"Attack!"
Mahos called the snap, making a swift and decisive move. No theatrics, no misdirection—just a clean and efficient handoff to Lance, wasting no ti at all.
At the start of the ga, both offense and defense execute their plays exactly as designed, probing the opponent while verifying their own form and strategy. Every move is calculated and determined.
The football landed cleanly in Lance's arms.
No delay.
In an instant, the overwhelming pressure from across the line ca crashing down. The air tightened. The eyes of the Pittsburgh Steelers' defense ignited with fire, each player gritting their teeth, unleashing explosive energy.
Roll, roll, roll.
Thundering montum bore down on Lance—
A blitz!
For the second straight play, the Steelers brought pressure. Tomlin showed his audacity by opening the ga with relentless aggression, planning to give rookie quarterback Mahos a harsh welco.
Sacks or not, the goal was to ratchet up pressure, pushing the tempo and tension to new heights. For a young, inexperienced quarterback like Mahos, it wasn't just about skill—adjusting his breathing, maintaining focus, and keeping pace with the ga were all at risk.
If the defense could force mistakes before Mahos found rhythm or clarity, they'd take the upper hand.
That was the tactical advantage. And a strategic one too.
Even with all of Reid's experience, there was no shortcut for a young quarterback's learning curve. Mistakes had to be made. Lessons, learned on the field.
Tomlin's approach revealed both cunning and sharp awareness.
But what about Reid?
Of course, Reid understood Mahos' inexperience. He wouldn't co unprepared.
The first play: a quick short pass—no decision-making needed. It tested only the team's execution from offseason drills.
The second: a ground play, shifting the burden off Mahos and onto their top scorer—Lance.
Which brings us to this mont:
Lance vs. the defense.
The Steelers didn't panic. Blitz or not, whether targeting the QB or the RB, pressure was pressure. As soon as Mahos handed off the ball, the defense adjusted without hesitation.
Clash! Collision! Push! Breakthrough! All in one motion.
Defensive end Heyward had already breached the pocket.
A veteran with years in the league, Heyward had played it smart—his first blitz relied on containnt, letting the linebackers strike. This ti, it was a direct assault, aiming to break through himself.
Sa tactic, different rhythm.
Before anyone could blink, Heyward was in the pocket. A stutter step, a quick disengage—he shook off the offensive lineman and locked his hawk-like eyes on Lance.
And Lance—
Didn't move.
Literally stood still.
Heyward: Was he paralyzed with fear?
By all logic, Mahos had made a clean handoff for a ground play, which was designed to give Lance a running start through a fleeting window—before the defense could close in.
That was Lance's specialty—bursting through gaps before defenders could react.
Everyone in the league knew: give Lance space, and he becos nearly impossible to stop. So defenses aid to compress his launching pad.
This should've been such a mont.
But instead, Lance did sothing bizarre—
He just stood there, unmoving.
Heyward: ???
He knew Lance wasn't frozen in fear, but in a split-second situation, he didn't have the ti or ntal bandwidth to rationalize it.
His montum had already begun—he had no choice but to press on.
All he could do now was heighten his alertness, knowing—
Aside from his explosive speed, Lance also had elite agility.
In this razor-thin mont, Heyward missed a critical detail—or rather, a blind spot: what was happening behind him.
Not just Heyward—TJ Watt, Vince Williams, and cornerback Burns all noticed Lance's stillness.
They had no choice—this ground play was so clear, it demanded their attention. And now, Lance's odd behavior stood out.
Thoughts fired in all directions. So even wondered—
Is Lance about to throw a pass?
As absurd as it sounded, the doubt was there. And so, every defender's second reaction varied just slightly.
Chaos brewed.
And Lance saw it all.
The Bell Template.
Now he understood what Le'Veon Bell had seen when he paused—this frozen mont, the world slowed down. Lance had used a similar counterattack tactic before, but mostly reactively. This ti, he paused intentionally, adopting Bell's style to read the defense a second ti.
He had opened a door to a new dinsion.
While defenders scrambled to close ti gaps, Lance watched their second reactions unfold in 3D—TJ's position, Williams' angle, Burns' shift, even the distant safeties charging forward.
He read the defense in depth, the whole scene unfolding vividly in his mind.
It sounds long, but in truth, it was just a heartbeat.
And then—Heyward's shadow lood overhead.
Lance pulled his gaze back from the field and looked at Heyward's grim face. Calmly, he tilted to his back-left, dropping low.
As he bent, his body moved in a smooth clockwise arc.
Like a spinning top, he sidestepped Heyward's reach. His lower body followed, right leg lifting to clear the path.
Not a cut, just a dodge.
Heyward hadn't anticipated it. His massive fra leaned to the right in response, trying to trip or at least disturb Lance's path.
Their eyes briefly t.
Lance never even looked at Heyward. He swung his right leg around, stepping past the collapsing defender. At last, he kicked into gear, exploding forward.
A margin of inches. A difference of miles.
Heyward reached, so close—but his weight had shifted, control lost. He turned his head in frustration, catching only a fading red streak.
Heyward—missed.
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon/michaeltranslates
Reviews
All reviews (0)