American Football: King of the Bay Area

Scott Torsin, Marcus Lynch, Aldon Smith, Kendall Hunter, Colin Jones… All the rookie players stood behind Lu Ke.

Demarcus Dobbs, Will Tukuafu… All the undrafted players also started to gather around.

Blake Costanzo, Tavarris Gooden, Larry Grant, Carlos Rogers… Many of the players who had just joined the team this year walked over as well.

Not only that, but the practice squad players also began to drift toward Lu Ke’s side of the locker room. Although they didn’t cluster together, instead standing scattered in the open space a short distance away, the balance of power and the entire dynamic of the standoff had been completely transformed.

Across from Logan and Lu Ke stood a massive contingent. A boisterous crowd of a dozen or so men thronged around Parris, with another dozen scattered behind them. In total, they numbered at least thirty, perhaps more—the vast majority of the 53-man roster. Their presence was formidable.

But the group standing behind Logan and Lu Ke was not to be outdone. With over a dozen players, plus the members of the practice squad, they surprisingly created a standoff. They weren’t just holding their own; they seemed to have a slight upper hand.

Compared to the team’s power dynamics over the past two weeks, the situation was subtly shifting. The seasoned vets who had just joined the San Francisco 49ers this year had originally been taking a wait-and-see approach or leaning toward the veteran faction. Now, however, they were making their choices.

Some remained firmly by Parris’s side—a veteran’s influence was deep-rooted and multifaceted, not something easily broken. Others, however, had moved to stand with Lu Ke. But it wasn’t so much that they had chosen Lu Ke; they had chosen victory.

The new players were all hired guns with no deep emotional ties to the team. They had no traditions to uphold, no authority to defend. They were simply mercenaries, making choices that served their own interests based on which way the wind was blowing. That was all.

More importantly, Michael Crabtree and Vernon Davis were conspicuously absent from the ranks of Parris and his followers. The players from the Offense Line were nowhere to be seen either.

They were all veterans, all pillars of the offense. But right now, they weren’t standing up to join Parris’s confrontation. Instead, they remained seated on the benches far away, nearly lost in the crowd, keeping a low profile.

You could almost sense their inner conflict and hesitation. On one hand, they felt compelled to support the veterans. On the other, they were unwilling to escalate the conflict further. Caught in a dilemma, they chose to take a small step back.

But this subtle shift in allegiance dropped a bombshell in the locker room. The veterans’ power was further weakened, their ranks suddenly looking thin. They had lost their advantage in the standoff. ’Only two games into the season, and the absolute authority in this locker room is already slipping away?’

Lu Ke noticed the shift in the balance of power, but Logan, consumed by rage, did not.

Reacting to Parris, Logan clenched his fists and took a large step forward. ”Making a big deal out of nothing? So what if I called your mother a whore, you’d have no problem with that? Or say, if your mother knelt down to service me, you’d be okay with it?”

Those few words were like a torch tossed into a vat of oil. BOOM. Everything exploded.

Parris swung his fists and charged. Logan, not to be outdone, barreled forward like a raging bull and slammed into him sideways. The two men collided violently with a heavy THUD, like two planets crashing into each other. Instantly, the locker room erupted with a surge of testosterone and adrenaline.

At this point, words were useless. The situation was out of control, and the only way to settle it was with a fight. Without hesitation, Lu Ke clenched his fists, his muscles tensing as he surged to the front line.

”Stop! Stop! STOP!” An uncontrolled roar echoed through the air, accompanied by a series of loud BANGS. Several helmets came flying through the air like grenades, followed by a torrent of profanity. ”GOD DAMN IT! YOU BUNCH OF ASSHOLES!” What followed was a long, continuous stream of bleeped-out curses.

Lu Ke tensed his right leg, ready to throw a side kick at a moment’s notice. Suddenly, he felt a violent rush of air from his left—a chaotic storm of shouts, curses, and flying helmets raining down. On pure reflex, Lu Ke reined himself in and took half a step back, dodging a helmet just in time to see it slam against the wall with a heavy thud.

Parris, across from Lu Ke, was a half-beat too slow to react. A helmet caught him in the shoulder and neck, bringing his charge to a dead stop. His eyes were bloodshot with uncontrollable rage as he roared, ”Who was that?!”

But Parris barely got the word out before he was hit head-on by the torrent of fury. All his own anger instantly vanished. He stood frozen, his expression flickering, and opened his mouth to try and defend himself. ”It’s not my fault!” But his words were completely drowned out; there wasn’t even a pause for him to squeeze a word in.

Besides, the man exploding with rage was Jim Hubble, the team’s head coach, the man in absolute control.

Even Parris didn’t dare challenge the head coach’s authority. The words of his defense died in his throat, leaving him utterly frustrated.

Before Logan could even regain his footing, Marcus and Scott reacted, grabbing his arms and holding him tight. ”Coach! Coach! Coach!” they yelled. Still seeing red, Logan didn’t notice the shift in the room’s atmosphere and tried to break free. But Marcus and Scott held on, and gradually, Logan came back to his senses.

”You all think you’re hot stuff with a two-game winning streak? The season’s just started! The real challenges are just beginning! Why don’t you take a look at how you played last week—no defense, no offense. We were damn lucky to win that game. And now, instead of preparing for next week, you’ve got time for this infighting! Stupid! You’re all a bunch of idiots!”

Jim was genuinely furious. As he surveyed the chaos in the locker room, the veins on his neck bulged precariously. Blood rushed to his face, turning it crimson, and it was as if you could hear his capillaries bursting one by one. The man looked like he was about to explode.

Only Jim’s voice echoed in the locker room, his words an indiscriminate assault on everyone present.

”Bunch of morons! Everybody out! Laps around the field—thirty of them! And today’s practice doesn’t start until you’re done!” Jim slammed his playbook on the ground, spat, and said between heaving breaths, his sharp gaze sweeping over the players. ”Every. Single. One. Of. You. Yes, you heard me! Every last man runs!”

Catching a restless Parris out of the corner of his eye, Jim shot him a ferocious glare. ”Got a problem? Why are you all still in the locker room instead of starting your punishment? Or would you rather be suspended? I could just cut you from the roster. How about we just forfeit this week’s game? We can just surrender and let the media and fans come take a look at what the hell is going on here!”

Absolutely tough. No retreat. No compromise. Once again, Jim displayed the decisive ruthlessness of an iron-fisted coach.

The head coach had just launched an indiscriminate attack, handing out collective punishment to everyone. Lu Ke could have argued, appealed, or protested, but it would have been pointless. Locker room conflicts were never solved with words. They were solved with fists, or with victories.

So, Lu Ke said nothing. He glanced back at his guys, gave them a meaningful look, and then led the way out of the locker room, jogging toward the practice field.

The rookies were the first to move, falling in line and jogging behind Lu Ke. The undrafted players and new additions who had stood with him exchanged a look. After a brief hesitation, they too fell in behind him, following his lead and quietly accepting the punishment.

Watching Lu Ke’s actions, Parris was filled with indignation and defiance. ”Coach!” he called out. ’Veterans putting rookies in their place is a tradition. It’s the same on all thirty-two teams in the Alliance. Why does that Chinese player get special treatment?’

”Parris!” Alex Smith, who had been standing behind Jim, stepped forward, his voice sharp as he cut off Parris’s protest. ”You heard the coach. Thirty laps. No exceptions. Now move! What are you waiting for?”

”Alex!” Parris was still seething, his voice hoarse and distorted with rage.

Alex projected the authority of a team captain. ”Don’t make me say it again! This locker room isn’t a boxing ring, and you don’t play football with your fists! So, laps. Now! Everyone needs to clear their head!” With that, Alex pointed to the locker room door, ordering them to move out.

Alex’s influence was clear. Though resentful and dissatisfied, the players began to move, slowly filing out of the locker room to accept their punishment. But compared to the rookies, undrafted players, and new additions, the steps of these seasoned vets were heavy, every muscle in their bodies screaming reluctance.

Parris, trailing at the very back, shot Alex a disgruntled look before following the others. Alex said nothing more, simply falling into step with Parris and joining his teammates in their punishment, even though he had arrived with Jim and taken no part in the commotion.

In the blink of an eye, the locker room fell quiet.