The San Francisco 49ers' offense left the field, making way for their special teams teammates.
"Bambi." Jim Harbaugh called me over. I stopped and gave him a questioning look. My mind tightened a little, but then Jim gave me a thumbs-up. "Nice throw!" After the praise, he nodded and didn't say anything else, gesturing for me to leave.
I was a little stunned. I had thought Jim was worried about my right arm and might send in a backup quarterback—Alex Smith—to get him used to the game, especially with the team having a solid lead. But it was just a false alarm. Then, I smiled, nodded in acknowledgment, and turned to leave.
"Yeah! Man!"
"Good job!"
"Brilliant! So brilliant!"
"Nice!"
"Touchdown, touchdown, touchdown!"
Along the way, every player raised their right hand to high-five me. Even Vernon Davis, who couldn't play today, was no exception. He didn't say much, but he still stood in the crowd and gave me a high-five.
Later, more and more people came up to celebrate. Defensive players also came up. High-fives were no longer an option, so everyone enthusiastically patted me on the shoulders and back to congratulate me. I vaguely saw Alex Smith and Scott Tolzien in the crowd.
At least on the TV broadcast, the San Francisco 49ers looked like a happy, harmonious team.
Finally, I sat down on the sidelines. At this point, the special teams had completed the extra point kick. The score was "10:24." The San Francisco 49ers had once again widened the gap. At this point, there were still five minutes and twenty-one seconds left in the fourth quarter. There was still enough time for the Cincinnati Bengals, and it was all up to Andy Dalton's performance.
This "rookie quarterback showdown of number 14s" had truly entered a critical moment.
I looked past the crowd and kept my eyes on Dalton. We didn't have much interaction during the rookie training camp, just a passing acquaintance. Neither of us was a star quarterback in the camp, but who would have thought that now we would be competing against each other for our respective teams?
A figure walked past me, breaking my line of sight, and sat down next to me. I turned my head and saw Kip Christ's chubby, good-natured face. I gave him a confused look. "What, is there a special play?"
Kip had a beaming smile on his face, like a statue of the Buddha. "No, no. Your performance was excellent. Honestly, we couldn't ask for more."
Among the 49ers' coaching staff, Kip had always had a soft spot for me. Part of the reason was his relationship with Adam Klein, but a bigger reason was my hard work and dedication.
On the football field, there's no shortage of geniuses. But in fact, after entering the NFL, the performance of these geniuses is often not as good as expected. Instead, it's the solid players drafted in the third or fourth rounds who can adapt to the intensity and rhythm of the league's games more quickly.
The reason isn't complicated. These golden boys often have a smooth ride in the NCAA league and don't experience many setbacks. It seems like everything is handed to them on a silver platter because of their talent. Then, when they turn pro, even a small difficulty can discourage them. What's more, the difficulties in the NFL are far from "small." They're a head-on blow.
In the off-season training camp, senior players would work the rookie players hard and even play pranks on them. All the teams knew about it, but they never stopped it. Besides it being a team tradition, it was also a way to help the rookie players adapt to the intensity of the professional league as quickly as possible.
Of course, if those golden boys can grow and develop after going through some adversity, their potential is naturally limitless. Like Peyton Manning and Aaron Rodgers.
I was an undrafted rookie, and I was always down-to-earth, hardworking, and dedicated. After being called up to the team, I had a two-game winning streak, but I was still humble and focused on training. This trait had successfully earned Kip's trust. In the current quarterback competition on the team, Kip was my steadfast supporter.
Alex Smith was too steady, lacking passion and guts. Colin Kaepernick was too impatient, with the typical traits of the golden boys in college. And Scott Tolzien's strength was simply not enough. So, was I perfect? Of course not. My weaknesses were still very obvious, but I was indeed the best choice for the San Francisco 49ers right now.
This was Kip's thought process.
"Bambi, I just wanted to tell you that you're doing a great job. Trust me, your advantages are more obvious than you think. Don't push yourself too hard," Kip said without a clear beginning or end. Then he stood up and, with his beer belly, walked away nonchalantly.
I sat there, a little stunned. One sentence gave rise to countless possibilities, but before I could explore all of them, the players' assistant quickly came over—who was essentially a ball boy responsible for handing out towels and water bottles and packing up helmets.
"Bambi!" I turned my head and saw the ball boy's bright smile. "Uh, Kip told me to give you this." Then he handed me an ice pack and an elastic band to hold it in place.
All the questions were answered.
Kip had noticed the small issue with my right arm. For a quarterback coach, a quarterback's throwing motion and habits are deeply ingrained in their minds. If a problem arises, they're bound to be the first to notice it. As for those who are careless and don't notice the problem, that kind of quarterback coach would probably be fired soon, or the quarterback would get injured directly.
I chuckled, taking the ice pack. "Thank you, Thomas."
Thomas Robinson's smile couldn't be contained. He had just joined the team this season and had just graduated from high school. Almost no one on the team remembered his name. Everyone just called him "you" or "that guy."
But now, I remembered his name.
"No problem. It's my job," Thomas said with a laugh. "Do you need my help?" He stepped forward and gestured. After I gave him permission, he helped me place the ice pack on my biceps and held it in place with the elastic band. "Bambi, I mean, Lu Ke, that long pass was really beautiful."
"Thanks. You can call me Bambi. It's just a nickname," I said with a smile. "Also, can you get me the playbook, please? The one with the number four on the cover. Yes. Thanks." Then, I started to flip through the playbook. Until the game was over, I couldn't let my guard down.
On the field, the Cincinnati Bengals' offense and the San Francisco 49ers' defense were locked in a fierce battle. It was clear that Andy Dalton was now in full-on attack mode. His determination to close the gap was more sincere than ever.
There were still five minutes and twenty-one seconds left in the game. In theory, that was still enough time, but the difficulty was immense. The Cincinnati Bengals were now down by fourteen points, which meant they needed to score quickly, whether it was a field goal or a touchdown. They had to get points in a short amount of time to close the gap.
Then, through their defense, they needed to get the San Francisco 49ers' offense off the field with a three-and-out so that Dalton could get back on the field and have a chance to make a game-winning comeback.
It wasn't just about scoring, but scoring quickly. If this drive took too long, even if they scored, there wouldn't be much time left in the game, and the window for the Bengals would become smaller and smaller.
This sense of urgency kept pushing the Bengals' offense, tightening like a spring.
But haste makes waste. In the past eight plays, Dalton's passes were off-target once, a receiver fumbled the catch once, and the 49ers' defense deflected a pass once. The entire drive was a bumpy, disjointed mess. Not only did they lack momentum, but they were also getting more and more disorganized.
It wasn't that Dalton was playing badly. Objectively speaking, if it wasn't for Dalton's steadying presence, first by throwing a fourteen-yard medium pass to convert on third down, and then by escaping a sack to complete a six-yard short pass, bravely leading the team to keep going, the Bengals would have been out of the game by now.
But even so, the Bengals' offense was still in a complete mess and couldn't put together an effective drive. On third down and four yards, a receiver with butterfingers fumbled the ball. He caught it, but like a juggler, he kept tossing the ball up and down and finally couldn't hold onto it. The Bengals' drive sadly came to a sudden halt.
As the team's brain, the quarterback's role is crucial, but in a football game, without limbs or a body, with only a brain, a quarterback is still helpless and can only sigh in disappointment. Dalton stood on the field with his hands on his hips, his back looking lonely, and a sense of helplessness.
Butterfingers. Their drive ended with a fumble. It was truly frustrating. Dalton could blame the teammate for making a mistake at a crucial moment, but competitive sports aren't that simple.
The premise was that the San Francisco 49ers had burst forth with a powerful momentum in a tough confrontation, breaking through the Cincinnati Bengals' excellent defense. The result was that under pressure, the Cincinnati Bengals' offensive players made a mistake out of nervousness. No one wanted to see such a mistake. Not the quarterback, and not the wide receiver.
As a result, after two minutes and five seconds, and not even crossing midfield, the Bengals' offense was taken off the field.
The only good news was that there were still three minutes and sixteen seconds left in the game. If the Bengals' defense could step up and quickly stop the San Francisco 49ers' offense, then Dalton would still have a chance to redeem himself. Just like in an NBA basketball game, a comeback is still possible in the final seconds, and it's the same in a football game. Everything is possible.
It was in this situation that I took off the ice pack on my arm and led the team back onto the field, ready to seal the game!
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