American Football: Domination

Here's the scenario: your team is ahead, holding possession, and there are only 63 seconds left in the game. What's the strategy?

Ask any football fan, and the answer will be the same: run the ball. Run the ball. Run the ball.

The goal is simple: use ground plays to drain the clock.

And the Kansas City Chiefs? They're in a prime position. Starting this crucial drive on the Patriots' 43-yard line, they're perfectly poised.

If they can gain enough yards across three downs, they'll be in field goal range to seal the game.If they can't, they'll still burn as much time as possible, forcing the Patriots into a last-ditch effort.

Could something go wrong?

Absolutely.

There are several potential pitfalls:

New England's Timeouts

If the Patriots use all their timeouts effectively, they might force Kansas City into a fourth-down punt, leaving time on the clock for Tom Brady to take one last shot at the end zone.

Enter the Hail Mary.

Originating from Notre Dame's Catholic roots, the term gained NFL fame in 1975 when Dallas Cowboys quarterback Roger Staubach credited his game-winning deep throw to the Virgin Mary, silently praying as he released the ball.

A Hail Mary is a high-risk, high-reward pass, typically exceeding 40 yards, aimed at the end zone. Defenses can easily counter it by flooding the area with defenders, making successful completions extremely rare.

Still, rare doesn't mean impossible. Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers is nicknamed the "King of the Hail Mary" for his uncanny ability to pull off these miracles.

Brady, though? It's not his specialty.

But given the stakes, if Brady gets one last chance, even a Hail Mary would be on the table.

A Kansas City Fumble

If the Chiefs fumble the ball during a run, the Patriots could recover it, possibly returning it for a touchdown or at least giving Brady another chance to pull off a miracle.

In sports, the unexpected can happen.

Even with 99% control of the game, the Chiefs couldn't afford to ignore that lingering 1% possibility.

"Fumble!" "Fumble!"

At Gillette Stadium, the crowd roared with desperation, eyes locked on Lance.

Even Brady, despite his frustration, couldn't help but glance toward the field, his gaze zeroing in on the No. 23 jersey.

First Down: Run. Bill Belichick used his first timeout.

Second Down: Run. Belichick used his second timeout.

Third Down: Run. Belichick used his final timeout.

Everything unfolded methodically. No surprises. Lance held the ball securely each time, denying New England their miracle.

Fourth and Two.

The clock read 20 seconds.

The Chiefs were just out of comfortable field goal range. Punting was safer, but it would give Brady's offense a sliver of time for a Hail Mary attempt.

Andy Reid didn't hesitate—he chose to go for it on fourth down. This was the moment that would decide the game.

The Patriots' defense, knowing the Chiefs would run the ball, braced themselves. They needed just one stop to give Brady his shot at redemption.

But if they failed? It was over.

The atmosphere at Gillette Stadium reached a fever pitch.

"Boo! Boo!"

The jeers rained down like a storm, blending with curses and insults hurled at the rookie running back. The hostility was palpable, every word a dagger aimed at Lance.

And then—a fumble?

For a brief, tantalizing moment, the crowd thought they saw it.

Even Brady shot to his feet, hope flickering in his eyes.

On the field, chaos erupted—a mass of bodies clashing in a frenzied struggle for dominance. For a second, Lance disappeared in the sea of blue jerseys.

But just as quickly, a white jersey emerged.

It was Lance.

He broke free from the scrum, his steps unsteady but determined. He accelerated, leaving defenders in his wake.

His No. 23 jersey fluttered in the wind as he sprinted, faster and faster, pulling further ahead of the Patriots' defense.

Brady's heart sank. He stood frozen, watching helplessly as the rookie dashed toward the end zone.

But Lance wasn't finished.

Instead of rushing into the end zone, he slowed his pace, staying just outside the goal line.

Why?

To burn more time. He weaved back and forth, evading defenders who lunged at him. Only when the clock approached zero did he step into the end zone, scoring a touchdown.

"What composure!"

The broadcasters were stunned.

"He knows the end zone isn't the goal—it's the clock. That's a level of awareness you don't see in most rookies, let alone one playing his first NFL game!"

Gillette Stadium fell silent, a hush descending over the crowd as the realization set in: it was over.

Final Score: 49–34.

The Kansas City Chiefs had done it. Against all odds, they defeated the defending champion New England Patriots in their home opener.

The season had begun with an emphatic statement.

This game didn't just mark the start of the 2017 NFL season—it marked the rise of a new star.

Lance.

The rookie running back's debut wasn't just impressive—it was unforgettable. In a league dominated by quarterbacks, his performance stole the spotlight, reminding everyone why running backs still matter.

Gillette Stadium had been humbled.

And as Lance walked off the field, his helmet in hand, the crowd could only watch in silence.

The message was clear: a new era might just be beginning.

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Powerstones?

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