Focused. Patient. Like a seasoned hunter.
All the offseason practice, thousands of repetitions using the training template, had forged a steady and composed execution under pressure. What looked like a close call was in fact total control.
And he hadn't even exerted much energy yet. With barely any effort, Lance had just slipped past Heyward—and now, the field ahead opened wide.
Instantly, TJ Watt appeared in Lance's line of sight—steady, explosive, poised. His muscles taut, his presence undeniable.
TJ, like Lance, was entering his sophomore season. A year of growth had brought him to the brink of top-tier linebacker status—
Calm.
A quick scan of the field, three measured steps, and a perfectly timed launch.
Lance had just disengaged from Heyward, his feet not yet planted, when the next wave of pressure hit—TJ closing in fast.
Perfect.
Lance didn't panic. Muscles snapped taut. In a flash, he responded.
No evasion. No hesitation. No fear. He surged forward—
Head-on.
Exactly as he had planned. "Pause, look, and go." Just pausing wasn't enough—Lance showed his knack for second-level defensive reads, a skill usually reserved for quarterbacks, but now shining through a running back.
He stepped in. Bent knees. Lowered shoulders.
It looked like he was bracing for a clash.
So did TJ.
Breath deep. Muscles flexed. Shoulders squared.
But then—
Lance veered to his front-left with a twist, narrowly slipping TJ's direct hit. A maneuver eerily similar to what he had used against Heyward just moments earlier.
Twice in a row, he evaded with the same signature technique.
Too fast to process.
But TJ wasn't Heyward—quicker, more agile, and alert. He remained wary of Lance's tricks, reacting immediately with extended arms—tackle, disrupt, push.
Three reactions became four. His body was pushed to the limit.
"God!"
"A 360-degree clockwise spin—Lance spun like a ballerina to elegantly dodge TJ Watt's sure-fire second strike."
"Now we finally understand why Lance stood still earlier—it wasn't fear or overexcitement. It was all part of a calculated second read of the defense. He saw everything the Steelers' defense would do."
"And wait—this feels familiar..."
But there was no time to reflect—
Light-footed. Fluid.
Lance broke free from TJ with ease, now charging toward inside linebacker Vince Williams.
Williams: …
Wide-eyed. Dumbfounded.
He had no idea how Lance had slipped past Heyward, then TJ, and was now bearing down on him.
He wasn't ready.
Boom!
No time to react. Williams was steamrolled—tossed onto his back like a ragdoll.
…Dammit.
Only now did Lance encounter his first full-on collision. The earlier evasions seemed effortless but required intense energy in a very short time.
He needed to reset.
Using Williams' recoil, Lance angled diagonally to his front-right—redirecting momentum in stride.
Right then, cornerback Artie Burns charged from the front.
Just a moment ago, Burns had thought Lance was going to pass, tailing Kelce deep into coverage.
By the time Burns realized he was wrong, he'd already turned around—half a beat too late.
But this error turned into an opportunity. He had shaken off Kelce and now stood directly in Lance's path.
Right place, right time.
Burns prepared to hit.
He lowered into a tackle stance.
He assumed Lance must be spent—when he saw Lance switch the ball to his left arm and raise his right for a stiff arm, Burns thought it was desperation. He braced low for contact.
And then—
Thud.
The blow landed on Burns' right shoulder with startling power.
Ugh.
Burns grunted as Lance's arm exploded with force. The impact was so jarring, he could barely breathe. His vision spun as the world flipped upside down.
"Stiff arm!"
"Beautiful!"
"Wow! Lance knocks Burns down with one hand, barely slowing before continuing his run. What a display!"
"Clearly, someone didn't slack on strength training during the offseason."
"But wait!"
"Watt! TJ Watt hasn't given up—he's still chasing!"
"Watt dives!"
TJ refused to quit. He knew Lance couldn't be stopped one-on-one. If he didn't follow through, Lance could easily break through and head straight to the end zone.
He had to stop him.
Twist. Plant. Push.
Despite chaos and imbalance, TJ launched himself forward with blind instinct.
And then—he saw the red No. 23 jersey.
He couldn't wait. If Lance accelerated, it'd be over.
So he threw himself like a torpedo—
Push. Launch. Fly.
Wham.
He dove and latched onto Lance's leg in desperation.
Arm vs. calf.
It felt like plunging into a spinning propeller. But TJ didn't flinch.
Disrupt. Interfere. Destroy.
He hurled his body like a bowling ball.
Crash.
He and Lance tumbled together in a tangled heap.
"Watt! TJ Watt with the play!"
"After Lance blew past four defenders with dazzling moves, Watt's fearless pursuit brought him down, ending the run."
"Magnificent!"
"A huge shoutout to Watt—without him, Lance was two safeties away from the end zone. And that's his most dangerous territory."
"Still!"
"Lance gained an easy 10 yards and another first down for the Chiefs. The reigning Offensive Player of the Year hasn't missed a beat this season."
"But wait—this feels familiar."
"Pause, look, go. In that run, Lance didn't rely on his usual speed or cuts. He slowed down, read the defense, and reacted—exactly the signature style of Steelers RB Le'Veon Bell."
"So—is it just a coincidence?"