The timeout ended, and both teams jogged back onto the field.
The Jets lined up in an I-formation—fullback in front of quarterback Weylin Paul, halfback behind him.
It was a classic power run setup. Deep in the red zone, space was tight, making a passing play riskier. This was smashmouth football territory.
The Colts recognized it instantly and adjusted their defensive front.
Zhao Dong, still lined up at tight end on the right side, eyed the man across from him—the Colts' strong-side linebacker. One clean hit, and Zhao could open the gate into the red zone.
"Set… hut!"
The snap came, and the trenches erupted.
Bang!
Zhao Dong blew his man off the line—again. The linebacker stumbled to the turf, arms flailing in frustration. He'd been on the wrong side of this matchup all afternoon.
But the Colts weren't caught off guard this time. As Zhao stepped into the red zone, both the middle linebacker and the right-side cornerback closed in fast.
Just as the corner pounced, Jets wideout Tom Hanks—lined up opposite him—cut sharply into the red zone and streaked toward the end zone.
"Not good!" Chernow's voice cracked in the commentary booth.
Swoosh!
Weylin Paul rifled a mid-range pass. The ball arced toward Hanks, who had broken free just ten yards from the goal line. If he made the grab, it was either six points or at worst a fresh set of downs.
No cornerback in sight—only the deep safety stood between Hanks and the end zone.
Snap!
The ball hit Hanks' hands—
—but the safety's hit landed the same instant. The ball popped loose, bouncing forward as Hanks hit the turf.
The stadium exploded with noise.
---
There are two types of drops in football.
The first: the receiver never secures the ball, or loses it within the first three steps—ruled an incomplete pass. The ball's dead when it hits the ground unless someone catches it midair.
The second: the receiver establishes possession—three steps or more—before losing it. That's a live fumble. The defense can scoop it and run.
This was the latter. Hanks had control for long enough. The ball was live, and the Colts swarmed.
---
"Damn it!" Zhao Dong had just shed the middle linebacker and corner, only to see the loose ball. He took off toward the pile.
Hanks was still scrambling to get up when a Colts cornerback pounced on the ball.
Instantly, a wall of Colts formed in front of him, shielding him from the Jets' defenders and giving him room to advance.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Jets players crashed into the wall, desperate to stop the return.
Zhao Dong smashed through a gap, opening a lane for his teammates to close in.
Three strides later, he met a Colts defensive lineman head-on.
Boom!
The collision was violent enough to draw a collective gasp. The lineman, easily 330 pounds, staggered back two steps under the impact—but didn't go down.
Zhao also had to plant hard to keep his balance, chest heaving from the force of the hit.
But the play wasn't dead yet. The Colts' corner, sensing trouble, flipped the ball backward to a trailing safety.
The safety backpedaled, scanning downfield, looking for an open man.
Two linebackers peeled away from blocking duty, sprinting forward with glances over their shoulders—ready to receive a lateral.
This was uncharted territory for the Colts' defense. Without offensive skill players, their return game lacked explosiveness. They could only rely on brute force and short-yardage gains.
The turnover had given them the ball—but the danger wasn't over. Misfire here, and even if they kept possession, they'd be trapped deep in their own red zone. A pick or forced fumble this close would be disastrous.
In the stands, Colts fans leaned forward in silence, eyes locked on the safety.
An untrained passer in a high-pressure moment—he gripped the ball tighter.
Zhao Dong, chest pounding, was cutting through bodies, locking in on the safety. Step by step, he was closing the gap.
Bang!
Zhao Dong took a crushing hit from a 160-kilogram defensive tackle. His body lurched sideways, momentum carrying him diagonally forward as his balance faltered.
Damn it!
He dug his cleats hard into the turf, forcing his body upright to regain his center of gravity.
At that moment, the Colts' safety spotted a linebacker slipping into open space and rifled a quick pass.
By sheer coincidence, Zhao Dong's tilted path took him straight into the passing lane.
Had he not been bumped, the safety's throw would have sailed past him, unreachable. But now—
The moment the ball left the safety's hand, Zhao Dong reacted. He launched himself upward, massive arms stretching high, and snatched the ball out of the air with a violent swat.
---
The roar of 60,000 erupted into a wave of shock and groans.
"Ohhh!"
"Intercepted! Are you kidding me?!"
"Picked at the 12-yard line?!"
From players to fans to the commentary booth, the Colts were stunned.
"TACKLE HIM!" Ziegler's voice cracked, his eyes bloodshot as he shouted into the mic.
No one needed the reminder. Every Colts defender within reach sprinted toward Zhao Dong.
Still airborne, Zhao Dong made a quick decision—pass the ball. He knew the second his feet hit the turf, he'd be buried under a pile of defenders. Running it himself wasn't an option.
The perfect target was right there—Tom Hanks, the Jets wide receiver who had just fumbled earlier. He was 13 yards from the end zone, slightly farther than Zhao Dong, but with no defenders in sight. Every Colt was below Zhao's position on the field.
Before landing, Zhao fired a one-handed lateral toward Hanks.
Bang!
The instant Zhao Dong hit the turf, three massive defenders crashed into him. His helmet jerked, his head slammed into the grass, and for a split second, the world spun.
If he hadn't gotten rid of the ball, they would have driven him into the ground midair—a dangerous hit even for someone as tough as him. Even with his durability, the impact left him dizzy.
The collision was violent enough that, without his resilience, it could have caused serious head trauma. He knew well—many retired NFL players suffered chronic brain injuries, some driven to dark ends by the pain.
---
Meanwhile, Hanks was locked in. As soon as Zhao Dong picked off the pass, he'd been ready.
The lateral came in hot, but Hanks was prepared—hands together, clean catch. This time, no mistakes.
The moment the ball stuck, he turned upfield and bolted toward the end zone. The nearest defender was three yards away—too far to catch him in time.
"It's over!" someone shouted in the stands.
Bang!
Hanks crossed the goal line, spiking the ball hard into the turf—a redemption touchdown.
The Jets sideline erupted.
"YEAH!"
"OHHH!" Hanks roared, pure emotion spilling out, before his teammates swarmed and tackled him in celebration.
---
In the booth, Ziegler was on his feet.
"Incredible interception! Incredible lateral! Incredible finish! The New York Jets just delivered an all-time highlight!
"Tyrannosaurus—Zhao Dong—showed elite two-way dominance on that play. When I say he can hold his own in the NFL, I don't just mean earning a contract or starting a few games. I mean making a name for himself—like he did in the NBA.
"To be honest, I didn't believe I'd ever say this about a crossover athlete. But now? The guy's a sports phenomenon."
Chernow's voice was tight with frustration. "Terrible start tonight for us. We fought hard for that takeaway, only for Tyrannosaurus to snatch it right back. A counter-touchdown off a steal like that—it's a gut punch. I just hope our guys don't lose their edge."
Ziegler let out a bitter laugh. "You can't coach against that jump. A man his size with that kind of vertical, plus those arms—he's built to pick passes out of the air. Our guys weren't ready for it."
"Now it's 13–0," he added, "and the Jets still have the extra point to come. This could get ugly fast."
Chernow rallied. "It's early. We've got Peyton Manning—two, three touchdown passes from him, and we're right back in it."
"Yeah," Ziegler agreed. "We need a strong counterattack."
---
The Jets' celebration wound down as the offense cleared the field and the special teams came on for the extra point.
On the bench, Edward had Zhao Dong seated, insisting the team doctor check him for a possible head injury.
As a veteran NFL man, Edward knew the risks. Head trauma was no joke. Honestly, he didn't even want Zhao Dong playing in this game, but his talent was too valuable. Still, he wasn't going to treat him like just another player—his situation was unique.
Zhao Dong didn't know what was running through Edward mind. For now, he was content to rest and get back in later.
Jets kicker Hans Clingham drilled the extra point. 14–0.
No one on the Jets sideline was celebrating too early. Peyton Manning could erase a two-touchdown lead in minutes.
Next series, the Colts' offense took the field. The Jets' defense lined up. Zhao Dong stayed on the bench, helmet in hand, waiting for his next call.
(End of chapter)
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