Chapter 773: Pride Never Dies
The practice was over, and night had fallen, but Randy Moss still hadn't left.
Moss was not stupid; on the contrary, he was very smart.
Five regular season games had already passed, but he had barely had any opportunities to perform. Even when he occasionally took the field as a rotational player, the number of times he was targeted was very limited. More often than not, he was just a tactical chess piece used to occupy the running routes of defensive players.
In Moss's words, he was a scarecrow. He was put in the field to attract or scare away crows, but he had no real impact.
The problem was that he wasn't a scarecrow, and he shouldn't be a scarecrow! He was a warrior. Even though he was no longer young, even though he was covered in scars, and even though his form was not what it used to be, he was still a true warrior deep down in his blood. He longed for battle, for blood, and for combat!
He didn't choose to come out of retirement to be a scarecrow on the bench!
Those snot-nosed kids, they all thought he was done, that he was over. They all thought they were great, as if they already owned the world, but the one who had truly touched the top of the world was him, it should be him! They should all admire him and submit to him, not treat him as an ordinary wide receiver.
Damn it! He wasn't a normal wide receiver. He was Randy Moss! The one and only Randy Moss!
Moss knew he had to stand up for himself, to fight for himself. His glory and medals were not earned by sitting quietly on the sidelines, but by taking the initiative, going through the test of blood and fire, and winning them with his own injuries and pain!
So, after the regular practice ended today, Moss left the training facility. Then, he secretly came back and waited in the parking lot. He was waiting for all the players to leave before he would have a heart-to-heart talk with Harbaugh.
He needed to earn a place in the locker room, he needed to establish his authority on the team, and he needed to get a chance to prove himself in a game. More importantly, he needed the quarterback to value his presence, he needed the quarterback to cooperate with his style of play, and he needed to get more playing time and more opportunities to catch the ball.
He wasn't some old man on his last legs! He wasn't some rookie that could be summoned or dismissed at will! He was not some nobody that anyone could boss around!
He, Randy Moss, even at thirty-two years old, was still the king of this field!
The waiting time was incredibly long and tiring. Out of boredom, Moss still opened his tablet and started watching game film.
But the quiet moment was broken!
That rookie quarterback who barely had any facial hair came over and brazenly told him how to run his route. He had no idea how arrogant he was. It was true that he thought this kid was quite interesting and had shown some points worthy of discussion in the past few weeks, but that didn't mean that this kid could stand in front of him and gesticulate wildly.
What that guy said truly pissed him off! More than ever before!
After suppressing it again and again, and waiting again and again, the other person's interference and questioning finally pulled the trigger. So, Moss went all out, and a stream of vulgar and sharp curses came out, venting all the frustration and anger he had in his heart.
"Really?" Lu Ke said loudly, without any hesitation or fear. He just collided straight back.
A phrase with no beginning or end, and Moss was so stunned that he didn't understand what was happening or where the phrase came from. After a brief pause, just as he was about to start cursing again, Lu Ke spoke again, interrupting his flow.
"In 2007, Week 9 of the regular season, the New England Patriots against the Indianapolis Colts."
Lu Ke's opening created more questions. Moss had no idea what was happening, but as the words continued, Moss's memory box opened little by little.
"The second drive of the third quarter, the same inward cutting route to the central area, a short pass of about six to seven yards. Brady had a quick snap and a quick release. At that time, your running route was not so flashy. Facing the combined defense of a corner and an inside linebacker, and a safety quickly coming over for support, you followed the route in the playbook, arrived at the spot, and completed the catch."
A similar situation, a similar drive, and a similar scene, but the results were completely different. In one case, Moss completed the catch; in the other, Moss missed the catch.
Moss was completely shocked and couldn't believe it. Was Lu Ke doing this on purpose or was it unintentional? Why did he remember the details and structure of those plays so clearly?
Just as Moss was about to retort, Lu Ke added, "Do you need me to also tell you the names of the corner, the linebacker, and the safety, and their running routes at that time?"
Moss shut his mouth. To continue would only be asking for a humiliation.
Lu Ke stood there, his feet unmoving, staring at Moss intently. He didn't continue to speak, allowing the silence to slowly spread.
This made Moss feel uneasy, but after a moment of calmness, Moss felt angry again. His rage boiled up. "Damn it!" A curse came out again, with a force that was two, three, and four times as strong, erupting mightily and majestically. He even felt the impulse to throw a punch.
"So, really? Is there really nothing wrong with your running route? Can't the route in the playbook be changed? Did your connection with Brady really not involve any prior communication? Is it really my problem that the team's offense can't seem to find you? Is the route you insist on really the best choice?"
A series of rhetorical questions instantly broke Moss's rhythm, leaving him speechless. The unknown fire began to burn fiercely. All he wanted to do was to choke that guy to death, to use his own hands to fiercely grab that throat and stop all his words. The only thought in his mind was, "Shut up! Shut up! Just f***ing shut up!"
But Lu Ke was still relentless.
"Let me tell you the answer?" Lu Ke continued. "Because that was the New England Patriots. Because that was Bill Belichick. Because that was Tom Brady. And here, none of that is true. If I'm wrong, please feel free to correct me or refute me."
Among the three teams in Moss's career, the only head coach who could suppress him was Belichick.
It wasn't that Moss was unwilling to run relatively fixed routes; it was because the San Francisco 49ers hadn't been able to tame this wild horse.
The words stung Moss's sensitive nerves, and he couldn't refute them. A sense of humiliation grew little by little. He was about to burst with rage. Between throwing a punch and controlling his temper, he chose the latter. He still needed to talk to the head coach today, so it was better to avoid getting into trouble. So, he turned around and left.
He straightened his chest and held his head high. Even though he was in a sorry state, ashamed, and angry, Moss still held on to his pride, the pride of "Randy Moss." He wouldn't bow his head because he was young, because of his injuries, or because of his form. This was a conclusion he had drawn from his long career because in the professional league, in this cruel society, no one would pity the weak.
Lu Ke was still too young. He couldn't understand Moss's persistence and mentality, nor could he understand Moss's stubbornness, but he could read pride in Moss's back, a pride that would not bend. A pride that, even when he was a mess and covered in injuries, still refused to surrender or admit defeat.
"Randy Moss, why did you choose to come back?"
Lu Ke's voice was full of youth and vitality, echoing leisurely in the empty parking lot. The raging wind could not shake that vigorous life, which made Moss's steps stop unconsciously.
"You are a legend! A true legend! Do you know what the name 'Randy Moss' means? For a corner, it's a terrifying nightmare. And for a quarterback, it's a beautiful wonderland. You have created countless histories. You have had a brilliant career. Even if you retire now, you can easily enter the Hall of Fame, no doubt about it."
"You don't need to prove yourself."
Unconsciously, Moss straightened his back again. Even though his spine was already perfectly straight, he still raised his chin and pulled back his shoulders. The arrogance that burst out from inside made him clench his fists tightly.
"You don't need to prove yourself."
This sentence was so heavy and so precious to Moss.
He had spent his whole life trying to prove himself because people thought he was still not as good as Jerry Rice. He was the best wide receiver in history, not only because of his excellent performance on the field but also because of his impeccable reputation off the field, and also because of the huge difference in the number of Super Bowl wins. Jerry Rice had won three Super Bowls! And he was also a Super Bowl MVP!
He could never catch up to Jerry Rice's footsteps.
His pain, his struggle, and his mission, others would never understand.
"You know what? I'm jealous of you because you have talent, a talent that makes people crazy with jealousy. As soon as you step onto the field, you seem to have a natural keen sense. You can always smell an opportunity and open up the situation. This is something I dream of. I have to put in ten or a hundred times the effort just to barely keep up with you."
Suddenly, Lu Ke's tone changed. Moss couldn't help but frown and turned around fiercely, cursing in disgust, "So what? What does that mean? Are you trying to win my sympathy now? That doesn't work. You know, if you had a pair of big boobs, I might consider it."
Facing Moss's retort, Lu Ke didn't get angry. Instead, he chuckled.
This was indeed Moss's usual style, always unpredictable.
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