Chapter 43: 043 Eager to Move

Name:Dominate the Super Bowl Author:


Indeed, Beteman’s passing accuracy truly was average, but don’t forget, Beteman had become the second quarterback for a traditional powerhouse like Crimson Tide Storm. Maybe his ability ceiling was lower, but he certainly wasn’t incompetent.

The short passes often relied on teamwork. As long as the ball’s trajectory wasn’t too outrageous, and the wide receiver and tight end didn’t misunderstand the tactics, then the connections could be successful.

While the Crimson Tide offensive line attracted a substantial amount of fire on the ground, Saban arranged a series of short-pass tactics to progressively penetrate the opposing defense—

Was the tactic original?

No. Saban’s passing tactics were always by the book.

Did the tactic work?

Yes.

That was already enough.

Alternating between passing and running plays, Saban’s abundant experience and astuteness once again showed their edge, consuming a total of eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds, finally scoring a touchdown in the red zone facing a third and three—

A play-action pass.

Beteman pretended to hand off the football to Li Wei, who drew the defense in, but then turned and found the tight end Hentges.

Hentges, with his back to the end zone, caught the ball and after securing it, encountered a tackle; yet, he used his physical advantage to barrel into the end zone.

Touchdown, secured!

After the extra point was successfully scored, "14:21".

The home team, Crimson Tide Storm, further closed the gap in the score, now just one touchdown away, and Bryant Denny Stadium erupted with incredible energy.

"Roar!"

"Roar!"

Although this was just a warm-up game, unrelated to winning or losing; considering the history of both teams and their clash at the national championship final earlier this year, everyone from the players to the fans exploded with incredible enthusiasm, wholeheartedly engaging in the game, no less intense than in official matches.

The Tigers, too, were no exception.

Whoosh.

Suddenly, one of the "Black-faced Yamas," Dexter Lawrence stood up. Compared to players like Watkins and Wilkins, the high schooler Lawrence was still full of youthful zeal—

Ready at all times to prove himself, never missing an opportunity.

Moreover, with Lawrence and another high schooler, number ninety-nine Farrell, competing within the team, seeing Farrell fall short of the coach’s expectations sparked Lawrence’s excitement as he intently looked towards the coach.

"24:14."

The gap in the score widened again, and with most of the fourth quarter already ticked away, it pushed the Crimson Tide Storm into a challenging position.

Watson, once again settled, resumed joking with his teammates.

Watkins and Wilkins regained their composure, with only Lawrence still eager, trying to prove himself in such a game.

The balance of victory subtly tilted toward the Tigers. Although slight, the change in situation had indeed altered the mood; one could feel a tragic pressure settling on their shoulders when the Crimson Tide Storm’s offensive group took the field again.

Li Wei felt it too.

Although it wasn’t an official match, the exhilaration of victory and defeat filled his heart. Unlike cross-country running, unlike mixed martial arts, a burden of united resolve heavily descended, tensing people up while also invigorating them.

This was his first time.

Both the Crimson Tide Storm and the Tigers felt it; the first gear of offense sparked flames—

Roar!

Farrell entered like a sumo wrestler, moving his feet while squatting down as if entering the ring, using such celebration moves to taunt the Crimson Tide Storm’s offensive group.

"Sorry."

On the offensive line, right tackle Lester Cotton offered his right hand to Li Wei, his face full of remorse.

Just then, Cotton hadn’t secured his position and was instantly broken through by Farrell, such that as soon as Li Wei caught the football from Beteman, he was faced with Farrell’s tackle and went down without any chance to move.

It was very awkward.

Cotton knew it was entirely his fault, and he needed to take full responsibility.

Li Wei caught Cotton’s right hand, pulling himself up, then patted Cotton on the shoulder, "Good effort, just don’t make the same mistake next time."

With a joke, Cotton touched his helmet.

Li Wei didn’t mind, even though Cotton’s failure to secure his position was an unacceptable error. What mattered more was that their offensive tactics had been anticipated by the opponent, with the Tigers’ defensive group taking the upper hand. That was the crux.

Moreover, in football, escaping impacts was impossible.

This recent impact left Li Wei tasting the metallic flavor of blood on his tongue—

It was a bit stimulating, a bit exhilarating.

Overpowering felt good, joyful, but crushing without a fight was too boring. Only the crushing and destruction after a contest were truly interesting.

Li Wei thought, it seems number ninety-nine was well-prepared then.