American Football: King of the Bay Area

Scalding sweat trickled down his skin as boiling blood surged through his veins. Every pore on his body seemed to open, steaming as if he were in a sauna. The beat of his heart hammered against his eardrums like the clamor of battle, his muscles tensed to their absolute limit, coiled and ready to spring.

Lu Ke’s hands rested loosely in front of him. His left foot supported his weight, while his right was in a lunge, toes gripping the turf, all power focused in his calf. Through his helmet, his eyes were locked on number forty-four in the dark blue uniform diagonally ahead—the opposing team’s quarterback. His target. He was so focused that he couldn’t see any other players in his periphery; his gaze was fixed on that single figure.

”Hut!”

The quarterback shouted the command. The center snapped the ball, the quarterback caught it, dropped back, scanned the field, and prepared to throw.

The instant the sound hit his ears, Lu Ke’s right foot exploded off the ground like a spring. He lowered his head and charged. The other defensive players seemed to completely ignore him as he took a small, looping path, his feet churning. He moved through them as if they weren’t there, and in just five or six steps, he burst in front of the quarterback.

Lu Ke had no intention of slowing down. He lowered his right shoulder and, like a runaway freight train, slammed violently into the quarterback’s chest. At the same instant, his arms wrapped securely around the quarterback’s waist, and he drove him viciously into the ground.

The quarterback folded like a rag doll, offering no resistance as he was pinned to the ground, every muscle in his body screaming in protest.

TWEET. The whistle blew, signaling the end of the down. The quarterback was sacked.

Lu Ke got to his feet. Sweat dripped into his eyes, but before he could wipe them, Kevin Price, who was now in front of him, became like an enraged bull. He slammed the football he was holding at Lu Ke’s head, roaring, ”Goddamn mongrel, what was that! What the fuck were you doing!”

Still cursing, Kevin charged and started grappling with Lu Ke. But Lu Ke didn’t back down, raising his hands to grab Kevin’s helmet. The two of them were like bulls, pressing helmet to helmet, neither giving an inch.

Seeing the fight, the other players swarmed over. Kevin spat out a stream of vile curses, ”Shameless yellow monkey! Go back to China! You show-off! You asshole! Disgusting Bambi! You son of a bitch!”

Hearing those racist words, Lu Ke snapped. What had been a standoff now erupted. He swung his fist, landing a heavy blow to Kevin’s gut, then another, hammering down viciously on his ribs. The fierce punches made Kevin start to howl in agony, a world-shaking cry as if he were on the verge of death.

That did it. He’d just kicked the hornet’s nest.

Lu Ke was a practice player—not even officially part of the practice squad. In the yearbook, he wouldn’t even be listed as a team member. Kevin, however, was on the main roster. Even though he was only third-string, he was still on the official depth chart, a player who could see the field in a real game. The two of them were, without a doubt, worlds apart.

As a result, the main roster players swarmed in, yanked Lu Ke off, and threw him violently to the ground. Then they started ganging up on him.

He was hopelessly outnumbered. Lu Ke felt himself being swallowed by the circle of players as fists and feet rained down on him like a torrential storm. He was powerless to fight back, curling into a ball on the ground. He clenched his jaw, refusing to utter a single cry of pain, and silently endured it all.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. Some scumbag started kicking Lu Ke’s helmet. In football, even grabbing a helmet is a penalty, let alone any move targeting a player above the shoulders. And yet, here was this filthy, cheap shot. Lu Ke felt his brain rattle inside his skull. The world shook, and his stomach churned. Dazed, his vision suddenly went black, and then a vast expanse of light appeared in his mind, like a sky full of stars.

But it only lasted a moment.

With a crisp ”DING,” the scrum of players was finally pulled apart. ”Bambi, Bambi, are you okay?” A voice full of worry sounded by his ear. Without opening his eyes, Lu Ke knew it was Logan Newman, his best friend. Logan was a starter—first-string.

”You sons of bitches! Have you all lost your minds?” Logan roared furiously at his own teammates. ”If you popped too many blue pills and need to blow off some steam, there’s a pack of wild dogs at the school gate! Go take it out on them!”

Just then, Coach Rick Neuheisel came hobbling over, spittle flying as he roared, ”What the hell is going on with you bastards? What the hell is going on? Price, did a donkey kick you in the head?”

Completely oblivious to the coach’s arrival, Kevin couldn’t contain his rage. He ripped off his helmet, his face flushed red, and screamed, ”Asshole! You asshole! You’re dead! I’m telling you, you’re dead!”

The coach gave Kevin a hard shove on the chest. Only then did Kevin notice the short, white-haired old man in front of him—the man who held his career in his hands. He panted, complaining loudly to the coach, ”It was just a simple walkthrough! A drill! Does he even know what practice is? He was playing like it was the damn Super Bowl!”

Why could a practice player sack someone on the main roster so easily? The reason was simple: it was practice. One side wasn’t taking it seriously, just going through the motions. The other side was giving it their all, holding nothing back. And so… BANG!

”Bullshit!” Facing Kevin’s fury, Logan charged right back at him, slamming his helmet against Kevin’s and refusing to give ground. ”You’re nothing but a whining little bitch! What can you do besides cry and complain? I guarantee you, Lu Ke would be a better quarterback than you!”

”What did you say?” Kevin completely lost it, surging forward like a bull again. ”You want to try it? You want to let that piece of trash on the field? That skinny paper doll? That glass man who’d shatter if you breathe on him too hard! He’s not even a backup, just a fucking practice player! If he completes a single pass, I’ll eat this goddamn football! Shit! You’re all a bunch of stupid, disgusting freaks! Come on! Let’s see him try!”

The commotion, which had just started to die down, instantly exploded again. The entire team devolved into a chaotic mess—starters, backups, and practice players all shoving and shouting. The situation was quickly spiraling out of control and turning into a major incident.

In the crush of bodies, Lu Ke, still on the ground, was completely helpless, like a lone canoe in a raging storm, about to be swamped at any moment. Just then, a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him backward, successfully pulling him out of the scrum. Fresh air flooded his lungs. He could breathe again.

”Bambi, are you crazy?” a furious voice roared in his ear, though beneath the anger, there was a hint of concern.

”Bambi” was his nickname. It started as a joke among his friends who had also immigrated from China. His surname, Lu, is a homophone for the Chinese word for ”deer” (鹿), and with the movie ”Little Deer Bambi” being so famous, the nickname stuck. Over time, everyone he knew started calling him that.

Bambi is a little deer, and American football is often called a barbarian’s game. For him to be on the field was like a fawn thrown into a den of lions; the irony was stark. The team’s players always used this nickname for the less-than-powerfully-built Lu Ke. Teasing, ridicule, mockery, discrimination—it was all wrapped up in that one name.

Lu Ke glanced up. ”Hey, John.” It was another member of the practice squad, John Ward.

John rolled his eyes dramatically. Over the din, he roared furiously, ”That little John Wayne routine you just pulled makes the rest of us look like crap. Would you please just tone it down!”

”Tone it down?” Lu Ke frowned, confused.

John practically spat the words through clenched teeth. ”Everyone’s always saying, ’We have to work as hard as Lu! We have to work as hard as Lu!’ I’m so sick of it I could puke.” John’s eyes were wide with rage, his face contorted. ”What good does it do you, getting your head kicked in every day? It’s not worth it, and you know it. You have to play in at least one regular-season game to be considered part of the team. But the problem is, you’re never going to see the field! So stop acting like some kind of savior! You’re a piece of shit! You’re just a fucking practice player! You’re not even a backup!”

”Fuck off, John!” Lu Ke waved a dismissive hand. ”If you don’t like it, you can leave!”

”You lunatics, all of you calm down! CALM THE HELL DOWN!” Rick roared, practically jumping with rage. The other coaches rushed in, and together they managed to get the scene under control.

The crowd gradually separated, but the young, hot-headed faces were still etched with anger. They roared at each other, ”Come on, let’s see it!” ”Yeah, let’s do it! You braindead idiots!”

”Quiet! Jesus-fucking-Christ!” Rick was incandescent with rage. ”Now all of you, get back to training!”

”Coach, just let Bambi try! He can easily wipe the floor with that idiot!” This furious declaration came from Logan.

”Let him try! I’m telling you, my bet still stands! If he can complete one pass, I’ll swallow this football whole!” came Kevin’s undaunted reply.

”Then have a damn competition!” Rick, utterly fed up, waved his hand as if shooing away flies. ”Three-on-three. A quarterback, a receiver, and a defensive player. Pick your own teams! A three-on-three drill! And after it’s over, every single one of you will shut the hell up! The losing team runs doubles! Now get! All of you, get on the field! Three-on-three! Starts now!”

”Bambi! Bambi!” Logan jogged over to Lu Ke’s side, shouting excitedly. ”Let’s go! We’re going to teach Kevin a lesson, show that piece of trash what you’re made of! You were the best quarterback in high school! Now’s the time to show them!”

But Lu Ke didn’t answer. A strange voice was ringing in his head: ’Rugby Superstar System binding complete. Commencing official activation. Countdown: Three… two… one…’