play drill, and it was supposed to be Scott's turn next. But Lu Ke had returned to his position, preparing to run the last play all over again.
Although he didn't understand the reason—there was no need to repeat the same play—Craig still gave an affirmative gesture.
"Attack!" Lu Ke called for the snap again.