"I said it, I said it all along," Charles Davis said, sitting in his ESPN broadcast chair, waving his hands passionately. He couldn't sit still, getting up and down, using exaggerated gestures to emphasize his point. "He's just a fleeting meteor!"
"Frankly, I thought this game would at least be competitive. After all, that meteor shined brightly in the last game. I never expected it to go out so quickly! The entire first half was like a ghost! The San Francisco 49ers' offense completely disappeared!"
Charles spoke with spittle flying, and his excited expression didn't hide his enthusiasm.
"Let's look at his stats: four completions on eleven passes for twenty-one yards, one interception, and no touchdowns. He only got one first down. That's his first-half performance. A quarterback like that isn't the brains of the team; he's a cancerous tumor that needs to be removed!"
The stats didn't lie.
The reason Lu Ke received so much attention in the first game was because of his incredible stats. Similarly, Lu Ke's first-half stats today were a disaster. Even though four of the six incomplete passes were due to drops by the receivers, the fact was that the San Francisco 49ers' offense was completely stuck in quicksand.
They were still sinking, unable to get out.
"Now, let's calm down and face reality," Charles said, seemingly calming down. His tone returned to normal as he took a reasonable and factual stance. "He's just an ordinary quarterback. Does he have the ability to be a starter in this league? We'll have to see. But what's certain is that there are countless quarterbacks with a similar skill set in this league. He's not the savior of the San Francisco 49ers."
His calm tone was filled with an undeniable conviction.
Edward Bowen, once again taking on the role of the host, continued to guide the conversation. "So, you don't think Lu Ke can make a comeback in the second half?"
"No, I don't think so," Charles said without hesitation. "To be precise, I don't think the future of the 49ers belongs to him. Alex Smith can return next week, and Colin Kaepernick is a better option. In the second half, our focus will be on: can the San Francisco 49ers get another first down? Do they have a chance to break their scoreless streak?"
After that, Charles showed a big smile and winked mischievously, showing off his cleverness. "By the way, my bet is still on. If the San Francisco 49ers win this game, I'll swallow my microphone!"
He was brimming with confidence!
Charles wasn't the only one. In other broadcast booths, all the commentators were talking non-stop, eager to voice their opinions and analyses. They were analyzing the reasons for the 49ers' struggles, the Cowboys' defensive strategy, and the outlook for the second half. Nobody believed in Lu Ke. It was all gloom and doom.
Even in the Fox broadcast studio, which was supportive of the San Francisco 49ers, the atmosphere between Teddy and Kirk was heavy, not just because of the 17-0 score, but also because the 49ers' offense still couldn't get going. It seemed like everything had gone wrong, and the rhythm was all off. What was going on?
At the same time, the players in the locker room were asking the same question: What was wrong? What was up with the offense?
I draped a towel over my head, blocking out all the light and sound, and entered my thought process. I needed to calm down, clear my head, and regain control of the situation.
The first half was a mess, but there was still a glimmer of hope.
Even though the Dallas Cowboys' cover defense was tight, there were still open players, and completions could still be made. The opportunities were just fewer and more difficult, and the receivers' poor performance had made the situation even worse.
Even though the Cowboys' defensive strategy was working, they hadn't put any pressure on me at all. They were just taking advantage of the fact that I couldn't run the ball and my poor physical strength. As long as I could find an opening, that would be enough to change the game.
Even though my pass completion rate was terrible, two of the incomplete passes were my own fault, which was unusual for me since I'm known for my accuracy. But both of those inaccurate passes were medium-range passes, and my accuracy on those is only sixty-five percent.
The Cowboys' defense had a clear focus. The short passing area was crowded with players, with hardly any openings and no yards gained. The deep passing area was guarded by two safeties, which seemed like an open door, allowing me to throw deep. They weren't even blitzing, which made it clear they were leaving an opening, but the two cornerbacks were always moving toward the backfield, ready to help with the defense at any time.
Intentionally or unintentionally, the movements and positions of the defensive players were leaving subtle openings, forcing me to choose a medium-range pass.
But medium-range passes require the most precise timing, running routes, and positioning. That's why I had two inaccurate passes and why Davis dropped the ball, which led to the interception.
My strengths are my accurate decision-making, my ability to read the defense, and my ability to anticipate plays. My weaknesses are my lack of experience, my lack of background, and my overconfidence.
The Dallas Cowboys had taken advantage of my strengths and weaknesses. They were confident that I would see the opening in the medium-passing area and would choose to throw a medium-range pass, which was exactly where they had set a trap for me. Then they would stop the play, kill the drive, and get an interception.
During the game, decisions are made in a flash and are often based on instinct. Now that I've calmed down, the entire picture is becoming clearer.
Game experience is a valuable asset that can't be gained overnight. I don't have it yet, but luckily, there's still a half of football left.
"F---! Mind your own business! And tell the f---ing quarterback to do his job! If he can't, we have Smith and Kaepernick! This nightmare will be over in just one half!"
"You're talking about doing your job? Did you do your job? Whose drop led to an interception? Whose laziness almost cost us more points?"
"What did you say? What the f--- did you just say? What did you do today?"
"Shut up, both of you! Everyone is responsible for a bad offense. Four drops, the receivers had four drops. It's not just Lu Ke's fault!"
"Whose fault is it then? He's the quarterback. He gets the glory, so he has to take responsibility! He has to take the blame! You can't just enjoy the good parts and refuse the bad ones."
"Do you even see him as the quarterback? Huh? What were you doing in practice? Are you sure your drops today have nothing to do with practice? Are you sure you're not playing badly on purpose, hoping to get Lu Ke benched?"
"You're crazy! Jesus-f---ing-Christ! You shameless b------!"
The rookies and veteran players had seemingly torn off their masks, and all their conflicts had erupted uncontrollably.
Regardless of whether they were on offense, defense, or special teams, and regardless of their personal relationships, all the players in the locker room were roughly divided into two groups: rookies and non-rookies.
This year's rookies, including the undrafted ones, only numbered twelve. The other forty-one players on the roster were all at least in their second year in the league.
If we're just talking about numbers, the rookies were at a huge disadvantage. They couldn't even put up a fight. But the San Francisco 49ers were a bit special. Out of the forty-one non-rookies, fifteen had joined the team this year. In other words, the 49ers only had twenty-six veteran players.
The fifteen new players, although in the veteran camp, mostly kept their mouths shut and didn't get involved in the team's factional struggle.
So, the confrontation between the twelve rookies and the twenty-six veterans began. They went back and forth without giving an inch. The suppression and frustration that had been building up, along with the humiliation and annoyance from the first half, all came out in a fiery explosion. The entire locker room became a powder keg.
The noisy chaos eventually got out of control, piercing through the towel, and drilling into my ears. It interrupted my thoughts, and my head started to ache.
But I didn't join the fight. I needed time and space to clear my head. The second half of the game still needed to be played. It wasn't my place, as an undrafted rookie, to maintain order in the locker room.
I waited for Coach Jim Harbaugh to come and restore order, but I waited and waited, and he never came. So, I decided not to wait any longer.
"Shut up!" I ripped off the towel, jumped up, and, using all the strength in my core, shouted, "ALL-OF-YOU-F---ING-SHUT-YOUR-DAMN-MOUTHS! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" My roaring voice forcefully suppressed all the other noise.
Everyone stared at me in shock, but my sharp, determined gaze gave off a powerful sense of pressure. No one dared to say a word.
"I don't need you to like me! I don't give a f--- about any of you!" I scanned the locker room, and my gaze finally landed on Vernon Davis. It wasn't about Davis, but because Parys was standing behind him, forming a line, and I needed to face them head-on.
"I love winning! I crave winning! I want to see the looks of defeat on those Cowboys' faces! I want to feel the satisfaction of crushing them again! I refuse to relive the tragedies of those two NFC Championship games in 1992 and 1993! This is San Francisco! This is our team! No one can do whatever they want on our turf! If you're all cowards who are afraid of winning and afraid of facing the Cowboys, then please, leave!"
My words echoed in the locker room, full of power and momentum, and they stirred up a storm!
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