A Twist of Fate

Emmons, like Jacobs, was still in high school, scheduled to enroll in September. His performance during spring training had been mediocre—not enough to compete for a starting position, and even among the substitutes, he was only the second-choice running back.

Coach Saban sent Emmons in, hoping to change the rhythm of the ground game and give Lance some time to rest and recover.

As Lance stepped off the field, Saban caught sight of him heading over to talk with Burns on the sideline. They had a brief discussion, with Burns covering his mouth with the playbook as he shared ideas. Lance nodded repeatedly, his expression calm and composed. Saban knew that Lance was ready.

The realization gave Saban pause. When had he started trusting Lance so implicitly?

He shook off the thought and refocused on the game.

Emmons' progress on the ground was average. The Tigers' defensive front was still applying intense pressure, even though their main stars, the two key defensive linemen, were on the bench. The remaining defenders were still aggressive, and Alabama's offensive line was under significant strain.

But Lance's earlier run had left an impression on the Tigers' defense, making them wary. Their attention remained focused on the front line, allowing Emmons' modest ground gains to open up the passing game for Bateman, who connected on a pass for another first down, bringing Alabama close to midfield.

Unfortunately, under pressure, Bateman's next short pass was off target, leaving Alabama with a second-and-ten. Emmons managed to grind out two yards, but now the team faced a difficult third-and-eight situation.

Midfield was just within reach.

Alabama's offense had finally found some momentum, but it stalled right before the halfway line. With a couple more first downs, they could attempt a field goal, but they were stuck.

Kicking field goals in football, while easier than in soccer, was still challenging.

Much like soccer, football defenders form a "wall" and apply pressure to disrupt the kicker's rhythm, but without a goalie and with no boundaries for the goalposts, the success rate is typically higher. Still, the further the distance from the goal, the harder it becomes.

The total distance for a field goal includes three components: the 10 yards of the end zone, the distance from the line of scrimmage to the end zone, and roughly 8 yards for the kicker's run-up.

For example, on an extra point after a touchdown, the ball is placed on the 15-yard line, making the total distance approximately 33 yards (10 + 15 + 8).

Field goals from 40-45 yards are fairly reliable, often with a success rate close to 99%. However, once the distance exceeds 50 yards, the success rate drops sharply.

Thus, the opposing team's 35-yard line is commonly referred to as the "field goal range."

If the offense stalls around the 40-yard line, they can still attempt a long-distance 58-yard field goal, though the odds are much lower. The 35-yard line, however, is a much safer bet.

Alabama had now pushed close to midfield, needing two more first downs to comfortably reach the 35-yard line for a potential field goal. But they were stuck.

Saban felt the pressure.

Bateman's inaccurate pass had been crucial, but football is a team sport, and it wouldn't be fair to blame one player. Staying calm, Saban subbed Lance back in for Emmons.

Emmons hadn't made any mistakes—Bateman's pass had been off—but with a third-and-eight scenario, Saban needed Lance to draw the defense's attention.

Third-and-eight is a long-yardage situation, and typically, a passing play is the smart choice. Ground games rarely net more than five yards per play. Saban figured the Tigers' coach, Swinney, would be expecting a pass, which is why Lance was going to be the wild card.

Saban had planned to use Lance as a secret weapon during the regular season. Though he was unsure if that plan would continue, today was a chance to see Lance in action as a decoy.

The play was set.

Bateman received the call in his earpiece and exhaled, looking over at Lance.

Lance gave him a reassuring smile and mouthed the words, "Poker face."

The subtext was clear: don't give away the play. Stay cool.

Bateman chuckled, feeling an unexpected wave of calm.

With a deep breath, he called the play.

"Set, hut!"

Bateman announced the snap, and instead of looking toward Lance, he focused on the left side of the field. He didn't even take his usual steps back to read the defense; he raised his arm immediately, ready to throw.

A quick pass!

The strategy was simple: skip the usual quarterback reads and execute a pre-planned short pass, hoping to catch the defense off guard and make a quick connection. If everything went well, the receiver or tight end would find an opening before the defense had time to react, gaining just enough yards for the first down.

As Bateman set up for the quick throw, the Tigers' defense swarmed to the left side of the field.

Everyone, except for number 99.

Clelin Ferrell, wearing number 99, was watching Lance closely.

In their last encounter, Ferrell had missed two tackles in a row, which had been a personal humiliation. He didn't care about the overall defensive strategy—his focus was solely on Lance. Driven by high school-level impulsiveness and stubbornness, Ferrell locked in on Lance and realized—

Lance wasn't moving with the rest of the offense. Instead, he was heading in the opposite direction, toward Alabama's right, the Tigers' left.

What's going on?

Ferrell didn't have time to think. He quickly adjusted, shifting his weight to the right before slamming on the brakes, cutting back to the left.

For a split second, Ferrell found himself detached from the rest of the defense. He didn't have time to process the situation—he just saw Bateman turn and throw the ball in a straight line.

The ball sailed perfectly into Lance's waiting hands.

It was a fake pass-run!

Alabama had executed a flawless fake pass-run on third-and-eight, gambling on this bold strategy.

Had Ferrell not been watching Lance so closely…

But there was no "if" now.

Ferrell was already charging toward Lance, laser-focused on bringing him down.

Closer.

Closer.

Ferrell's muscles tightened in anticipation, remembering the moment when Lance had barreled through O'Daniel with a powerful spin move. He wasn't about to make the same mistake again. This time, he stayed calm, watching Lance's feet and monitoring his center of gravity.

Here it comes!

As Lance approached, Ferrell grinned, ready to pounce. But then—

Lance feinted.

A ghostly blur passed before Ferrell's eyes.

And just like that, Lance stopped, almost as if time itself had frozen. Ferrell, unable to halt his momentum, flew past him.

Ferrell: ???