American Football: Domination

Stumbling, staggering—

Even though the Kansas City Chiefs' offense reignited their fighting spirit and prepared to battle, the Pittsburgh Steelers' defense remained highly alert, refusing to let their guard down. Once again, the Steelers demonstrated why they had been at the pinnacle of the AFC for the past sixteen years.

Smith leaned on quick short passes, reducing his release time and connecting before the cornerbacks could lock down his targets. This gave Hill and Kelce time to make their catches. But the Steelers' defenders, both corners and linebackers, stayed sharp, limiting any yards after the catch.

In just over a minute, the Chiefs struggled to advance a mere 16 yards. They barely managed a first down before facing a 3rd-and-4 situation. With the two-minute warning approaching, the midfield marker still seemed like a mountain they had yet to climb.

Huff, huff.

Every player was gasping for air. The grueling clashes were wearing both teams down. Now, it was a test of sheer willpower.

What would the Chiefs do on 3rd-and-4?

Run the ball?

In his peripheral vision, TJ Watt locked onto Smith and Lance preparing for a handoff. Like a tiger leaping from its perch, Watt launched himself forward—but as soon as he took that first step, he realized it was a trick.

Play-action pass.

Reid exploited the Steelers' fear of Lance's ground game, calling a bold play-action on 3rd-and-4.

Lance, now a sixth offensive lineman, positioned himself in front of Smith to block.

Watt, caught off guard, didn't panic. He braked, spun on his left foot like a top, and hurled himself toward Smith's passing trajectory.

Target: Kelce.

Crash!

Watt collided with Kelce as the pass arrived. Kelce couldn't secure the catch, and the ball nearly fell into the hands of cornerback Hilton—

Almost intercepted.

Gasp!

The entire Arrowhead Stadium sucked in a collective breath, hearts skipping a beat.

That was close—so close to the Steelers ending the game right there.

But relief was short-lived.

4th-and-4.

The Steelers' defense had forced another three-and-out. But this time, there was no room for the Chiefs to punt.

Going for it on fourth down wasn't up for debate. The question was, could they convert? This wasn't a manageable 4th-and-1 or 4th-and-2. It was a daunting 4th-and-4—like dancing on a knife's edge.

The crisis reached an unprecedented peak.

But there was no time for nerves.

Formation.

Alignment.

Snap.

Everything moved with mechanical precision, Smith's cadence slicing through the tension in the air.

"Offense!"

Run or pass?

Thud! Thud-thud!

Helmets clashed. Muscles collided. The Steelers dialed up heavy pressure from the front—

Tomlin took a gamble.

Despite having the lead, time on their side, and control of the game, Tomlin sent extra men to rush the quarterback. Even if the blitz failed, they had a cushion. But if it succeeded, they'd end the game right here.

Tomlin was both calm and bold.

Though the Steelers rarely blitz in their 3-4 defensive scheme, their front-seven still packed a punch.

Three defensive linemen and two linebackers surged forward.

The pocket tightened, an ominous storm looming over Smith.

Yet Smith remained unfazed. It wasn't veteran poise—it was faith. Without hesitation, he turned and extended his right hand for the handoff.

Lance stepped up.

With the Chiefs' passing game stifled all night, Reid placed the burden squarely on Lance's shoulders. Whether using him as a decoy on 3rd-and-4 or handing him the ball on 4th-and-4, Lance was pivotal.

All around, the air vibrated with the roar of the crowd. Every breath, every exhale, burned like fire. The suffocating heat pressed down, intensifying the tension.

But Lance was locked in.

—Hayward!

Lance's eyes caught Cameron Hayward bearing down on him, laser-focused. The Steelers' defensive lineman shrugged off the offensive tackle and barreled toward Lance like a tank.

Stay calm. Stay calm.

Lance knew Hayward's experience and instincts. If he made a reckless move, Hayward would adjust, trapping him in a tackle.

The gust of wind was mixed with sweat and the scent of blood.

Closer. Closer—

Hayward spread his arms wide, cutting off all escape routes. Just as the two were about to collide, Lance bent his knees, dipped low, and twisted backward—like Neo dodging bullets in The Matrix.

Whoosh!

The stadium gasped in astonishment.

Shoulder to shoulder, Lance slipped right under Hayward's arms, brushing past him.

Step.

Before Lance could fully regain his footing, he saw Watt charging toward him.

With the Steelers crashing the short-yardage zone, Lance had no room to breathe. Even Hilton, the cornerback, was closing in from the right.

Lance hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, he darted left, sidestepping Watt's grasp.

But out of nowhere—

Bam!

Hayward again!

The unexpected hit from behind sent Lance stumbling forward. His balance wavered, his legs flailing.

In that split second, Lance made a choice. He stopped trying to evade. Instead, he embraced the momentum and charged straight at Watt.

Watt: ???

Just a moment ago, Watt was adjusting to Lance's sidestep.

Suddenly, Lance came hurtling toward him. Watt wasn't prepared for a head-on collision.

Thud!

Oof!

Both men grunted as their bodies collided.

Watt braced to wrap Lance up—but Lance was ready. His core muscles tensed like steel cables. Using the recoil from the collision, he fought against gravity and pulled himself upright.

Watt fell backward.

Lance spun around.

Somehow, they separated.

Before Watt could finish his tackle, Lance pirouetted to shed the contact, and in one fluid motion, he burst left.

The entire stadium watched, mouths agape, hearts pounding in their chests.

What just happened?

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Powerstones?

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