Cold. Bone-chilling cold.
The game hadn't even started yet, and Lance had already unlocked a brand-new experience in his professional career.
Last season in the NCAA, all regular-season games were wrapped up before December, and the postseason was held in warm, sunny locations down south. There was never a need to worry about freezing temperatures or extreme weather conditions.
And beyond that—
For Lance, mixed martial arts events were almost always held indoors. Even cross-country running, which involved outdoor conditions, was scheduled in a way that avoided harsh winter conditions, with most races taking place between March and November.
In other words, competing outdoors in winter was an entirely new challenge.
Everything in his first NFL season had been a fresh experience.
Last month, the Chiefs played four games—three in Kansas City and one in Miami—giving Lance a light taste of winter football. But stepping onto the frozen turf of Foxborough in the playoffs was something else entirely.
At a glance, the temperature didn't seem too intimidating. The sky was clear, with no heavy clouds in sight. But the moment he stepped onto the field, goosebumps erupted across his skin as an icy wave crashed over his body. The cold seeped into every pore, sending a sharp, stinging sensation through him—
Even during warmups, he could tell tonight's game in Foxborough was going to be brutal.
And as it turned out, he was right.
——
"Danger! The pocket has collapsed again!"
"Van Noy! New England linebacker Kyle Van Noy is playing at an absolutely elite level tonight. He's a man possessed, tearing through the offensive line and breaking into the pocket like a wrecking ball!"
"Lance is trying to pick up the block, but Belichick clearly saw this coming—cornerback Malcolm Butler is blitzing from the edge! Lance is caught in no-man's land. He has to choose!"
"Lance vs. Butler!"
"Van Noy is charging at Smith!"
"Smith dodging—trying to escape—refusing to go down!"
"Ah!"
"Van Noy! Sack!"
"Wait! Fumble!"
"Oh my god! Smith was winding up for a pass when Van Noy hit him. His arm never got the throw off—the ball is loose!"
"Disaster!"
"Oh! Lance!"
"Brilliant play!"
"Lance shakes off Butler, dives on the ball, and recovers the fumble! Disaster averted for the Chiefs—Lance just saved them from a turnover!"
"But this is bad news. The Chiefs are in serious trouble right now."
Lance hit the ground, curling up like a shrimp, securing the football tightly against his chest. He stayed in that position until the sea of navy-blue jerseys finally cleared, and then a pair of white gloves reached down to pull him up—Smith.
His chest heaved violently, sucking in cold air like a furnace working overtime. His throat burned, a wave of nausea rising, but he forced it down. His gaze locked onto the Patriots' defense as they celebrated, his jaw tightening, his eyes flashing with something sharp.
Then, a deep breath.
He turned back to Smith, tossing the ball to the referee. "You good?"
Smith was gasping for air, his white away jersey now a chaotic mess of dirt and turf stains, completely unrecognizable. His helmet was drenched in sweat, and his flushed face was plastered with wet strands of hair, as if he had just been pulled out of a river.
He didn't have the energy to respond. He simply waved a hand at Lance.
This was a fight.
And right now, the Chiefs were losing.
All season long, the Patriots had remained a powerhouse. Their offense ranked second in the league, their defense ranked fifth—balanced, efficient, dominant. Once again, they had established themselves as the team to beat.
However—
Just as Lawson had predicted on "Inside the League," much like the first Wild Card game, defense was taking over.
On paper, the Patriots' defense wasn't elite. Their pass defense ranked 30th in the league—third-worst. Their run defense ranked 20th—below average. So how did they manage a top-five overall defensive ranking?
The answer: situational efficiency.
Much like last season's Chiefs, the Patriots' defense knew when to show up. Their red-zone defense ranked fifth in the league, and their per-play defensive efficiency ranked fourth.
They weren't perfect, but when it mattered most, they delivered.
The Chiefs knew this would be a slugfest.
But the reality was even tougher than expected.
Belichick had clearly studied every game the Chiefs played against the Patriots, Steelers, Raiders, and Titans this season.
These games followed a clear pattern.
Except for the Raiders game, the Chiefs had won all of them—but in each case, their offense had been stifled for long stretches before finally breaking through late.
For game-planning purposes, those games were more valuable than any of Kansas City's random losses.
Belichick had studied them inside and out, dissecting the common threads, pinpointing exactly how to slow down the Chiefs' attack.
Then, he struck first in his pregame chess match with Reid—
Blitz.
More specifically, pressure. Blitzing was just one part of the equation.
Blitzing aimed to sack the quarterback. But that was only a short-term tactic.
What Belichick implemented was a sustained pressure strategy—applying constant force at the line of scrimmage to disrupt both the passing and running game.
Pressure made everything harder.
And if pressure led to sacks or tackles for loss? Even better.
The Patriots weren't known for their pass rush. All season, their blitz rate had hovered around league average.
But tonight, Belichick turned up the heat.
And it completely exposed the Chiefs' offensive line.
——
Despite looking solid in the stats, the Chiefs' offensive line had a hidden flaw. Smith's passing stats had surged this season—not because he suddenly became a deep-ball specialist, but because he was getting the ball out faster than ever.
Kansas City relied on quick passes.
Smith had one of the lowest deep-pass attempt rates in the league. His efficient numbers weren't because of elite protection—it was because of fast decision-making.
Meanwhile, their big-play yardage mostly came from Tyreek Hill and Lance—
Not from deep passes, but from explosive after-the-catch runs.
Especially Lance.
As a rookie, he had already recorded nine rushes over 50 yards—the most in the league. His ability to break long runs was unmatched.
So what was the weak point?
The short passing game.
Or, more specifically—the first three seconds of each play.
If the Chiefs couldn't get the ball moving in those first three seconds, they were in trouble.
Belichick saw it.
So he cranked up the pressure.
Not just blitzing.
Blitzing aimed for sacks. Pressure aimed to suffocate.
And it was working.
——
Before the second quarter even ended, the Patriots had already sacked Smith six times.
Six. Times.
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Powerstones?
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