Lance is no Derrick Henry.
Lance isn't suited for brute force battles. Instead, his speed, agility, quick shifts, and lightness make him a completely different style of running back. And today, he showcased that to perfection. Through keen observation, sharp judgment, and on-the-fly adjustments, Lance repeatedly found and exploited gaps in the defense, breaking open the field from the edges.
This was the third time today.
Light on his feet, agile, and swift, Lance danced on the edge of danger, slipping through the cracks like a shadow, navigating seemingly impossible situations with the grace of an assassin.
He was the Edge Runner.
His feet hugged the sideline, seemingly about to step out of bounds, but with a dazzling display of footwork, Lance regained balance. Just when it looked like he was losing control, the momentum from his forward sprint pulled him through. His movements, smooth and elegant, were a masterful display of athleticism—more art than sport.
The crowd, mesmerized, sat wide-eyed in awe. Each spectator became a fan, breathless, watching this masterpiece unfold before them.
Blake Ledger's spontaneous nickname for Lance had perfectly captured his essence. Pash's excitement peaked at this fitting description, his face flushed as if he were drunk, his voice rising in pitch, practically piercing the heavens.
"My God, he's not stopping. He's still going!"
All the cheers were cut short. Both Pash and Blake Ledger were stunned, mouths slightly agape, as they watched the scene unfold.
Austin Jackson, another Tigers safety, stood in Lance's path. At 6'2", 220 pounds, Jackson was built like a bear. He wasn't fast, perhaps even a bit sluggish, but he wasn't giving up.
When Muse's tackle failed, it left the backfield wide open, the Tigers' last line of defense crumbling.
Jackson couldn't afford to fail.
Gritting his teeth, he surged forward with all his strength. As Lance entered the red zone, Jackson closed in. His eyes were filled with determination; he wasn't aiming to tackle. Instead, he planned to use his weight, momentum, and full force to knock Lance out of bounds.
Jackson was fully committed.
He had size and mass on his side.
But Lance didn't dodge. Instead, he charged straight at Jackson.
The entire Bryant-Denny Stadium fell silent, every throat seized in anticipation.
A massive sound reverberated across the field as Jackson, unprepared, collided head-on with Lance. He felt the force from Lance drive back into him, pushing his own weight and strength against him. His chest reverberated with a deep thud, his ribs seemingly about to crack under the pressure.
Then, Jackson was flipped over.
By all appearances, Jackson was stronger, bigger than Lance. Yet, in this head-on collision, he stood no chance.
The world spun as Jackson's organs twisted and churned. It felt like he'd been hit by a freight train, sending him flying backward.
His surroundings blurred into streaks of light as he tumbled helplessly.
Lance exploded with energy.
With a roar, power surged through him from deep within, as if a floodgate had been released. Jackson's massive frame had become just another obstacle, one that Lance barreled through without hesitation.
The stadium erupted into pandemonium.
The collective heartbeat of the crowd soared. Pash leaped to his feet, only to realize that the entire Bryant-Denny Stadium was already standing, waves of crimson roaring in unison.
The tides were building. Eyes wide open, breath held, the crowd watched intently as two bodies tussled near the goal line, anticipation thick in the air.
One yard. Another yard. Yet another yard.
It was a battle of strength against strength, body against body, red jerseys locked in a desperate dance with white ones. The temperature climbed, passion ignited, and the ticking clock thundered in everyone's ears as hearts pounded in their chests. Blood boiled as the intensity hit its peak, threatening to set the soul aflame.
They watched as Lance drove Jackson across the goal line. In one final burst of power, he threw Jackson aside, tossing him away like a discarded rag doll.
Jackson, like the fragile plastic bag floating aimlessly in American Beauty, collapsed helplessly to the ground.
His legs stood firm in the end zone. He'd powered through all the obstacles, turning the impossible into reality, breaking through every barrier to reach the promised land of the end zone.
Face flushed, drenched in sweat, veins bulging from the sheer effort, Lance was a living embodiment of raw, unrestrained power. Like the Hulk, he slammed the football into the ground with all his might.
A cry burst from him.
The crowd followed suit, an unstoppable tidal wave of emotion engulfing the stadium.
No one could contain themselves. No one was immune to the sheer power of the moment.
Pash could hear nothing but the ringing in his ears, his voice hammering away at his eardrums like a drumbeat. His temples throbbed, and he felt as if his voice was echoing from a distant canyon.
The crowd roared, the deafening sound reverberating throughout Bryant-Denny Stadium. It was hard to tell if it was the boiling blood that had turned their vision red, or if the crimson storm that had engulfed the field was the cause.
A sea of red had swallowed the trembling, pitiful patches of white, solidifying Crimson Tide's home-field dominance.
"The Crimson Tide didn't just seize the opportunity for a touchdown—they used their ground game to run out the clock."
"This is it, folks. The game is over. Crimson Tide have defeated the Tigers in a thrilling last-second victory, not even needing the extra point. '27:24,' the final score is locked in!"
According to football rules, if a team's victory is secured when time runs out, they can forgo the extra point. However, if a team scores a touchdown as time expires and the outcome is still undecided, they can attempt an extra point or a two-point conversion even with zero seconds left on the clock.
But Crimson Tide didn't need any more points today.
"The Tigers led by three touchdowns at halftime, shutting out the home team. Everyone thought the game was over, just a practice session from then on. But no one anticipated Crimson Tide turning the second half into a one-man show for number 23."
"Lance racked up an astounding 351 yards on the ground and scored three rushing touchdowns, cementing himself as the undisputed star of the game. His dominant performance completely overshadowed the Tigers' star quarterback, Deshaun Watson."
The stadium had lost its mind. Even though this was just a preseason game, given the rivalry between the teams and Watson's cocky first-half attitude, this victory felt as sweet as winning the national championship. The crowd was ablaze, painting the sky a vivid crimson red.