American Football: Domination

The buzz around the regular season swelled, marching toward the playoffs like rolling thunder.

January 5th, Saturday.

The AFC's first Wild Card game opened the curtain on the postseason:

"#3 seed Houston Texans vs. #6 seed Indianapolis Colts."

A divisional clash, AFC South rivals locked in combat. Their regular-season meetings had already been razor-thin—each ending with a game-winning field goal. Both had burned themselves to the edge.

Now, in the playoffs, nothing less than all-out war.

On one side, the Texans, led by Watson's rise and Watt's comeback—finally with captains on both sides of the ball.

On the other, the Colts, with Luck healthy at last and Reich proving his mettle after the coaching drama.

Analysts leaned slightly toward Houston. Watt's defense was trustworthy, Watson had shown growth, and the balance suggested championship potential. Many said this was Watt's best chance—maybe his last—to finally reach the top.

This season, healthy at last, Watt had been brilliant: 16 sacks, second in the league only to Donald. A force of nature.

Watt himself was humble:

"Focus on the present. One step at a time. I want victory, I want to bring more honor to this team. I'll give everything on the field. We fight together to the end."

Watson, however, puffed his chest:

"I'm ready. Ready to challenge the best. Luck. Brady. Lance. I don't care. If I play at 100%, we can beat anyone."

Confidence of the young. Pressure mounting from both Lance and Lamar Jackson, Watson knew he had to prove himself.

And then—he didn't.

The game unfolded, Watt anchoring the defense: 2 sacks, 4 hits, a pass breakup. The Texans stayed in it. But the offense? Watson faltered.

His stats looked fine—yards, completion %, no picks, no fumbles. But the truth lay elsewhere. Houston converted just 3 of 13 third downs. They went for it on fourth five times, failed three. No killer instinct in key moments. Too raw, too sloppy.

Final score: 21–7, Colts.

Disappointment rippled across the league. A supposed showdown, and instead a dud. Fans crave playoff tension, the single-elimination thrill. They still spoke of 2012's double-overtime Broncos vs. Ravens classic. This? Forgettable.

Social media mocked the Texans: "Hopeless," "Frauds." Some dragged up their 30–0 Wild Card humiliation against Kansas City. Some even sneered, "Watt will never win a Super Bowl."

Unfair.

Watt had given everything—bleeding, cramping, dehydrated, yet still fighting until the last snap. A warrior's body, scarred but unbroken. He owed no one anything.

But he couldn't stop the heartbreak.

Postgame, facing reporters, Watt's eyes reddened. He forced strength into his voice:

"We'll be back."

Deep breath.

"We'll be back."

Brief words, but heavy with pain.

His phone overflowed with calls and texts. Instead of wallowing, Watt answered each one, comforting others when he was the one who needed comfort.

Then—Lance's message appeared.

"This was a defeat, but not a failure. We'll be beaten, but we won't be broken."

Direct. Blunt. Honest.

Where others soothed, Lance faced the truth head-on. Defeat stings, but how you face it—that's what makes champions.

Watt broke. Silent tears. Then typed back:

"Keep Pounding."

Reply came quick:

"Last Man Standing."

Watt smiled, bitter but genuine. At least he could still laugh.

And now, the result meant the path was set: as the #6 seed Colts advanced, their reward was clear.

They would travel to Arrowhead Stadium. To face the #1 seed, Kansas City Chiefs.

Another battle loomed.

Watt thought, Now it's on that rookie kid.

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Powerstones?

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