Leigh Steinberg's right hand gripped the handle of his cane tightly, squeezing so hard that his knuckles turned white and his entire body trembled slightly.
The self-control he had developed over a lifeti in the business world kept his emotions in check, preventing panic from showing. But the feeling of suffocation spread over him like a rising lake, slowly consuming all the warmth in his body. It was as if he was watching himself get swallowed by a disaster, helpless to do anything. Fear and panic gripped his lungs and froze his mind.
Even after watching hundreds of gas, he still wasn't used to seeing a player take a heavy hit, or get hurt.
The reason Leigh had given up his career as a sports agent to focus on a single player was because of one specific athlete—a player who had suffered four concussions.
He rembered seeing the player, normally as strong as an ox and full of life, lying lifeless in a hospital bed, nearly paralyzed. But when faced with the player's wife and son, Leigh felt nothing. All he could think about was how many gas this concussion would cost, how much prize money he would lose, and how he should get the player into rehab so he could get back on the field.
Sadly, that player never returned to the field and almost lost his life.
Leigh could never forget the confused and worried look in the son's eyes as he asked, "Sir, will my dad be able to stand up again?"
Football is incredibly important, and winning is incredibly important. For so, it's their entire world. But in real life, beyond football and winning, beyond money and fa, there is more to life.
And so, Leigh changed, completely. He didn't want to answer the sa question from another child, and he didn't want to face another broken family. He had been on this path ever since.
In fact, Leigh hadn't watched a ga in person for years.
The players on the field were no longer just symbols of money, victory, and fa. They were real people with nas, lives, and souls. He could watch the gas on TV, but he couldn't stand the tense atmosphere of being at the stadium. As he got older, his heart got weaker, and his heart softened.
Ben Roethlisberger had grown up, and he was fine even if Leigh didn't go to the gas. But Lu Ke was a rookie, only twenty-two years old, and Leigh had to be there to watch over him. It was his responsibility and his duty.
He thought he was used to it, but he obviously wasn't.
"Lu Ke is standing up, the San Francisco 49ers' number fourteen is standing up..."
He heard the excited shouting of the comntator on the TV behind him and saw Lu Ke slowly getting up. Leigh's fingers suddenly loosened, and he let out a long breath. Oxygen returned to his lungs, causing a sharp pain in his chest. He was so emotional that he still couldn't stop his muscles from trembling.
"My God, he's a pleasant surprise, isn't he?" In the luxury suite, Jed York, the chairman of the San Francisco 49ers, said with a smile.
Leigh felt like he had just escaped a brush with death, but he didn't show it. He simply replied, "You can say that again."
At that mont, not only Leigh, Kirk, and Teddy in the broadcast booth, but also Chris, Jeff, Cliff, and the others in "Joe's Bar" were all shouting and cheering. They were all jumping, hugging, and high-fiving in relief, as if it was them who had just survived the hit, not Lu Ke.
"Go, Bambi!" Jeff roared frantically at the TV screen. "Go! Show them what you've got! Damn it! You're not going to be beaten that easily! Never!"
The overwhelming excitent was almost suffocating, but Jeff didn't care. He just kept roaring. Then it was Danny Reese, then Nate Chandler, then Cliff Hart and Chris Wilson. They were all cheering and shouting like survivors who had escaped with their lives.
"Bambi! Bambi! Bambi!"
Just a simple shout was enough to connect all of them as if they were a single entity, feeling the sa emotions and experiencing the sa ups and downs. They huddled together, jumping and cheering, as if they had already won the ga—or even more frantically than if they had. The cheerful sound resonated throughout the entire space, full of energy and joy.
Sitting in his seat, Jonathan Baldwin's emotions were also running high. He could clearly feel the intense and fierce joy, and the blood in his veins seed to be boiling. His eyes showed a hint of envy, and he was on the verge of losing control and standing up to join the celebration.
But at the last mont, he awkwardly held back. He glanced around at the other fans in the bar. They all avoided his gaze, feeling guilty, embarrassed, and even angry. It was truly a frustrating feeling.
Jonathan picked up his beer and took a big gulp. But the beer that was usually so refreshing now had a bitter taste.
At Lincoln Financial Field, even the Philadelphia Eagles fans let out a long sigh of relief. No one likes to see an injury, no one. When Lu Ke stood up, the fans began to applaud, cheering him on. They weren't mortal enemies, and there was no hatred between them. At that mont, they were all just pure football fans.
They were hoping for a victory, but not a victory won through an opponent's injury. They wanted a victory earned fairly. So, at that mont, they were applauding Lu Ke's toughness and showing their respect.
The sudden applause and cheers took Lu Ke by surprise. After standing up, he looked up and saw that the fans throughout the stadium were raising their hands, applauding in support. The navy blue ocean that had just been so intimidating was now showing a beautiful side.
Lu Ke couldn't help but let out a small laugh. He raised his hands and gave the fans a thumbs-up to show his gratitude. Then, he looked down again and began to check himself. Respect was one thing, but the ga was another. He would not go easy on them in the next play just because of their politeness.
The best way to respect your opponent is to give it your all and face them head-on.
Lu Ke jumped a few tis in place, stretched his arms, and then stretched his limbs. He did a few simple tests to check his body and muscles.
On the one hand, he needed to make a show for the audience. After such a fierce collision, even if he wasn't injured, he would have been affected to so extent. He wasn't so kind of crazy T-800 from "The Terminator." On the other hand, this was also a test of the effects of his special skill.
"Iron Skin and Bones" was the latest special skill Lu Ke had acquired.
Although the description seed powerful, this was the first ti he was actually using it, so everything was still a mystery. It seed that the effect was exactly as he had hoped.
The so-called Iron Skin and Bones would not cause any visible changes on the outside. Everything looked normal. After a violent collision, physics phenona like freefall and acceleration are still in play, and Lu Ke could feel all the changes. But the internal changes were very obvious. He felt nothing—no pain, no soreness, no impact.
This feeling was a bit strange. He had just seen the world turn upside down, but he wasn't even dizzy. It completely went against the laws of physics. His body felt a bit off, and his feet felt like he was standing on cotton. After jumping up and down a few tis, the effects of gravity beca clear.
He couldn't believe he had just gone through such a fierce collision, but his body felt nothing. He was still at one hundred percent, and he didn't even feel any muscle tension. From that perspective, the skill's effect was very satisfying.
After confirming that he was okay, Lu Ke finally noticed his teammates standing around him. They weren't huddled together. Logan and Marcus were the closest, while the others were a little further away, scattered in different positions.
With a quick glance, Lu Ke could see the five offensive linen.
Mike Lupati was getting angry at himself, cursing under his breath. Chilo Rachal's head was completely down, his helt touching his chest as if his neck was about to break. Joe Staley and Anthony Davis were exchanging glances, not saying a word, but clearly blaming each other. Finally, they both looked away, feeling both disheartened and frustrated.
The entire offense was filled with a sense of dejection. Worried eyes were looking at him, but when Lu Ke looked back, they would look away, unable to et his gaze.
The enthusiasm from the halfti locker room was completely gone now, as if it had all been a false pretense.
"Hey, guys!" Lu Ke shouted. "I'm fine. I'm great!" He then jumped a couple of tis and flexed his bicep to show that he was okay. But his teammates' spirits were still low. Even Logan and Marcus lowered their heads, avoiding eye contact with Lu Ke.
Lu Ke opened his mouth, ready to say sothing, but after thinking about it, he spoke into the built-in intercom in his helt. "Tiout, coach. I need a tiout."
So, Lu Ke had to ask the coaching staff for a tiout. He heard Brian Hampton's confused voice in his ear. "Why? There's no problem on the field. What's wrong? Was the play not communicated correctly?"
"I need a tiout!" Lu Ke said firmly. "Coach, I'm telling you, the team needs a tiout right now!"
"Bambi, you're not hurt, are you?" Jim Harbaugh asked worriedly.
"Jesus-freaking-Christ, no, I'm fine, but I need this tiout!" Lu Ke felt a surge of frustration but controlled himself and said firmly, "I'm serious."
"..." Jim thought for a mont, one second, two seconds. Then his voice ca through the headset. "Referee, tiout!"
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