American Football: Domination

At the edge of the red zone, third and thirteen.

Tennessee Titans' possession.

So, would the defense go for a blitz?

No!

The Kansas City Chiefs didn't blindly send pressure. Instead, they maintained their discipline and focus, keeping three defensive linemen up front to apply pressure while the rest of the defense spread out, seamlessly mixing man-to-man and zone coverage to blanket the red zone entirely.

Marcus Mariota and Derrick Henry executed a play-action fake, but it failed to deceive Kansas City. The Chiefs had already deciphered Mike Mularkey's offensive tendencies—after all the misdirection, the ball would ultimately end up in the quarterback's hands. They were ready for it.

And Justin Houston stepped up—

Shadowing the read-option.

Quarterbacks like Mariota, part of the new generation, were exceptional athletes capable of making plays with their legs. The prevalence of read-option plays in college allowed quarterbacks to thrive without refining their passing precision. As a result, pure pocket passers like Patrick Mahomes—who threw for over 4,000 yards in back-to-back seasons—were becoming rarer and less valued.

Regardless, in this moment, Kansas City had to respect the threat of Mariota taking off. Houston stayed locked on him.

Now, Mariota's weakness—his inability to quickly process defenses and make secondary reads—was fully exposed.

He scanned once—no open targets.

Scanned twice—still nothing.

Then, panic.

Elite quarterbacks excel at making secondary reads—adjusting to defensive shifts post-snap. That skill separates the greats from the rest.

Mariota? He didn't have it.

Houston instantly recognized Mariota's indecision—his frantic, unsteady footwork was a dead giveaway. At that moment, the read-option threat disappeared. Houston quickly checked Kansas City's defensive positioning—every passing lane was covered, suffocating Tennessee's options.

He charged forward.

Pressure. Pass rush. Sack.

But—

Henry emerged.

In the past, Henry struggled with timing and positioning in pass protection, often missing crucial blocks. But this time, he was patient and precise, stepping in just as Houston advanced.

Henry: Lance, are you watching?

Lance was watching. Henry's block was sharp, his awareness a noticeable improvement. The momentary disruption slowed Houston just enough—

Mariota broke out.

Rolling left, changing direction.

Mariota's pocket movement was solid. Once outside, his field of vision expanded—but so did Kansas City's defensive coverage. The Chiefs had walled off every route, leaving no space for a pass or a run.

Now what?

Red jerseys closed in.

Mariota hesitated, then flung the ball—

A blind throw.

Lance followed the ball's trajectory. The angle, the arc, the placement—it was all a mess. A desperation heave before the sack arrived, likely resulting in an incomplete pass.

Then—hands appeared.

Darrelle Revis, wearing #24 for the Chiefs, stepped up.

Revis—a legendary NFL cornerback.

A ten-year veteran, seven-time Pro Bowler, four-time All-Pro, and a member of the 2010s All-Decade Team. At his peak, he was so dominant in coverage that his side of the field was nicknamed "Revis Island."

But at 31, injuries and age had caught up with him. His declining athleticism and unwillingness to take a pay cut led to his release from the New York Jets. For most of the season, he remained unsigned.

In late November, the Chiefs, struggling with defensive injuries, extended an offer. They needed experience in the secondary, and Revis accepted.

Now, in the playoffs, he was part of the rotation.

Revis read Mariota's errant throw—it lacked height. Instinctively, he leaped up, extending his arms to snatch the interception.

But—rushed and off-balance, Mariota's throw had too much spin. Revis couldn't secure it cleanly. Instead, he swatted it down—

A block!

Like a basketball player swatting a shot, Revis deflected the ball.

And it bounced right back—

Straight into Mariota's hands.

Mariota: …Huh?

Reflexively, Mariota caught his own pass. Without hesitation, he tucked the ball and darted left—Revis, still regaining his footing, couldn't react in time.

Mariota slipped past him.

And into the end zone.

The stadium fell silent.

Henry froze. Houston froze. Revis froze. Even Mariota stood there, momentarily stunned.

What just happened?

"…Uh."

"This…"

"Mariota just threw a touchdown pass—to himself!"

"This is…this counts!"

"If I'm not mistaken—let me confirm—but this might be the first self-caught touchdown pass in NFL playoff history! What did we just witness?!"

Kansas City's defense had played this possession flawlessly.

They had suffocated Tennessee's offense, leaving Mariota with nowhere to go. It was over—third and thirteen had become a dead end.

Yet—

A miracle.

Henry threw his arms up, immediately celebrating.

Finally!

Regardless of how it happened, Tennessee had reached the end zone. The score gap had narrowed, and the game was alive again.

Henry: Yes! YES!

In front of the TV, Burns turned to Saban. "When was the last time Derrick was this happy about a touchdown?"

For Henry, scoring had always been routine, as effortless as breathing. He never celebrated too much—it was just business.

But this time?

First, he'd helped drive Tennessee into the red zone. Then, he made a crucial block to extend the play. This touchdown wasn't just a score—it was a triumph.

Saban nodded. "Now he looks like the Derrick we remember. And he's finally evolved. It took longer than expected, but better late than never. This game just got interesting."

Burns glanced at Saban. "Oh? You think things might change?"

Saban didn't answer. He just kept his eyes on Henry—

Because in Henry's gaze, he saw it again.

That fire.

That killer instinct.

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Powerstones?

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