American Football: King of the Bay Area

Chapter 383: Chapter 380: Gathering Sand into a Pagoda

The sparse morning sun sprinkled down, warm and languid. A gentle breeze carrying the scent of the sea drifted by, tempting one to simply lift their head, bask in the warmth, and lie idly on a bench. To savor the leisure and comfort of a cup of coffee, letting time slip by like sand through their fingers.

But for the players and coaches of the San Francisco 49ers, this was an unrealistic dream. The bye week was over, all the Week 7 regular season games had concluded, and Wednesday had arrived. They had to snap back into focus and start preparing for the week’s game.

A good vacation always flew by, over before one could even properly enjoy it. The next break would have to wait until the entire season was over, during the offseason.

Jonathan Goodwin arrived early at the training facility at Candlestick Park.

Today was a bit special. After a bye week, they needed more time to get back into game shape, warm up, and dive into practice. They also needed more time to watch game film, rousing their sluggish minds and slowly winding them back up. So, even though it was a return to practice, this Wednesday felt different from the others.

However, before heading to the locker room to change into his practice gear and before starting the official warm-ups, Goodwin had a personal matter to attend to. That was why he had arrived at the training facility a full twenty minutes earlier than scheduled. After leaving the parking lot, he walked straight toward the team’s office building.

On the practice field, a thin mist was slowly dissipating. Faint golden sunlight could be glimpsed, spreading out bit by bit like a drop of light ink in clear spring water. The green of the turf and the blue of the sky were coated in a soft hue. The magnificent sight was almost breathtaking, making one want to gasp in awe.

Amid the tranquility, a faint rustling sound could be heard—the subtle noise of footsteps brushing against the turf. Rhythmic and powerful, yet light and agile, the sound tugged at the heartstrings in the quiet air. Far from disturbing the peace, it conveyed a vibrant vitality, like watching a seed sprout. In the bleakness of late autumn and early winter, it pulsed with a heart-stirring energy.

His gaze followed the sound, and Goodwin saw a figure in the mist. Jersey number fourteen.

The somewhat slender frame was much sturdier than when he had first joined the team. With solid, well-defined muscles, a balanced and agile build, and steady, light footsteps, he looked like a graceful deer during the long, arduous run. Every movement was filled with an aesthetic beauty that could mesmerize a hunter. Then, with a turn, he would transform into an agile cheetah, poised to strike.

Even with a 5-1 record, he hadn’t gotten complacent. Instead, he remained grounded and continued to train.

It wasn’t surprising, nor was it unexpected. On the contrary, it felt perfectly natural.

When Goodwin realized this, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

They seemed to have gradually gotten used to Lu Ke’s diligence and hard work. Used to having a madman, a freak, on the team. Used to having someone so dedicated that he would forget to eat or sleep. Used to having someone leading them all forward with great strides.

No one dwelled on the fact that Lu Ke was a rookie, an undrafted one at that. Nor did anyone care that Lu Ke was an Asian player—one of a kind in the entire Alliance. Now, Lu Ke was the starting quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers, and he was gradually shouldering the responsibilities of a leader.

It sounded like something out of a fairytale, because Lu Ke had only been in the Alliance for six—no, seven weeks. But that was the reality; all of it was actually happening. This wasn’t a movie, a novel, or a myth. Every player involved could feel its truth viscerally.

During the bye week, while Goodwin and Joe Stanley were out for a drink, they casually brought up a play—an occupational hazard they couldn’t shake. The two ended up arguing, and finally, Stanley just said, “Why don’t we call Bambi and check? He’ll definitely back me up.”

The key point was this: when they had a question about the playbook, the first person who came to mind wasn’t the Offense Line coach, but Lu Ke.

Because during their regular practices, Lu Ke’s understanding of the playbook was astonishing. It seemed no question could stump him. Even if he was stuck for a moment, Lu Ke would go back, research it in detail, and come back with a verified answer.

His incredible performance made everyone curious. After digging a little deeper, they found out that Lu Ke spent all of his free time studying game film and the playbook, and he had been doing so without fail since the preseason. The strategy meetings among the rookies, in particular, had become famous throughout the team.

People always wondered where leadership came from, and how a rookie like Lu Ke could earn the respect of the seasoned veterans.

It was talent, and it was effort. It was the small, everyday details, accumulating one by one, like grains of sand building a tower.

Standing where he was, Goodwin watched Lu Ke quietly. Lu Ke was jogging, then suddenly accelerated—this was the infamous “suicide sprint” of the San Francisco 49ers. The team’s top athletes, Vernon Davis and Michael Crabtree, had both tried it before. Afterward, they both declared, “That guy is a psycho.”

After the hundred-meter sprint, Lu Ke didn’t immediately slow down. Instead, he began doing lateral crossover steps to work on his footwork—

His calves and knees were visibly trembling. The suicide sprint that even Vernon and Crabtree couldn’t handle was, of course, no simple feat; it pushed one’s stamina and muscles to their absolute limit. But Lu Ke still didn’t give up, focusing intently on his footwork even as he pushed past exhaustion.

For a moment, his knees knocked together, and he stumbled, losing his balance. Even Goodwin almost cried out in alarm. But Lu Ke used his arms to regain his balance, avoiding a fall and continuing his run without any sign of stopping to rest.

Letting out a soft breath, Goodwin turned and walked toward the office building. As a veteran, he was genuinely impressed. He was willing to believe in Lu Ke, to believe that the San Francisco 49ers’ hopes rested on the shoulders of this rookie quarterback, and to believe that Lu Ke could lead the team through adversity.

Standing outside the head coach’s office, Goodwin knocked on the door. After waiting a moment, he heard Jim Hubble’s flustered voice from within. “I’m in, I’m in! Who is it? What is it?” The hoarse voice still carried the tell-tale rasp of someone who had just woken up, which was quite amusing.

If Goodwin wasn’t mistaken, the head coach had likely spent the night in his office again.

Although Hubble never knew how to handle the thorny issues in the locker room, and his awful personality—domineering, egocentric, and hot-tempered—didn’t win him any fans, no one could deny that he was an outstanding coach. His strategic planning, big-picture control, and in-game adjustments were all top-notch.

Even when faced with the crisis of a last-minute quarterback change, Hubble had made the necessary tactical adjustments to make the entire offense gel.

This year was a fresh and important start for the San Francisco 49ers. The amount of work required to get the team to gel was immense, and Hubble was working himself to the bone. It was a common occurrence for him to stay in his office day and night studying game film; the entire training facility had grown accustomed to it.

On the field, the offense led by Lu Ke was dominating. Off the field, the coaching staff led by Hubble laid the groundwork. This shared dedication, focus, and commitment was what had led the San Francisco 49ers to their excellent record.

From this perspective, it was no surprise that the collaboration between Hubble and Lu Ke was creating sparks.

Goodwin didn’t enter immediately, instead waiting a moment to give Hubble some time to pull himself together. Only then did he push open the office door. “Coach, it’s me. Before practice starts, I’ve got something I’d like to discuss with you. In private, I mean.”

“What’s up?” Hubble rubbed his eyes and let out a huge yawn. He casually straightened his disheveled clothes, completely unconcerned that it might undermine his coaching authority. He scratched vigorously at his bird’s-nest hair, his face greasy. “What time is it? We don’t have the official press conference yet, do we?”

Clearly, the extra moment Goodwin had allowed hadn’t been put to good use. He could just imagine Hubble appearing before reporters looking like this. It would cause an uproar, and social media would have a field day.

“No, the morning recovery practice hasn’t even started yet.” Goodwin sat in the chair across from Hubble, only to discover a pair of socks draped over the armrest. They felt a little damp. The discovery dealt 100,000 points of critical damage to Goodwin.

Before he could react, Hubble stood up, snatched the socks away without explanation, and asked directly, “So, what’s this all about?”

Goodwin had no desire to ask why the socks had been on the armrest. He wasn’t curious at all. So, he followed Hubble’s lead and got straight to the point. “I’ve been thinking that it’s time to pass the title of offensive captain to Lu Ke. He’s without a doubt a better fit, and the right choice.”

The San Francisco 49ers had just gone through a unique offseason, and the team’s integration was still in a turbulent phase. Their captaincies were currently a bit unusual: Patrick Willis for the Defense Team, Jonathan Goodwin for the offense, and David Akens for special teams.

And now, Goodwin was taking the initiative to suggest giving the position of offensive captain to Lu Ke. This was a significant change, and it was the very reason Goodwin had arrived at the training facility so early.