American Football: Domination

In that moment, Bell once again felt his blood boil and burn—he couldn't hold back any longer.

For the first time, he shouted aloud—not for the Steelers, but for the team about to defeat them. A howl from the depths of his soul.

He shouted and couldn't stop. He tilted his head back and roared to the sky, unleashing everything.

Aaaah!

With everything he had, burning his spirit, as if his cries could travel through the TV screen to Lance, joining the inferno that was Arrowhead Stadium.

Yet Lance, standing in the end zone, did not celebrate. He simply breathed heavily, staring intently at TJ Watt, who had fought to the final moment.

Through his gaze, Lance sent a message:

This isn't over.

No matter what the Steelers did, the Chiefs would not be satisfied with a simple lead. They would keep fighting.

Lance refused to gloat over a single touchdown. He refused to relax after taking the lead. The real battle was just beginning.

TJ, gasping for breath, was just as exhausted. They were human after all. The battle had drained them. Yet when he met Lance's fiery gaze, he smiled, meeting the challenge head-on—

Challenge accepted.

30:35.

The Kansas City Chiefs had finally taken the lead again, their first since the second quarter.

Ever since the Steelers scored that safety, it was as if they had awakened a sleeping beast. The Chiefs didn't collapse like they did against the Titans in last year's Wild Card. Instead, they exploded with unified energy, elevating both defense and offense.

This was a different team.

Tomlin could clearly see—they were nothing like the Chiefs he faced in Week 6 last year.

Momentum flipped in the blink of an eye. The Steelers hit a wall.

A creeping unease filled Tomlin. It grew stronger—

Was this the calm before the storm?

Ridiculous. The battlefield was a blur of clashing blades—anything but calm. The storm was already here.

And yet, the unease wouldn't fade. Danger pulsed all around, a lingering dread of imminent disaster.

From the last offensive drive to the current defensive stand, the Steelers had ramped up their intensity. But the Chiefs overwhelmed them with a relentless surge, breaking down the visitors' resolve.

Not good.

What now?

Tomlin drew a deep breath, cleared his thoughts, and regained focus.

A veteran of countless battles, his experience anchored him.

He shoved aside the dread and zeroed in on the moment.

If it came to a Super Bowl-like shootout—score for score into the fourth quarter—Tomlin was fine with that. He believed in his team's ability to hang tough.

So now, the priority: stabilize. Don't let the gap widen.

A five-point deficit—still within one possession. Anything was possible.

Tomlin's expression gave nothing away. Stern and steady, he rallied the troops, refocused the Steelers.

Then—

Roethlisberger returned with the offense.

Would Tomlin use Brown now?

No one knew what had happened in the Steelers' locker room—just like no one knew the full story behind the stalled negotiations with Bell.

But the crisis was here. If they didn't use Brown, how would they break the Chiefs' momentum?

Tomlin gave his answer:

Antonio Brown finally became a target again.

Just like Bell, Brown's role in the offense was irreplaceable. Unless Tomlin was ready to burn the bridge entirely, he couldn't bench Brown indefinitely.

Clearly, he wasn't ready for that. Roethlisberger's passes once again locked onto Brown.

But unexpectedly—Brown ran into trouble.

At first, the Chiefs hadn't adjusted to Tomlin's change. They sent only cornerback Fowler to cover the deadly weapon.

Fowler—was phenomenal.

He stuck to Brown like glue. Despite Brown's elite skill, Fowler used his slight physical advantage and sacrificed stamina to shadow him relentlessly. He gave Brown no room to breathe, let alone make easy adjustments.

On this drive, Roethlisberger targeted Brown three times. Fowler forced one incompletion. Brown used sheer skill to make the other two catches.

But—

Even when Brown caught the ball, Fowler was right there. He never gave Brown the space to break free, buying just enough time for the Chiefs' defense to swarm in.

The defenders rallied quickly, cutting off any yards-after-catch opportunities.

In 2017, Brown was hailed as the league's most dominant receiver—not because of raw yardage, but because of his post-catch impact. He led the league in yards gained after the catch.

Meaning: even if the QB only threw 3–5 yards, Brown could turn it into a first down—or more. He inflicted damage deep in enemy territory.

No QB help. No teammate aid. Just personal brilliance. That's what separated elite receivers from average ones.

That ability was terrifying.

Otherwise, receivers were just catch points. Real value would lie with the QB. If a receiver couldn't extend plays solo, he couldn't alter a game.

Now, the Chiefs defense was shutting that ability down.

Brown—reduced from a game-changer to just another receiver.

The strategy worked beautifully.

Thanks to Fowler's superhuman performance, Brown never caught a pass in comfort. And even when he did, he couldn't break free. The Chiefs' pursuit team smothered him instantly, killing any momentum.

Originally, Chiefs defensive coordinator Sutton had panicked seeing Brown return to prominence. He was ready to double-cover him again and scrap the successful second-half schemes.

But Fowler's extraordinary play let him relax. He left Fowler on Brown—and after conferring with Reid, made a bold move:

Blitz.

Fowler was playing out of his mind—but the Chiefs couldn't let him carry the whole load, right?

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Powerstones?

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