"Roar!"
Rarely seen, Foster let out a roar, this normally silent and honest man during training showed his mettle in such a game, smashing the football onto the ground, igniting cheers from the entire field.
Opposite, Watson simply could not believe this scene, angrily taking off his helmet, cursing and muttering to himself all the way to the Tigers’ rest area, his dark complexion could rival the bottom of a pot, the swearing wouldn’t stop.
The situation, once again, quietly shifted.
At this moment, Sweeney also realized his mistake, but it was too late for regrets. Turning around, he saw Lawrence and the others’ eager looks, hesitated no more, waved his hand boldly, and the main players took to the field—
If it had come to this, then victory was a must.
In competitive sports, there was nothing that a victory couldn’t solve; if they won, all mistakes would vanish like smoke, and the Tigers’ spring preparations could conclude with a perfect ending.
Sweeney’s eyes radiated determination:
"Crimson Tide Storm’s offense VS Tigers’ Defense Squad."
The weak points of the two teams could be the key to deciding the outcome of the game, but Sweeney was confident, as long as they could stop this offensive wave, Watson would take the field again to clinch the victory.
Everything hinged on this moment.
Lawrence didn’t think twice; seeing the coach’s signal, he pushed off the ground and rushed out, returning to the field in a sprinter’s burst, scanning the crowd, he instantly caught sight of that figure—
Number twenty-three.
A smile appeared on Lawrence’s lips, was that guy ready? He wasn’t Farrell; he was about to show what a real defensive line was, and that the starting position wasn’t earned through backdoors—Farrell couldn’t even carry his shoes.
Li Wei felt a chill on the back of his neck, goosebumps erupting uncontrollably, turning reflexively to spot Lawrence’s figure in the crowd.
Clearly, Lawrence made no attempt to conceal his intentions; not only that, but when their eyes clashed, he raised his right thumb, gently dragged it across his throat, and revealed a set of white teeth with a wide grin.
"Haha.
Hahaha.
You will remember me well, my name will become your nightly nightmare, waking each night from fear and shame—I’ll take good care of you."
Indeed, Sweeney needed to apply pressure at the front line. Beteman was not a player who could walk through pressure with ease. This was also the fundamental reason Saban chose Hertz as the main quarterback—though Hertz too was still young and needed more polishing. The Tigers’ front-line pressure and rushing tactics were correct.
But the young defensive players’ attention was completely captured by Li Wei.
This was still correct, at least the tactics hadn’t deviated from Sweeney’s plan, but the details were not precise enough, leaving room for Saban to exploit. Explore stories at мѵʟ
The tactic, issue the command—
"Attack!"
Beteman signaled the start of play, took the football from the center, and immediately turned around. Within two crossover steps, he was already converging with the advancing Li Wei. Beteman stuffed the football into Li Wei’s arms.
Lawrence: Got you!
Stamping the ground, starting, sprinting.
Lawrence’s advance was very firm, watching number twenty-three intently, who clearly sensed the heightened intensity of the defense. He made a feint, first swaying towards the middle but it was just a bluff; he then swiftly cut to the right. His speed exploded after the feint.
In today’s game, both instances of significant ground gains were made through the right.
Lawrence wasn’t fooled. He planted his feet, came to a sudden halt, then quickly changed direction with a sharp lateral move. He shook off the opposing Cotton instantly, demonstrating abilities far superior to Farrell’s, at least at the current stage—more mature and more dominant. He tore through the offensive line’s blocking with a single yank.
With a push, Lawrence broke free from Cotton’s grasp and dove forward like lightning. He wasn’t taking things lightly. His focus was entirely on the technique of the tackle; he wasn’t going to miss the grab like that idiot Farrell.
Number twenty-three was within reach.
Lawrence was elated.
It was only half a beat too late when he realized something was amiss. Number twenty-three seemed to be crashing into him in an embrace.
So, was it Lawrence who tackled number twenty-three, or was it number twenty-three who tackled Lawrence?
At that moment, in the corner of Lawrence’s eye, he caught a glimpse of a deep brown rainbow arc streaking across the sky—
What... what’s going on? Why was the football up there?
Turning his gaze back to the front, Lawrence saw number twenty-three’s face magnify in his pupils. Everything went dark as his whole body was flipped:
Surprise!