American Football: Domination

In the NFL, every player fights their own battle.

The spotlight may always be on the quarterback, but the beauty of football lies in the fact that any single moment, any single cog in the machine, can be the key to victory—even rendering the quarterback irrelevant.

Standing on the sideline, Henry watched as Lance and Hill celebrated wildly. Finally, he lowered his proud head and truly acknowledged the fellow disciple that Burns had endlessly praised.

The arrogance, the disdain, the dismissal—all of it was gone. Now, all that remained was recognition and respect, meeting Lance's gaze on equal footing.

Then.

Lance seemed to sense the look, pausing in the middle of the celebration to scan the crowd. Within seconds, his gaze met Henry's.

Strangers, yet familiar.

Perhaps they weren't friends, and maybe they never would be. From the beginning of their stories to now, they had always been competitors.

But that didn't stop them from respecting each other, from pushing themselves to surpass one another through their performances on the field.

Henry noticed—

Lance's eyes.

No provocation, no hostility, no contempt. Just a fearless and open challenge, an unyielding fighting spirit burning brightly in his gaze.

It was a battle invitation—

"Let the better man win."

That flame in Lance's eyes burned fiercely.

Unknowingly, Henry straightened his back, squared his shoulders. Deep within, something long dormant began to stir. A fire he hadn't even realized had been extinguished suddenly roared back to life with an uncontainable force.

Back in the NCAA, Henry had been so naturally dominant that he never needed to give his all, steamrolling opponents without breaking a sweat—not even Clemson had been an exception.

In the NFL, however, he had found himself with nowhere to channel his strength. Play after play, the coaches told him to run into walls, offering no tactical adjustments, no schemes to maximize his abilities. Frustration and anger consumed him, drowning him in self-pity.

Until now.

He couldn't—wouldn't—lose to Lance.

With just one shared glance, the beast inside Henry had awakened.

It lasted only a second before they both looked away. But in that instant, Henry's mind began racing at full speed.

If Coach Mularkey refused to change the game plan—if he kept running Henry straight into brick walls and continued placing all his trust in Mariota—how could Henry break free?

Think.

Think!

Wait. So this is what Coach Burns meant when he talked about Lance's strengths?

Henry had always believed he wasn't stupid, that he observed and analyzed the game like any intelligent player. Of course, he wasn't blindly running into tackles.

But now, he realized—this was a different kind of thinking.

A running back's decision-making wasn't just about following a designed play. It was about reading the entire field, understanding the defense, and adapting on the fly.

The "wall" plays Mularkey had him run were inside zone runs—straight into the heart of the defensive front, relying on brute force and offensive line push to carve a path.

A player like Lance thrived on the edges, using his agility and speed to exploit space. Henry, on the other hand, was built to bulldoze through the middle, absorbing and breaking tackles.

Edge rushes required wide receivers and tight ends to run clearing routes. Inside runs relied on offensive linemen creating gaps. If the blocking wasn't perfect, the result was often a head-on collision with a stone wall.

But did that mean Henry was helpless without perfect blocking?

No. Of course not.

Regardless of how well his offensive line performed, Henry could still read the defensive line's alignment, identify weak spots, and adjust his angle of attack. Even if the openings weren't as obvious as on the outside, he didn't need them to be. He wasn't trying to slip through a crack—he was going to blow a hole wide open.

And that changed everything.

It wasn't just about observation. It was about understanding offensive schemes.

Why was this particular play being called? Where would the receivers and tight ends be positioned? How were the linemen moving? How would the defense react?

Only by grasping the full scope of the game plan could he begin predicting defensive shifts.

This—this was real football intelligence.

Being a running back wasn't just about raw power.

Finally.

The rigid, repetitive play designs that had felt like shackles before now revealed their hidden nuances. Suddenly, the battlefield looked completely different.

When Henry returned for the second half, he saw the game with new eyes.

Tennessee's offensive approach remained unchanged—Mularkey was still prioritizing Mariota.

That was what the front office wanted.

They believed Mariota's athleticism was the key to unlocking the team's full potential. Coaches could be fired at any time, but quarterbacks weren't so easily replaced.

So, Mularkey had to follow orders.

This time, Mariota finally put together a solid drive, pushing the Titans past midfield. But at the 40-yard line, they stalled again, facing a critical third-and-three.

The chance fell to Henry.

"Attack!"

Henry exploded forward, locking his eyes on the offensive linemen ahead.

He knew the receivers were either running deep or pulling defenders toward the sideline. The middle of the field was clearing out.

But that wasn't enough.

Kansas City ran a "3-4" defensive scheme, and their three-man front had been stellar this season—especially in the red zone. The Chiefs' run defense ranked among the best in the league, and they had completely shut him down in the first half.

If he didn't adjust, he'd just be running into another brick wall.

Plant.

Take the handoff.

Drive.

Henry's eyes remained locked ahead, his body radiating unshakable determination. As soon as he took the ball from Mariota, he surged forward.

Mularkey had designed the play as a straight-ahead power run, hoping Henry could bulldoze his way to a first down.

But Henry had already seen more.

Step.

Step. Step.

His strides were powerful and deliberate, and just as he was about to collide with a mass of bodies at the line of scrimmage—

He sidestepped.

Squeeze. Shift. Push.

Henry abandoned top speed in favor of raw power, forcing his way into a narrow crease. The offensive linemen were driving defenders outward, opening a path like a set of swinging doors.

Defensive end Bailey reached out with octopus-like arms, wrapping around Henry from behind while engaged with a blocker.

Henry didn't flinch.

Instead, he pressed forward, using the offensive lineman in front of him as leverage. He turned the play into a human battering ram, driving his own teammate forward to knock Bailey off balance.

Mariota stood frozen, watching Henry bulldoze through two 300-pound linemen like a Guinness World Record attempt.

For a moment, he even forgot to follow the play.

But Henry didn't need him.

Plant.

Drive.

Explode.

Energy surged through his legs—

And Henry burst forward.

----------

Powerstones?

For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates