Standing behind the offensive line, Smith scanned the defensive formation. His pounding heartbeat and rapid breaths combined into a deafening roar in his ears—time and air seemed frozen.
He just wanted to win. Not to prove anything—just to win, once.
Then, slowly, he bent his knees and lowered his center of gravity, eyes locked on the defense before him, focus sharper than ever.
As expected, the Eagles' defense formed a pocket—cornerbacks hugging the sidelines, safeties deep, linebackers crowding the line. A neat box to trap the offense.
In simple terms: their top priority was preventing sideline throws to stop the clock. The Eagles' strategy was clear.
All the pressure fell squarely on the Chiefs.
The Chiefs, unsurprisingly, lined up in a shotgun formation—a classic passing setup. Though Lance and Hunt, both running backs, were present, their positioning made it a five-wide receiver formation.
In situations , no one's hiding anything tactically. It was all laid bare—for both sides.
Smith let out a long breath, centering himself.
The snap call cut through the air like a bolt of lightning, unleashing a wave of intensity.
Boom. Boom boom boom.
The Eagles didn't blitz, but their defensive line still surged forward immediately, initiating heavy contact. The linebackers joined the cornerbacks in tight man coverage.
Five receivers vs. five defenders.
Pederson's strategy was suddenly crystal clear:
Three linebackers and two cornerbacks in man-to-man coverage. Two safeties formed a deep zone net. The D-line applied token pressure—enough to punish any slip in protection or prolonged pocket time.
Detailed, thorough, and aggressive.
If Foles and Ertz couldn't seal the win, then the defense would.
One-on-one matchups. Simple as that.
Linebacker Bradham noticed something wrong—
Everyone knew Lance was the Chiefs' biggest threat. But in a situation , the running back's impact dropped sharply. Unless his route went toward the sideline, he wasn't a likely target. So Bradham was assigned to cover him alone.
Still, Bradham remained alert. Something felt off—he had a hunch Lance and Reid were planning something.
The ball snapped. Four receivers darted out.
But Lance didn't move.
Bradham's instincts flared. He began to advance—but quickly stopped himself. Stay put. Don't bite.
"Smith hands the football to Lance without hesitation—the Chiefs open with a ground play!"
In such a tense, dangerous moment, the Chiefs broke convention and handed the ball to Lance.
Everyone was suddenly reminded of Week 6 against the Steelers—same setup, same desperation. Smith hit Lance over the middle, who sliced through for the game-winning score.
Could this be a repeat?
The stadium fell silent. Every jaw dropped.
Sue's heart leapt into her throat.
Lance was locked in. No distractions. His focus was total.
He took the handoff and burst forward.
Step. Push. Acceleration.
Having lined up as a receiver, he now launched from behind. One step to the right—and then:
The same defensive end who earlier notched the game's only sack exploded through a block. Tossing aside the lineman, he hurled himself at Lance like a human missile.
He could see Lance clear in his sights. Ecstatic, he lunged—
But Lance was ready. A burst of speed—unannounced, immediate.
Graham missed completely. His joy still flickering in his eyes, he flew through open space.
Lance didn't look back. He hit full speed, but couldn't yet break free—
Waiting. Arms wide like a hawk about to snatch prey. Lance charged straight at him.
Then—at the last second—
Not a juke, but a full Marseille roulette—spinning 360 degrees clockwise, Lance slipped past Bradham's tackle and broke inside.
Bradham's momentum carried him out of the play—he crashed down, mind blank, unable to comprehend what just happened.
Lance was already gone.
He ran like lightning—eyes scanning, feet dancing. Every second was precious.
Lance chose the middle—piercing the Eagles' soft spot like a dagger. His burst sowed chaos in their defense.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
On the sideline, Pederson waved frantically, signaling his defense to collapse the pocket.
The Eagles weren't unprepared. They remembered what happened to the Steelers. After a moment of hesitation, they closed in fast.
Trap set. Surround him.
The ambush was in place.
Pederson was ready, after all.
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