人妻体验按摩到忍不住哀求继续

While the Crimson Tide offensive line attracted a substantial amount of fire on the ground, Saban arranged a series of short-pass tactics to progressively penetrate the opposing defense—

Was the tactic original?

No. Saban’s passing tactics were always by the book.

Did the tactic work?

Yes.

That was already enough.

Alternating between passing and running plays, Saban’s abundant experience and astuteness once again showed their edge, consuming a total of eight minutes and thirty-seven seconds, finally scoring a touchdown in the red zone facing a third and three—

A play-action pass.

Beteman pretended to hand off the football to Li Wei, who drew the defense in, but then turned and found the tight end Hentges.

Hentges, with his back to the end zone, caught the ball and after securing it, encountered a tackle; yet, he used his physical advantage to barrel into the end zone.

Touchdown, secured!

After the extra point was successfully scored, "14:21".

The home team, Crimson Tide Storm, further closed the gap in the score, now just one touchdown away, and Bryant Denny Stadium erupted with incredible energy.

"Roar!"

"Roar!"

Although this was just a warm-up game, unrelated to winning or losing; considering the history of both teams and their clash at the national championship final earlier this year, everyone from the players to the fans exploded with incredible enthusiasm, wholeheartedly engaging in the game, no less intense than in official matches.

The Tigers, too, were no exception.

Whoosh.

Suddenly, one of the "Black-faced Yamas," Dexter Lawrence stood up. Compared to players like Watkins and Wilkins, the high schooler Lawrence was still full of youthful zeal—

Ready at all times to prove himself, never missing an opportunity.

Moreover, with Lawrence and another high schooler, number ninety-nine Farrell, competing within the team, seeing Farrell fall short of the coach’s expectations sparked Lawrence’s excitement as he intently looked towards the coach.

Would they just let it go?

That number twenty-three is a fool, that quarterback can only make short passes, and Crimson Tide Storm’s offensive tactics are just the same old routine. If Farrell can’t hold up, shouldn’t they let him play and see what he can do?

Watkins and Wilkins did not stop Lawrence; in fact, they wanted to see the coach’s attitude—

They didn’t like the Crimson Tide Storm.

If they had to choose, they still preferred the Crimson Tide Storm they had dominated and mercilessly ground into the dirt in the first half, even though this was a warm-up game. Watkins and Wilkins hadn’t forgotten the bitterness of losing the national championship earlier this year. Weren’t they supposed to reclaim their honor, to seek perfect revenge?

Sweeney was also hesitant.

A warm-up game had its tactical significance. Should he really disrupt the plan just for a win in a warm-up game? Or should he continue to trust his players, given that the new season couldn’t rely on only one lineup?

Thoughts circulated in his mind.

Turning around, Sweeney saw Watson, still arms crossed and leaning against the chair back. Though his expression was stern, no longer carefree as before, he at least remained calm, not panicking because of the current situation.

Sweeney also calmed down—

It was all because of that number twenty-three running back, The Terminator, who had come out of nowhere, completely unmentioned in their scouting report, throwing off their plans.

Damn it.

But they shouldn’t disrupt their own formation; they still needed to follow the plan.

So.

Sweeney didn’t heed Lawrence’s look but reestablished his strategy—

Since the third quarter was nearing its end, it was now the Tigers’ opportunity to attack. They should keep cool and steadily advance through positional battles, securing ball possession while consuming time.

If they could score a touchdown last, the advantage in winning still lay with the Tigers.

Sweeney regained his resolve, waved his hand grandly, signaling the offensive group to take the field.

Sure enough, this attack became more detailed and enriched under Sweeney’s tactics, tangling with the Crimson Tide Storm’s defensive group in a battle of positions.

Seven minutes and forty-five seconds.

This wave of offense spanned from the third to the fourth quarter, dominated by short passes and running plays. The Tigers retaliated in the same way the Crimson Tide Storm had attacked, stabilizing their footing before showcasing their depth, which had kept them entangled with the Crimson Tide till the finals of last year’s nationwide championship.

Unfortunately, they didn’t score a touchdown.

The Crimson Tide Storm’s defensive group performed crucial red zone defense, intercepting the opponents just seven yards from the end zone. Still, the Tigers steadily earned a field goal.

The second half opened.

"24:14."

The gap in the score widened again, and with most of the fourth quarter already ticked away, it pushed the Crimson Tide Storm into a challenging position.

Watson, once again settled, resumed joking with his teammates.

Watkins and Wilkins regained their composure, with only Lawrence still eager, trying to prove himself in such a game.

The balance of victory subtly tilted toward the Tigers. Although slight, the change in situation had indeed altered the mood; one could feel a tragic pressure settling on their shoulders when the Crimson Tide Storm’s offensive group took the field again.

Li Wei felt it too.

Although it wasn’t an official match, the exhilaration of victory and defeat filled his heart. Unlike cross-country running, unlike mixed martial arts, a burden of united resolve heavily descended, tensing people up while also invigorating them.

This was his first time.

Both the Crimson Tide Storm and the Tigers felt it; the first gear of offense sparked flames—

Roar!

Farrell entered like a sumo wrestler, moving his feet while squatting down as if entering the ring, using such celebration moves to taunt the Crimson Tide Storm’s offensive group.

"Sorry."

On the offensive line, right tackle Lester Cotton offered his right hand to Li Wei, his face full of remorse.

Just then, Cotton hadn’t secured his position and was instantly broken through by Farrell, such that as soon as Li Wei caught the football from Beteman, he was faced with Farrell’s tackle and went down without any chance to move.

It was very awkward.

Cotton knew it was entirely his fault, and he needed to take full responsibility.

Li Wei caught Cotton’s right hand, pulling himself up, then patted Cotton on the shoulder, "Good effort, just don’t make the same mistake next time."

With a joke, Cotton touched his helmet.

Li Wei didn’t mind, even though Cotton’s failure to secure his position was an unacceptable error. What mattered more was that their offensive tactics had been anticipated by the opponent, with the Tigers’ defensive group taking the upper hand. That was the crux.

Moreover, in football, escaping impacts was impossible.

This recent impact left Li Wei tasting the metallic flavor of blood on his tongue—

It was a bit stimulating, a bit exhilarating.

Overpowering felt good, joyful, but crushing without a fight was too boring. Only the crushing and destruction after a contest were truly interesting.

Li Wei thought, it seems number ninety-nine was well-prepared then.