Saban hadn't lost his mind.
In fact, he knew exactly what he was doing. This decision came from careful calculation and deliberate strategy—
Overtime was unfavorable for the Crimson Tide.
Everyone understood how brutal and controversial sudden-death rules in football could be, leading to their official abolition in 2004. But in reality, overtime in football was even more unforgiving.
If a game ended in a tie, it went into overtime with two 15-minute halves.
In overtime, if one team scored a touchdown first, they won instantly, just like sudden death in soccer. If they kicked a field goal, the other team had a chance to respond with one of three outcomes:
They scored a touchdown and won outright.They matched the field goal, resulting in a tie and restarting the cycle.They failed to score, losing the game.
Clearly, the team that got the ball first held a significant advantage, as they dictated the game. However, the decision for first possession came down to a coin toss.
In other words, luck played a major role in overtime.
To coaches, overtime meant relinquishing control.
This describes the NFL's overtime rules, but the NCAA's system was somewhat different, resembling a penalty shootout in soccer.
Each team's offense alternately attacked from the opponent's red zone. Both teams got a chance, and the game continued until one team outscored the other within a round. Starting from the third round, field goals didn't count, and teams needed a touchdown or nothing, ensuring a winner was declared.
In 2018, the final week of the regular season featured a legendary showdown between LSU and Texas A&M that spanned seven overtimes, ending with a 74-72 victory for Texas A&M.
While the NCAA overtime rules relied less on luck, they were more physically taxing and offered less margin for error for the offense.
And right now, the Crimson Tide couldn't afford that exhaustion.
Saban knew that entering overtime would likely trap the Crimson Tide in a vicious cycle and give Watson another chance, tipping the scales slightly in Clemson's favor.
Overtime was risky, but so was the two-point conversion; however, Saban believed a two-point attempt allowed him to seize control and keep Watson on the sideline—
Or rather, watching helplessly from the edge of the field.
This risk-reward calculus was clear for Saban.
Success or failure would be decided in one play.
Saban revealed his audacious spirit, signaling for the two-point conversion.
Saban waved Clarke back as he started to leave the field.
Dazed, Clarke turned around and rejoined his teammates.
Now, Clarke was on the field alongside Lance and Hurts, plus tight end Howard. The Crimson Tide had four major threats in the short-pass area, each capable of breaking through with sheer power, adding confusion to Clemson's defensive strategy—
Lance? Hurts? Clarke? Howard?
Or maybe a pass play altogether?
Clemson's defensive players darted glances across the Crimson Tide lineup, their minds jumping to the obvious target:
In this game, Lance had rushed for 221 yards and two touchdowns, breaking Derrick Henry's season rushing record and tying his touchdown count. He was, without question, the Crimson Tide's strongest weapon.
But Lance was visibly exhausted. His speed, strength, and physical resilience had all declined. It was his first football season, and the physical toll was immense. He'd already set new records—he was running on empty.
Would Saban really risk this crucial play on a fatigued rookie?
So, Clarke—would he perform a miracle again, or would it be Hurts, the quarterback stepping up as the savior?
Endless possibilities.
Sweeney's palms were warm, then damp with sweat. He hadn't anticipated Clarke's touchdown, nor Saban's decision to go for two points. Would Saban dare call a passing play at this moment?
Sweeney called a timeout.
A rare scene unfolded. The Crimson Tide had been racing against time, but now Clemson felt the pressure.
Sweeney knew this showed his tension, but he couldn't help it—they needed to reset their defensive plan.
At this point, holding the timeout for later was pointless.
On the field, both Clarke and Hurts struggled to control their trembling fingers. The suspense and pressure weighed on them, making their knees weak.
Lance stood with calm confidence, eyes steady. He knew they could win.
Not believed—they knew, as if seeing the game's end a minute ahead. Every ounce of focus and willpower coalesced in this moment.
The timeout ended in what felt like a heartbeat.
The Alabama Crimson Tide and the Clemson Tigers lined up again at the two-yard line, a tight mass of players, the entire stadium echoing with wind and roaring tension, though the air seemed oddly still.
The Crimson Tide maintained their formation—
Hurts behind center, Clarke behind Hurts, Lance behind Clarke. The alignment blocked Lance from the defense's view, making predictions impossible.
Tension, pressure, excitement.
It wasn't just the Crimson Tide; Clemson's players were taut with nerves, the charged atmosphere needing only a spark to ignite the field.
Maybe, Lance was the only exception.
Mind clear, heart steady, eyes unwavering, he surveyed the defensive lineup. Then, Hurts' trembling voice reached his ears.
The outcome teetered on a knife's edge.
Clarke shifted right.
Lance stepped forward in a straight line, all three taking small, adjusting steps. The Clemson defense, undeterred, pressed forward with full intensity.
No—not quite, but certainly a forceful pressure.
Clemson had chosen to attack, pushing with full power like a storm cloud pressing down, dominating the space at the line of scrimmage.
And then, the ball shifted—
Hurts handed the ball to Lance.
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