Chapter 50: The Edge Runner
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"Damn! Damn, damn, damn!"
After missing the tackle, Lawrence lost his balance, gravity pulling him down. Shame and rage clashed in his mind, burning intensely, but all of it soon transformed into bitter frustration. He gritted his teeth, forcing his body into a counterclockwise spin, like in Inception when gravity shifts, fighting desperately to stay upright.
His hands slammed against the ground, determined and fierce, as he lunged toward Lance one last time.
In this moment, Lawrence's talent and ability were on full display. Despite falling backward, he managed to defy gravity using sheer core strength, almost like Michael Jordan hanging in the air. Incredibly, he made a second attempt, hoping to catch Lance off guard and swipe at him.
Contact!
Lance felt a sudden, heavy impact on his left shoulder, catching him off guard. He thought he'd already left Lawrence behind, but Lawrence had one final move. The potential first-round pick made his presence known in that instant, disrupting Lance's balance and forcing his left shoulder down like an anchor.
Knees bent, body lowered, and pressure absorbed.
Lance didn't resist. Instead, he leaned into the momentum, lowering his center of gravity to absorb the blow, using a crouch to keep moving forward and quickly shaking off the impact.
Lawrence: "Damn it!"
So, is that all a first-round pick's got? Just this?
Lawrence's desperate effort failed to stop Lance. But in football, it's never just about one player. The Tigers' defense had more than just Lawrence. Lance quickly put Lawrence behind him—
Thanks, next!
Before Lance could even straighten his knees, he spotted two more players coming at him from the left—
A linebacker and a defensive lineman.
His quick glance told him that the fearsome Wilkins, one of the Tigers' feared "Black Reapers," was among them, baring his teeth in determination. Wilkins was looking for revenge, ready to teach the upstart number 23 a lesson. But instead of punishing Lance, Wilkins had been humiliated, failing to even touch him so far.
Frustrated, Wilkins chased after Lance, leaping toward him in a desperate dive, his eyes fixed only on one target.
In that split second, Lance read the situation clearly. He noticed Wilkins crowding the linebacker's path—
Collision course.
Facing two defenders, Lance could use this to his advantage.
Lowering his shoulder, Lance moved slightly back, shifting to the right side of Wilkins just enough to use Wilkins' body to block the linebacker's approach. He could feel the gust of wind as Wilkins' towering figure hit the ground behind him, as if the giant's fall had created an invisible force propelling him forward.
Knees, like springs—
Straightened.
Pushed off the ground.
Momentum.
And Lance was off again, charging forward toward Wilkins, but just before their collision, Lance's eyes narrowed, and he made a subtle shift.
In a blink, his body moved right, deftly dodging Wilkins.
Their eyes locked for a moment, and Lance could clearly see the anger and disbelief on Wilkins' face as the defensive lineman ground his teeth in frustration, powerless to stop him.
Lance passed Wilkins by, close enough to touch yet completely untouchable—
Thanks, onto the next.
But it wasn't over yet.
Lance's feet, in sync with his body's motion, glided to the right in a smooth, effortless movement, as the linebacker behind Wilkins found his arms blocked. The linebacker lunged desperately but couldn't reach Lance, forced off course by Wilkins.
Three steps—three small, quick steps. In just two yards on either side of the line of scrimmage, Lance had evaded four tackles, weaving through narrow gaps. His feet carried him diagonally to the right, cutting through—
Thanks, anyone else?
Blake Ledger was in shock. He couldn't believe Lance's nimble and graceful moves in such a confined space, maintaining his balance and maneuvering through tackles. It was as if Lance had carved out a path of his own through sheer force of will.
Tacklers fell behind him one by one, but Lance's journey wasn't over. Blake Ledger couldn't tear his eyes away—
One step. Knees straight.
Another step. Pushing off the ground.
Lance's focus remained sharp.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see an arm flailing behind him, like seaweed drifting in the current. But Lance had already made his move, surging ahead just in time.
The 20-yard line was now within reach.
The end zone didn't seem far away either.
Each step forward, Lance gained speed, while still scanning for threats. More than the defenders closing in from the left, it was the safety, Muse, directly in front of him, that posed the real danger.
Muse was already moving, taking the initiative before Lance could fully accelerate. He positioned himself on Lance's left side, cutting off his path forward and preparing to block him.
Lance was trapped—
To his left, a wall of defenders. He could see at least three players converging to form a circle around him.
To his right, the sideline loomed, dangerously close. One wrong step and he'd be out of bounds.
It was nearly impossible. No space to accelerate, surrounded on all sides, with Muse closing in fast.
Muse aimed for Lance's left shoulder.
Clearly, Muse planned to tackle Lance from the left. Even if Lance broke free, the safety would use his body to force Lance out of bounds.
Clever. Smart.
Lance held his breath, fully focused. He shifted ever so slightly to the right, just enough to dodge, but not fully settled when his shoulder met Muse's.
Wham!
The impact reverberated, as Muse reached out to wrap Lance up, only to grab nothing but air. Lance spun effortlessly in a graceful pirouette, using the force of the collision to execute a stunning counter-rotation. He twisted away from the tackle, slipping free as Muse lost his footing and tumbled forward.
"Whoa!"
Blake Ledger gasped. But before he could catch his breath, he heard Pash next to him do the same. Both commentators couldn't hold back their excitement.
"He dodged him!"
"I can't believe it!"
"He really dodged him! Crimson Tide's number 23 just slipped past Muse's sure tackle. He was on the verge of losing his balance, almost toppling over, but the Crimson Tide secured the first down. And now, this running back is pushing toward the 15-yard line!"
"Wait, wait, hold on!"
"Number 23, number 23 is still going, still fighting for balance. He's skirting the sideline, somehow maintaining his footing, showing acrobatic balance as he edges along the sideline, continuing to sprint! This isn't the first time—Tigers' left-side defense has been breached again by number 23, who's moving like...like..."
Pash was momentarily at a loss.
Blake Ledger couldn't help but jump in, shouting, "An edge runner!"
Pash's eyes lit up, "An edge runner!"
"He's like an edge runner, dancing on the fine line between danger and disaster. Elegant yet deadly, slicing right through the Tigers' defense!"
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