Chapter 282 280: Crisp and Clean
"Hut!"
Logan Newman's sharp ears caught Lu Ke's snap count. Without a moment's hesitation, as if he were running a 40-yard dash drill, he lowered his head and began sprinting forward. He went from zero to his top speed in an instant, showcasing his explosive power to the fullest.
No change of direction, no turns, no pauses, not even a glance up. He just charged ahead, his reckless, unstoppable momentum kicking up a powerful wake of air as he tore across the field like a destructive force.
As a Tight End, Newman was already a size bigger than the average Wide Receiver, even with the team still pushing him to gain more weight—a size bigger was a size bigger. And now, he was sprinting madly with no apparent tactical purpose, as if this wasn't a football field but the 100-meter final at the Olympics. He shot forward like a rocket, exuding an unreasonable, overwhelming power:
He blew past an outside linebacker, then a cornerback. Both defenders' bodies swayed with Newman's movement, hesitating over whether to try and block him, wondering about his true objective. But before they could even process the thought, Newman was already gone. Their centers of gravity had shifted, putting them on the back foot for the rest of the play—
The outside linebacker was on the Philadelphia Eagles' left side, which was the San Francisco 49ers' right. His job was to rush the quarterback, but that slight hesitation made his reaction a quarter-beat slow, maybe even an eighth. It was that tiny delay that robbed his movement of its momentum. After getting around the 49ers' Offense Line, he ran into Lynch, who was now out of position. The linebacker's feet couldn't advance any further, completely shut down by Lynch's block.
Normally, an outside linebacker against a running back—a dedicated defender versus a makeshift blocker—would be a total mismatch. The running back shouldn't be able to stop him at all. But now, things were different.
Of course, Newman was completely unaware of what was happening behind him. He was completely lost in the moment, his mind empty of all distractions. His only goal was to draw the attention of every player in the secondary.
This was a run play. Everyone on the offense knew it, so they had to clear a path for Lynch.
Aside from the Offense Line needing to win their one-on-one battles to open a lane, Crabtree, Williams, and Gene all had the same job: tie up the linebackers and cornerbacks, stop them from cutting off Lynch's running route, and clear the way.
As for Newman, the Tight End, the heavy weapon, his job was to throw the entire secondary into chaos. If he could draw a cornerback away to ease the pressure on Williams, allowing Williams to create more space for Lynch, that would be perfect. If not, then the two safeties were his responsibility—
He also had to divert the Philadelphia Eagles Defense Team's attention with his unreasonable, powerful sprint, disrupting their focus. Before the snap, Lu Ke had sent Gene in motion, planting a seed of doubt that this might be a pass play. Newman's charge was making that seed sprout.
So, with no distracting thoughts, no second-guessing, and not even the burden of expecting a catch, Newman just ran, sprinting with wild abandon. It was a simple, brutish tactic, but executed by the powerful frame of a Tight End, it became impressively intimidating.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
Newman ran with pure joy, completely losing himself in the motion. The more he ran, the more thrilled he felt, the happier he became. Like a drawn sword, he was a sharp, piercing threat aimed at the Philadelphia Eagles' soft underbelly. 'This feels amazing!' If he weren't in the middle of a game, Newman would have thrown his arms open to embrace the wind.
He was a son of the wind.
Even so, Newman hadn't forgotten his mission. Sprint, and sprint again. Twenty yards, thirty yards, forty yards, the fifty-yard line... His pace didn't slacken. Thirty yards was the work of just a couple of breaths, less than three seconds. 'Should I fake a catch,' Newman wondered, 'to juke the secondary?'
But the problem was, after three seconds, Lynch would have already broken through the line. Everyone would know it was a run, and his role as a decoy would be over.
Just then, a shout came from behind him. "Newman! Catch it! Catch it!" It was Williams's voice, carried on the wind.
Every muscle in Newman's body tensed. He glanced back and saw the football arcing high in the air, a rainbow rocketing toward him. It hadn't even reached its apex yet, which meant... the downward arc still had a long way to go.
'Dammit!'
Newman kicked into a second gear, accelerating again. He gritted his teeth and sprinted like a madman. A safety rushed into his field of vision, but against Newman's bull-like charge—a rumbling, bulldozing force—the defender stood no chance. He managed a weak tap on Newman's hip before being left completely in the dust.
A quick scan with his peripheral vision showed another safety on the far left, sprinting across the field, but he had started too late. There was no way he could catch up.
So, Newman focused all his attention on his hands. The forty-five-yard line, the forty, the thirty-five... 'Faster, a little faster!' He was already giving it everything he had, but speed was never his strong suit. He had started sprinting early, yet it still felt like he was a step behind.
'Damn you, Bambi! How could you throw it so deep? I'm not a puppy playing fetch!'
Fortunately, this was a Rainbow Pass. Lu Ke seemed to have anticipated Newman's speed deficit, putting an incredible arc on the ball. It soared through the sky like a Crescent Moon Saber, making even the brilliant sun a mere backdrop. This bought Newman more time.
The thirty-yard line!
He was there. Newman formed a basket with his hands, holding them to his chest as if cradling a baby. He began to adjust his feet, taking short, choppy steps, but his forward momentum was too powerful. His feet got tangled, and he stumbled and staggered.
But in that instant, Newman showed the poise of a top-tier receiver. His upper body remained as steady as Mount Taishan, completely unaffected by his clumsy footwork. And just like that, lightly, precisely, and cleanly, he secured the football in his arms.
But it wasn't over yet.
Newman had lost his center of gravity. He couldn't control his balance at all, his steps a chaotic mess. He did everything he could to keep his body upright, using his momentum to keep charging forward. As he ran on, his knees started to feel weak. Newman clenched his jaw, cursing internally, 'Damn you, Bambi! Damn you, Bambi! What a massive throw! God, I can't breathe!'
His strength reached its limit, and his knees finally locked up. But his balance was completely gone. Like a sprinter in the 100-meter Olympic final making that last desperate push, his muscles exploded with power, converting inertia and gravity into forward motion. He lunged across the finish line and then face-planted spectacularly, tearing up a huge chunk of turf.
"God, there's no one left in the Eagles' backfield! Newman! Newman!" Kirk's voice began to crack, his heart leaping into his throat as he let out a piercing scream. "He's past midfield, the forty, the thirty, Newman makes the catch, Jesus Christ! The catch, Newman makes the catch! That was a full sixty-four-yard pass, shit!"
Try as he might, Kirk couldn't hold it back; the curse word just slipped out. He would be fined for it after the game, but he didn't care in the slightest, nor did he regret it one bit.
"A sixty-four-yard pass! God, Newman is still going, the twenty, the fifteen, the ten... Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" Kirk grabbed his hair with both hands, roaring wildly. "He's crossed the goal line! Shit! Newman carries it into the End Zone, Touchdown! That's a Touchdown!"
It wasn't just Kirk. Teddy was slamming the table, screaming wildly along with him. "Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!" All his passion was unleashed in that moment. "Ladies and gentlemen, after taking a hard hit to start the second half, Lu Ke is not only fine, but he's rallied and fired up his team! The Offense Line delivered their first perfect pocket protection of the game, but an accident occurred during the handoff between Lu Ke and running back Lynch, preventing the run play from being executed!"
"In an emergency, Lu Ke recovered the fumbled ball, took just two steps to reset, and then launched a sixty-four-yard bomb! God, it's like we're seeing peak Aaron Rodgers from this season all over again! The 49ers' number eighty-eight, Logan Newman, at the very limit of his physical ability, made the catch and stumbled his way into the End Zone. That is a Touchdown! God, that is a confirmed Touchdown!"
"The San Francisco 49ers answer right back with a Touchdown of their own! They're closing the gap! The suspense is back in this game!"
This wasn't Kirk's commentary, but Teddy's. Lost in the moment, his passion surging and his blood boiling, his hoarse, rapid-fire shouts burst forth with unbelievable energy. Even seeing it all with their own eyes, they still couldn't believe it—
First a sack, then a fumble, and finally a long bomb, ending in a perfect Touchdown!
This might just be the most exciting offensive play of the entire season! With all its twists and turns, the adrenaline was absolutely pumping. Teddy shot to his feet, raising his hands high, mirroring the referee's signal on the field for the final confirmation—
"Touchdown! The San Francisco 49ers have scored a Touchdown!"
Roars, insane roars, blasted from the TV screen. The small speakers seemed unable to contain the commentator's unhinged broadcast, but to the fans in Joe's Bar, it was the most beautiful music in the world. The moment they saw the referee's signal confirming the Touchdown, the entire bar erupted.
Jonathan was the first one to leap into the air, as if he'd shed thirty years in an instant. He did a scissor kick mid-air and pumped his right fist. The sleeping lion began to roar. "Touchdown! A goddamn Touchdown! That's a motherfucking Touchdown!" Jonathan's eyes were bloodshot as he faced everyone in his line of sight, roaring again and again, "Touchdown! Touchdown! Touchdown!"