American Football: King of the Bay Area

“King of the Bay Area! King of the Bay Area! King of the Bay Area!”

The cries, one after another, came from seventy thousand fans. They gradually found a common rhythm, uniting as one to form a powerful sound wave—tenacious and indestructible. It swirled endlessly over Candlestick Park like a protective dome, truly establishing the might of their home field. The surging, majestic momentum lit the “candle” of Candlestick Park and forged the name of the Bay Area!

Sitting in the broadcast booth, Kirk Charleston watched the faces in the stadium with earnest focus. Every single person was red-faced, shouting themselves hoarse in unison, “The-King-Of-Bay-Area.” The sound waves overlapped, layer upon layer, the perfectly synchronized rhythm surging forward like a mighty army.

For some reason, Kirk felt an uncontrollable surge of emotion. An indescribable mix of feeling moved and exhilarated churned in his chest, as if his very soul were bathing in the vastness of a cosmic starburst, feeling his own insignificance while simultaneously sensing the pulse of the universe.

“Ladies and gentlemen, to our viewers at home, we are broadcasting live from Candlestick Park. No more words are needed, no further commentary is necessary. Just quiet down, listen closely, and you can feel the heartbeat of this city. This is football. This is competitive sports. It gets your blood pumping and makes you lose yourself in the moment.”

As he spoke, Kirk’s eyes couldn’t help but grow moist. For the San Francisco 49ers, for Candlestick Park, and even more for the beloved game of football, it was moments like these that constantly reminded him how beautiful it all was. It made one want to burn their life away like a moth drawn to a flame, just to erupt in a blaze of glory.

In that moment, Kirk truly fell in love with this team.

…

Jonathan Baldwin shouted with all his might, raising his hands high and waving his San Francisco 49ers home scarf. He joined the ranks of the entire stadium, a mighty force creating a vast, roiling sea of red. Even the fierce waves crashing on the Bay Area coastline seemed to pale in comparison.

Lowering his head, Jonathan’s gaze fell upon his younger brother, Ryan. He wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat. So, he simply gave up and roared even louder, even more frantically, “King of the Bay Area!” It was as if this was a creed, a faith, guiding them toward hope.

Ryan Baldwin sat quietly in his wheelchair, secured in the special seating for disabled persons. Silently, he watched the boundless sea of red before him. Silently, he gazed at the image across the stands, a mosaic formed by five hundred fans. Silently, his eyes scanned the words “King of the Bay Area” over and over.

His heart hammered against his chest as never before, so fiercely, so violently, that he could barely breathe.

But Ryan wasn’t worried in the slightest.

Because, for the first time since being diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, he felt hope. For the first time, he felt life—impossibly clear, scaldingly hot, and incredibly potent.

Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, commonly known as ALS or Lou Gehrig’s disease.

Patients gradually lose control of their muscles as motor neurons completely atrophy, resulting in total paralysis. It can even affect basic bodily functions like eating, breathing, and speaking.

What’s even more cruel is that the disease doesn’t affect sensory nerves. The patient’s intellect, memory, and five senses remain completely intact. In other words, patients can only watch, wide-eyed and helpless, as they lose control bit by bit, stepping ever closer to death.

The entire process is slow and prolonged, a gradual accumulation of suffering that turns every day into an ordeal. Generally, patients only survive for two to five years after onset. To this day, there is still no effective cure; even slowing the disease’s progression is incredibly difficult.

Once the diagnosis is confirmed, it’s a quiet wait for the Grim Reaper’s scythe. There is no mercy.

Denial, anger, bargaining, despair, acceptance.

After going through the five stages of grief, Ryan was gradually exhausted. Meanwhile, his beloved San Francisco 49ers had slid into a sunless abyss, as if all hope had vanished entirely. Everything. And so, Ryan had conceded. He chose to give up.

He gave up on rehabilitation, gave up the fight, and gave up on hope. He just sat there quietly, accepting his fate and awaiting his future.

But at this very moment, Ryan was so unwilling to let go. He was seeing it again. In his own lifetime, he was actually seeing this sea of red once more. It was even more dazzling, more fervent, more turbulent than the one in his memory.

Involuntarily, his fingertips began to tremble. Ryan quietly curled his fingers, clenching them into a fist. Tighter, and tighter still. The strength that had all but vanished returned, becoming clearer bit by bit. Then, without any warning, tears broke through the dams of his eyes and streamed down.

The tears were so hot they nearly scalded his cheeks, but the corners of his mouth couldn’t help but curve into a smile.

‘King of the Bay Area,’ he liked that name.

…

Vigorous, mighty, and unrestrained, the earth-shattering cheers echoed endlessly within Candlestick Park. Even inside the broadcast booth, one could still clearly feel the unstoppable wave of passion.

This was the debut of the Chinese Community’s fans on the football field.

The Candlestick Park officials made a formal broadcast to introduce a special group of fans—an incredibly unusual sight at any stadium. Moreover, they weren’t a special charity or public welfare group, but simply a fan club spontaneously organized by the local Chinese Community, which was even rarer.

But today was an exception.

On one hand, this was the first time Chinese fans had entered Candlestick Park as a semi-officially organized group to formally cheer for the team. On the other hand, this was also the first time the sport of football had officially tapped into the Chinese market, not only selling merchandise like jerseys and scarves but also attracting fans to buy official tickets to watch the games, opening up a brand-new market for official fandom.

For both the San Francisco 49ers and the Chinese Community, for the NFL, and even for the city of San Francisco itself, this was a moment worthy of being recorded in the annals of history.

It was a moment that broke down the barriers of culture and race, as well as the shackles of market interests. Ever since Lu Ke became the starting quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers, the team and the Alliance had been eagerly awaiting this day. After ten weeks of brewing and building, it had finally come to fruition. Finally!

Thus, the Candlestick Park officials gave them special treatment, and even the NFL gave its strong support, generously posting a special report on its official website after the game, formally turning a new page in history.

This was a game for the history books, but as for what the future pages of those books would look like, only time would tell.

…

The game was about to begin, and the players from both teams made their grand entrance. In an instant, all the noise in the home stadium transformed into an uninhibited roar, a single sound—”AHHH”—that exploded like a sudden clap of thunder, rumbling and resounding through the heavens.

The San Francisco 49ers players filed onto the field. At the head of the formation, leading all his teammates onto the stage, was none other than the team’s number fourteen, Lu Ke. Immediately, all the fans lost their minds, beginning to shout in unison, “Bambi! Bambi! Bambi!”

The overwhelming roar made the players and coaches of the New York Giants look on in surprise. They had heard about the reawakening of Candlestick Park, and they had heard about Lu Ke’s immense popularity in San Francisco, but hearing is nothing like experiencing it firsthand. Standing on the field, they could feel the vibrations through the soles of their feet.

Even Eli Manning, who had seen countless big games, couldn’t help but look up and survey the vast sea of red before him. Then… he broke into a carefree grin, eagerly pointing and chatting with his teammates like a little kid seeing a Fourth of July fireworks show for the first time.

The roars turned into cheers, and the cheers into a restless buzz. As kickoff approached, the cheering from the Candlestick Park fans finally began to subside. Then, the fans started signaling to each other, “Shh, it’s almost kickoff. Shh, quiet, quiet.”

Before the offense officially starts a play, they must gather around the quarterback to get the play call. The Defense Team, however, mostly adjusts in response to the opponent’s tactics. Even when proactively changing their defensive strategy, it’s mostly done through hand signals, with almost no need to huddle up.

This also meant the home crowd’s job became simple and clear: stay as quiet as possible when their own team was on offense to ensure the quarterback could communicate the play call accurately. And when the opposing team was on offense, make as much noise as possible to disrupt the opposing quarterback’s play calling.

In today’s game, the San Francisco 49ers would be the first to go on offense.

Sitting among the crowd in the stands, Jiang Youning saw Lu Ke walk onto the field as a captain for the coin toss with the referee. She excitedly grabbed Lu Zhengze’s arm, so moved she couldn’t speak. She just pointed toward the field, cheering softly again and again, her eyes, the smile on her lips, and her every movement conveying the sheer elation in her heart.

Despite his grand entrance under the watchful eyes of thousands, Lu Ke couldn’t quite find his rhythm on the first offensive drive. A running play hit a wall for no gain, just a stop at the line of scrimmage. An incomplete pass on a short route to Michael Crabtree was slightly off target. A short pass found Vernon Davis, who powered forward for a tough seven yards.

But, it still wasn’t enough for a first down. They were three yards short.

The fans in the stadium let out a collective low sigh. Although they knew that an offense couldn’t always have smooth sailing and that a three-and-out was perfectly normal, their high expectations inevitably led to some disappointment. One sigh wasn’t much, but the sound of seventy thousand fans sighing in unison was truly a spectacle.

“Looks like the home fans have some massive expectations for this game,” Teddy Williams chuckled teasingly.