Jeff's muscles were tight as a drum. Ever since number eleven nailed that first pass, he felt like he forgot how to breathe. His eyes were glued to the field, not even remembering to cheer or stress out, totally blanking on the other team.
His heart was climbing up his throat, ready to burst. But Jeff kept his eyes locked on the field and then saw the craziest moment of the night.
After the kickoff, number eleven started backpedaling like a madman, putting space between him and the offensive line. His steps were quick and steady, moving sideways and leading the whole team to the right. Marcus was right there with him, ready to grab the ball and bolt.
The offense kicked off so fast the defense didn't know what hit them. The whole defensive setup was a mess, no clue how to react. Blitz the quarterback? Stop Marcus from running wild? Defend against a pass? They were lost.
The Trojans' defense was running around like headless chickens, totally out of sync. They had no idea how to handle the Bruins' offense. Defense? Forget about it.
The defense was so bad it gave the offense all the time in the world. Number eleven had all the time to scope things out. But why was he hesitating?
Jeff couldn't figure it out. More importantly, he didn't have time to think. He was just a ball of nerves, so anxious his stomach was in knots. He clenched his fists, body tense, frozen in place. It felt like forever, but then number eleven finally made his move!
Jeff's eyes followed the football, climbing higher and higher, tracing a perfect arc. It hit its peak and started to drop, crossing the thirty-yard line, the twenty, the ten, and then—bam!—into the end zone.
Holy crap!
A super long pass straight to the end zone? Jeff's heart stopped. Time seemed to freeze. Was there anyone in the end zone?
Yep. John Ward.
The end zone was wide open. When Jeff spotted John, the Trojans' defense finally woke up, charging like wolves. But it was too late. The closest player was fifteen yards away. They could only watch as John caught the ball and stood still.
His feet were planted right in the end zone! Bullseye!
The whistle blew loud and clear. Jeff's jaw dropped, and he jumped up, "Touchdown! Touchdown!" He was so pumped he choked on his own spit and started coughing. But that didn't kill his buzz. He jumped around, waved his arms, and screamed, "Touchdown!"
Jeff hugged Nate, who was also going nuts, like they just won the game. They kept screaming, letting out all the excitement and joy.
The Rose Bowl went wild. UCLA fans were celebrating like crazy, not for the win, but for the offense finally coming alive. Even though less than a third of the fans were still there, their cheers were like rain after a drought, bringing the place back to life.
Trojans fans were stunned. Some didn't even know what happened, the touchdown was so quick. Some were pissed, yelling at their defense, trying to get them to wake up. Others started cheering, rallying for their team, still in the lead.
"Bambi! Bambi!" Marcus was the first to rush over to Luke, hugging him tight, full of joy. Before Luke could react, the other offensive linemen swarmed him, surrounding him. The roars, shouts, and cheers filled the air, pounding in Luke's ears, making the whole world seem loud and alive.
All the pent-up emotions from the game finally had a release.
"Chill out! Chill out!" UCLA Bruins' defensive captain Justin Edison sprinted onto the field, breaking up the huddle and giving Luke a solid pat on the shoulder. "Dude, awesome job! But the game's not over yet!"
Luke's head was buzzing with joy, but Justin's words snapped him back to reality. He took a deep breath, then another, reminding himself: A touchdown's great, but it's just the first step. Winning is the real deal!
"Alright, guys, let's clear the field and let our defense show their stuff." Luke punched Justin's shoulder playfully. "It's your turn now!"
Justin gave a thumbs-up. "Let's show 'em what we got!" The defense had been getting hammered all game, feeling pretty down. Now that the offense had sparked up, they couldn't slack off. They needed to step up and prove themselves.
Luke and his offensive crew left the field, watching as the defensive squad raised their right hands. Logan was the first to rush over, high-fiving everyone in sight. The dark cloud over the Bruins was finally lifting, and the excitement was back.
Marcus bumped Luke's shoulder with a grin, "Everyone's waiting for you, number eleven." With that, Marcus ran ahead, jumping and high-fiving each teammate. Luke followed, raising his left hand high, slapping palms with everyone, feeling the camaraderie and trust.
At the end of the line stood the three coaches and Anthony.
Rick looked at Luke, trying to keep a straight face. "You know you didn't follow the playbook out there, right? That's not cool."
In football, there can be up to 20,000 offensive plays. Even if the quarterback knows them all, it's impossible to pick the perfect one in a split second. The quarterback's not a computer; it takes a whole team.
In pro games, you've got head coaches and offensive coaches on the sidelines, plus teams in the skyboxes watching everything, analyzing each play, and reporting back to the head coach to come up with the best tactics.
In other words, every offensive play needs a quick chat between the coach and the quarterback.
But during the game, those split-second calls are all on the quarterback. Adjusting on the fly? That's their gig. Just like what happened a moment ago.
Everything went down so fast. Luke made the right call. Rick didn't even have time to huddle up and give directions before the offense was off to the races. Rick thought about stopping Luke, slowing things down, and tweaking the play, but he hesitated and kept quiet.
Turned out, that was the smart move.
But now, things were different. The quarterback needed to sync up with the coach. Football's not a solo act. It's not just the guys on the field duking it out. Rick needed this backup QB to get that.
Luke saw Rick's serious face and didn't argue. He nodded, showing he got the message.
Rick chuckled quietly, patted Luke's arm, and said, "Great job! Now, let's figure out our next move. Leave the rest to the defense!"
Sitting down on the bench, Luke noticed his fingers were trembling a bit. The delayed nerves and excitement finally hit him.
Thrown into the game, Luke had no time to think, no time to get hyped, no breathing room—just straight into the action. Nothing felt real.
It wasn't until now that Luke realized he had just played his first official NCAA game, as a semi-pro. And he nailed his first official touchdown pass.
His dream had finally come true.
Coming back to reality, Luke slowly clenched his fist. He loved that edge-of-your-seat feeling, almost suffocating. He loved controlling the game, the clash of two teams. His heartbeat was pounding in his ears, so intense he didn't want it to end. Just one taste, and he was hooked!
He looked up at the stands of the Rose Bowl. Even with a bunch of empty seats, it was still epic, like standing at the center of the universe, feeling the heat of the spotlight. Everything was so intoxicating! He couldn't wait to get back out there and start the next offensive!