Robinson was a towering figure, standing at nearly 6'6" and weighing 320 pounds (145 kilograms). He looked like a menacing figure straight out of the underworld, his grim face and massive frame so intimidating that children might cry if they saw him walking down the street at night. At this moment, his serious expression was even more terrifying.
But if you looked into his eyes, past the fierce exterior, you could see the passion and zeal burning for football.
"Brothers, everyone's watching us. Everyone wants to beat us because they fear us, because they're scared, because we are the strongest!"
"If they think we'll be easy to defeat, if they think we've become weak, they will pay for their stupidity."
"We are the Crimson Tide! We are the defending champions, not because we were born champions, but because we were born to fight for victory!"
Each word was powerful, resonating with conviction. Robinson's eyes burned with intensity, as if you could see the boiling blood coursing through his veins.
Then, after scanning the team, Robinson extended his right hand and placed it in the center.
"On three!"
One hand, then another. All eleven players piled their hands together. Robinson's voice rang out:
"Crimson!"
"Tide!"
A call and response echoed three times. With each chant of "Tide," arms shot into the air, and the Crimson Tide players roared to the sky, turning to march toward the 25-yard line.
The Trojans' special teams had already completed the kickoff, a conservative and steady start with no surprises. The Crimson Tide would begin their offense from their own 25-yard line.
Phew.
Hurts let out a long breath. He was slightly nervous. Instinctively, he glanced to his side, where the one player who would be his best partner on the field stood: the running back.
Lance didn't seem nervous at all. In fact, he was eager, his eyes scanning the Trojans' defensive lineup.
Sensing Hurts' gaze, Lance turned to him with a smile. "How about it? Ready?"
Hurts instinctively wanted to deny it, but looking into Lance's eyes, he found himself telling the truth. "I'm not sure. God, I'm a little nervous."
After all, Hurts had been born in 1998 and was still just a kid who had graduated high school only months ago.
Lance's smile widened. "Nervous is good. It means you care, and you're excited. Just remember, the guys across from you are feeling the same way."
Hurts paused, then a smile crept onto his face.
Lance gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "And besides, you're not fighting alone."
With that, Lance turned his focus back to the field.
Hurts stood still for a moment, his shoulders straightening, his eyes growing clearer.
Lance wasn't looking off into the distance; he was studying the defense. As the coaches had explained before the game, the Trojans had a distinctive defensive style.
They weren't elite, and unlike Clemson, they didn't have standout players with first-round potential.
But football is a team sport. Through tactical formations, collective strength could change the course of a game.
As mentioned earlier, 90% of NFL and NCAA defenses used either a "4-3" or "3-4" formation. But USC Trojans fell into the other 10%—
A "5-2" formation.
The "5-2" was essentially a variation of the "4-3," featuring five defensive linemen and two linebackers. It sacrificed some coverage over the short passing zones to apply more pressure on the line and stop the run game by crowding the line of scrimmage.
On one hand, the five defensive linemen matched up against the offensive line, controlling the trenches.
On the other hand, this alignment wasn't just about stacking players on the line. The five defenders included one nose tackle, two defensive tackles, and two defensive ends, combining the pressure of a "4-3" defense with the run-stopping power of a "3-4."
Of course, there were drawbacks. The biggest weakness was defending short passes. With one fewer linebacker, the defensive setup often relied on individual players' abilities to cover the short pass.
USC had always been known for their offense, lacking a strong defensive tradition. Coach Helton, being an offensive coordinator by trade, was even less versed in defensive strategies. Frequent coaching changes in recent seasons had only added to the confusion.
Helton had chosen the "5-2" formation for a simple reason—
It was straightforward.
This defensive scheme was relatively fixed, with few tactical adjustments. It focused on pressuring the line and defending the run, without requiring too much complexity.
It also meant that the players didn't have to spend as much time practicing intricate plays, allowing them to build chemistry in basic strategies and leverage their numbers advantage.
Even if the opponent saw through their tactics, the Trojans could still rely on sheer numbers and teamwork to fight back, giving Helton more time to focus on offense.
It was a gamble, hoping to maintain a solid defense with rigid tactics, while winning games through offense.
Whether or not this gamble would pay off would only be known through the game.
For Helton, facing the Crimson Tide wasn't ideal, but it also wasn't the worst. Alabama's offense was relatively weak, heavily reliant on their running game. The "5-2" formation was well-suited to counter that. Without Derrick Henry, the Tide's biggest weapon, the Trojans might actually have a shot.
The only wild card was how Saban would respond.
Or, to be more precise, how Lance, Jacobs, and Clark—this entirely new running back committee—would perform.
A rookie, a high schooler, and a backup's backup. No one knew what to expect from this lineup.
But now, the answer was about to be revealed.
Lance felt a small spark of excitement.
A new season, a new lineup, and a new game. Both teams would stick to their strengths in the early phases to test their tactics and get a feel for the game's rhythm.
First down, 10 yards to go.
The Crimson Tide lined up in a classic shotgun formation, with Lance positioned behind Hurts. Although his view was partially blocked, he could still see the defensive formation clearly on both sides.
It was evident that the Trojans were loading up the line of scrimmage. Even their safeties had crept up, clearly showing they were focused on stopping the run and putting pressure on the quarterback.
The strategy was clear and direct.
For the young Hurts, reading the defense suddenly became much easier.
"Set, hut!"
Hurts' snap count echoed through the air. The entire Crimson Tide offensive line shifted to the right. The loud thud of helmets and pads colliding exploded across the field, and all eyes locked onto the right side of the field. The clash of power versus power sent waves of energy through the stadium.
It was like a grinder.
Bodies collided and tangled together, packed tight like sardines.
But then, out of the mess, a figure slipped through. Light on his feet, dancing gracefully through the chaos.
It was... wait, was that number 23?
What?
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