"Yo, yo, yo!"
As Lance and Jacobs walked side by side, Crimson Tide players started hooting and hollering. Both Lance and Jacobs glanced around in confusion until Clark helpfully explained.
"They're betting on who's going to be on the front page of tomorrow's Crimson White."
The Crimson White is the Alabama University school newspaper. The na reflects the proud tradition of the university's athletic dominance, covering the school's teams across various NCAA sports.
Though today's ga was just a scrimmage, it was sure to stir up so heated discussions—not just on campus, but probably throughout the entire town.
"I'm betting on Foster," soone called out. "That interception against Watson turned the ga around."
"Hey, did you even think about poor Allen, who missed the sack on Watson?"
Allen silently flipped the guy off, causing a wave of laughter.
"I'm betting on Lance," another player chid in. "That dude's an absolute beast—no offense, man!"
"Haha."
The laughter was boisterous. Before Lance could respond, the players were already chattering nonstop.
"Yeah, no kidding! Three hundred rushing yards? That's savage."
"Did you see the look on the Tigers' defense? Absolutely priceless!"
"No, no, no, that wasn't the Tigers. That was a bunch of house cats."
Another round of collective laughter.
All eyes turned to Lance, who casually shrugged and said, "Well, if they can't stop , I kinda feel bad for them."
Whistles, jeers, and cheers echoed through the group.
Lance grinned, adding, "Fellas, I get what you're doing here. You're just using as a lightning rod to draw attention away from Hurts and Bateman. You want to take the heat so they can have it easy. Well, I guess I'll wear the crown for a bit, but only temporarily."
Roars of laughter.
Soone called out Hurts' na, and the usually quiet quarterback, who had been standing off to the side, was suddenly thrust into the spotlight. He looked a bit sheepish.
As the team's quarterback, Hurts was expected to lead, especially in football, where quarterbacks are typically the stars. In the NFL, the quarterback is always the center of attention. But today, in this ga, he had taken a backseat.
With a good-natured but slightly embarrassed look on his face, Hurts said, "Yeah, I think Lance should get the cover."
Lance waved his hand, "No, no, no, I think the front page should be you."
Everyone: ??? Did Lance hit his head?
Even Hurts looked puzzled.
Lance continued, "Co on, man. After that first-half shutout, I bet the people who doubted the Crimson Tide offense are eating their words now."
The group burst into even louder laughter.
Hurts, laughing along with everyone else, felt a bit lighter. He had been feeling down—it was his first ti playing for the Crimson Tide, and his performance had been lackluster. He couldn't shake the feeling that everyone was judging him, whispering about his failure. The weight of expectation had been crushing him.
But now that Lance had addressed the elephant in the room, Hurts felt a strange sense of relief. Facing failure head-on was the only way to learn and grow.
He looked at Lance, who gave him a thumbs-up and mouthed a word: team.
They were a team. They'd win as a team and lose as a team.
Soon after, Humphrey, Bateman, and the others sward Lance, but Hurts had already found his smile again. Even if the Crimson White front page was about him tomorrow, that was okay. He was ready to face whatever ca his way, just like Lance had said:
To wear the crown, you must bear its weight.
As Hurts reflected, a loud cheer cut through the noise, breaking his thoughts.
"Ah! Lance!"
Bryant-Denny Stadium was still buzzing, but the shrillness of the scream sliced through the clamor like a knife, pulling everyone's attention in that direction.
Not just Hurts, but all the Crimson Tide players looked toward the source of the noise. In the sea of red, a group of about ten girls stood out, waving white jerseys, capturing everyone's attention with ease.
"Lance!"
"Lance, I love you!"
"Ahhhhh!"
The different cries blended together, and when Lance, looking bewildered, turned toward the noise, the setting sun cast a warm glow on his face. That small gesture set off a frenzy of cheers that spiraled out of control.
One octave, two octaves, three octaves—the energy beca insane.
Lance: ?
Lance had thought of himself as just a no-na player. He had only been with the Crimson Tide for three weeks, and he figured most people didn't even know how to pronounce his na correctly. What Lance forgot was that this was Alabama University. This was Tuscaloosa. Here, football held a special kind of reverence.
During the team's last scrimmage, Lance's incredible performance had already won over the fans. Today, once again, Lance stole the show, step by step, reshaping his place on the team.
And that wasn't the end of it.
Other fans, noticing the commotion, began to gather around the players' tunnel. Huge n banged on the advertising boards, creating a thunderous bam bam bam as they passionately chanted Lance's na.
"Lance! Lance! Lance!"
The chant wasn't in sync, but the fiery enthusiasm was unmistakably unified, creating an unstoppable wave of energy. The setting sun, along with the roaring crowd, crashed down like an avalanche.
Wave after wave.
Even Allen, the seasoned veteran who prided himself on having seen it all, was wide-eyed, stunned by the intensity of the mont.
Clearly, the answer to who would be on tomorrow's Crimson White front page had been revealed.
And sure enough—
"Derrick Henry's Successor? No, He's Lance—the Unique, Unstoppable 'Edgerunner'."
The front page of the Crimson White featured a full-page photo of Lance sprinting along the sideline, capturing the very essence of speed. The headline referenced the nickna coined by announcers Pash and Blackledge during the live broadcast, marking Lance's first official appearance as part of the Crimson Tide.
Whether people had watched the scrimmage or not, one thing was clear: a rising star had made his debut.
Derrick Henry's dominance over the past two years had brought unparalleled glory to the Crimson Tide. He had won the school's second Heisman Trophy, following in the footsteps of 2009 winner Mark Ingram II. But with Henry's departure to the professional leagues, the pressing question had been: Who would carry the torch for the Tide's elite ground ga?
Perhaps now they had their answer.
At least, that's what the Crimson White believed.
And ESPN agreed.
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