The coolest thing about sports? It's all about the unexpected, man. You got the underdogs taking down the big dogs, dark horses snagging championships, champs defending their titles, making history, and pulling off miracles. It's all about those "didn't see that coming" moments. You never know when they're gonna hit, how they're gonna hit, or who they're gonna hit.
But here's the deal: when the unexpected goes down, some folks are partying while others are crying in their beers. Tonight, the Trojans got to be the "lucky ones," but that luck was just the start of their trip to rock bottom.
Once the Trojans hit the field, Matt started moving the ball. They played it safe, sticking to running plays to burn the clock. But the UCLA Bruins' defense was like a brick wall, shutting down those runs and stopping them from getting the ten yards they needed or wasting any game time. So, they had to mix it up with some passing.
First time around, Matt nailed a third-down play, getting them ten yards and up to their own thirty-yard line. Second time, the Bruins put up a fight. They only got three yards on the first two downs, so on the third down, Matt had to throw it.
And that's when the nightmare kicked in.
Rahim snagged Matt's thirteen-yard pass at the forty-five-yard line, flipping possession to the Bruins. The only tiny win for the Trojans? Rahim didn't get a return; he took a knee after the pick, so the Bruins started their drive at the Trojans' forty-five-yard line.
Forty-five yards ain't close enough for a field goal. To take the lead, the Bruins had to push forward. As long as the Bruins were on the attack, the Trojans still had a shot—a shot to pick it off, a shot to counter, a shot to take back control.
If the unexpected can happen once, it can happen again. Hope's still hanging in there.
But man, the Rose Bowl was a tale of two sides. Over where the USC fans were, it was all doom and gloom, folks holding their heads like they couldn't believe what just went down. On the UCLA side, it was a full-on party, people jumping and cheering, making the whole Rose Bowl shake.
Luke glanced at the game clock. The Trojans had chewed up enough time, leaving just thirty-three seconds. Each down takes forty seconds to prep, so thirty-three seconds ain't even enough for one down. But this was their shot, their chance to wrap it up right here!
No need for overtime; they could end it now!
The defensive guys rushed down, and Rahim stopped in front of Luke, panting and grinning, "Buddy, I set the stage for you. Now it's your turn!"
"Alright, let's get this show on the road!" Luke locked eyes with Rahim, gave him a thumbs-up, then grabbed his helmet and called his offensive crew back on the field.
Thirty-three seconds, what to do? The UCLA Bruins still had two timeouts, which meant if they went for a field goal, Luke could use one timeout and two passing plays to get into field goal range. The second timeout would be for setting up the kick. If they went for a touchdown, he could use both timeouts to get three passing plays to hit the end zone.
A million plays ran through his head. A no-huddle offense wouldn't cut it; they needed tactics, strategy, and a plan, down to the last second. What to do? How to play it?
Luke looked over at the coaching staff. Rick and the crew had wrapped up their huddle and started signaling to Luke, laying out the plan. Luke called his teammates over to relay the coach's orders. No time to second-guess; they got into position and prepped for the play.
It was a nail-biter, but Luke's mind was clear. It was like he had a 3D map of the field in his head. He saw where the defenders were, his offensive guys, even the cornerbacks patrolling the far end.
With steady breaths, Luke bent down. His mind was racing, and he rubbed his fingers, feeling the sweat—hot and rough. But he didn't dwell on it. He called the play. After the center snapped the ball, he gripped it tight. The familiar feel of the football steadied his heartbeat, and all his moves were smooth and precise.
He took a step back, retreating fast, head up, eyes scanning for his receivers while keeping tabs on the defenders. No openings! None at all! All three receivers and the tight end were locked down tight. One-on-one coverage had them all stuck, and even the running lanes were clogged.
Time was ticking away, but Luke kept his cool. He widened his search, looking for Marcus, but it was too late. When Malik's familiar figure popped into view, Luke knew he was too slow.
A second of hesitation on the field feels like an eternity. The blitzers were closing in. No time for regrets. Luke tucked the ball into his chest and bolted left.
Faster, faster, he had to dodge Malik's tackle. Footwork and evasion weren't his strong suits—actually, they were his weak points—but right now, he was all about speed. His eyes kept scanning, tracking the players around him.
It felt like the world was spinning on a hamster wheel, and this hamster was anything but chill, running like crazy.
His steps weren't fast enough, still not fast enough. Luke felt he was at his limit, but he gritted his teeth and pushed harder, taking long strides, sprinting left. Even then, he caught a glimpse of Malik's twisted face in his peripheral vision. Not just Malik, another defender was closing in from the front, squeezing his space.
He had to make a move.
His eyes darted around, spotting a tiny window of opportunity. Just a small, fleeting window. Without hesitation, he swung his arm, putting all his strength into it. Like a firecracker, the football exploded from his grip and flew out.
One second, the ball was gone; the next, Malik had tackled Luke to the ground.
A hair's breadth! But Luke got the ball out at the last possible moment! Not just Malik, but two other players arrived right after. Seeing Luke down, they didn't rush in but watched the ball's flight. A bullet pass, not a rainbow!
The football traced a low arc, flying fast and hard. It wobbled a bit, clearly affected by Malik's interference, slightly off course. But it was fast and powerful, almost in the blink of an eye, heading towards the Trojans' end zone. Who was there?
John Ward!
John still had a defender on him, but when he saw Luke's throw, he kicked into high gear. John's strength was his speed, while the defender was bulkier. In that instant, John widened the gap. The defender tried to grab him, even thinking about a foul, but he was half a step too slow.
Maybe everyone thought Logan was still Luke's main target, not John. But no one expected Luke to go for the end zone on his first pass! Going for a touchdown!
John felt a surge of energy, the grueling training of the past five months paying off. He felt like he was back in high school, flying. His speed kept increasing, running with abandon, ignoring the defender. His eyes locked on the football, nothing else mattered.
The ball wobbled, its speed dropping, its path getting shaky. The accuracy was off, not quite where John expected. But he stayed focused. He kept his eyes on the ball, stretched out his hands, extended his arms, pushing his body to the limit. Like an arrow from a bow, he launched himself forward.
Closer, closer, got it! He got it! His hands clamped onto the football, pulling it into his chest. He landed on his shoulder, rolling forward smoothly!
The whole stadium held its breath, then the ref's whistle cut through the air, "Touchdown!"