Chapter 775: A Small Change
Lu Ke was nervous, even on the verge of a breakdown.
That was Randy Moss, the famous Randy Moss, a Hall of Fame wide receiver who can be ranked in the top three in the entire history of the sport, and undoubtedly one of the greatest players of all time. But he, a mere second-year player, was lecturing Randy Moss, and not even during a game fueled by adrenaline. He was confronting him with a heated head.
This, this was unbelievable!
Even Lu Ke himself felt like he had eaten the guts of a bear and the heart of a leopard.
However, his four years of journalism training in college came in handy at a critical moment. He remained calm and collected, always maintaining a composed and steady demeanor on the surface. He went through the entire confrontation in an orderly manner, expressing all of his thoughts. The result, however, was unknown.
Now, with his back to Moss, Lu Ke's back muscles were completely stiff. He put his left hand in his pocket and gripped his backpack strap with his right hand. Both hands were tightly clenched into fists. He was trying his best to hide his true emotions, to avoid looking intimidated at the last moment, and to feign a casual demeanor as he turned and walked away.
...
Moss couldn't believe his eyes. Lu Ke just left? He just left? What on earth was going on?
He had just vented his anger, but now the fire in his chest was starting to burn fiercely again. How dare he? How dare he! This guy, who had no idea how arrogant he was, must have a death wish!
"Should I kill him? Or should I kill him?"
The thought was so tempting that he couldn't stop himself from trembling all over. In his thirteen years in the league, no one had ever dared to talk to him like that. Let alone a second-year player, even Tom Brady was always polite and courteous. This kid who hadn't even proven himself yet dared to talk to him like that?
He was crazy. This world was crazy!
"It's not because you're not the 22-year-old Randy Moss anymore, but because the 22-year-old Randy Moss, relying on this style of play, still couldn't win a Super Bowl, not even on the 2007 New England Patriots."
"It's not because you're not the 22-year-old Randy Moss anymore, but because the 22-year-old Randy Moss, relying on this style of play, still couldn't win a Super Bowl, not even on the 2007 New England Patriots."
That sentence just now was like a curse, haunting his mind, over and over again. The burning anger had completely blinded him, and he couldn't think at all. He just chewed on the same sentence again and again. The violent and rampant anger was destroying all his emotions.
Kill him. Kill him. Kill that bastard!
But Moss quickly came back to his senses. Lu Ke had already left. The parking lot was empty, and he couldn't see anyone. He didn't even hear the sound of an engine. It seemed like he had only been thinking for a moment, and he was the only one left on the huge field.
"Ah! Ahhh!"
Moss threw all the things in his hands out, no matter what they were, or what they were for. He just threw them blindly, but all his punches and kicks landed in the air. The feeling of nothingness made the emotions in his mind boil even more. He was frustrated, uncomfortable, and stifled.
He was on the verge of an explosion.
"Ah!" Moss vented all his anger and howled at the sky.
Just then, someone in the office building next door opened a window and cursed mercilessly, "Where did this psycho come from? If you want to be the Hulk, go somewhere far away, like in the bushes. What are you yelling about here? Don't you know this place is already noisy with a bunch of overly energetic football players? We finally have a bit of peace and quiet. What are you yelling for?"
Apparently, the staff member's mood was also very irritable from working overtime. He continued to mutter about his girlfriend, sitting on the sofa, and hot pizza, and then he slammed the window shut with a "bang," and the lingering sound echoed deeply in the empty space.
The curses were like a bucket of cold water, poured over Moss's head, extinguishing all the burning anger. Abruptly, a breath of stale air was stuck in Moss's chest. He couldn't swallow it or spit it out. It was stuck in the middle, making him feel incredibly uncomfortable.
Finally, the sound of the window being slammed shut echoed, and Moss couldn't help but laugh, dumbfounded. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed. The more he thought about it, the funnier it was. He couldn't help but laugh heartily.
As a result, the window opened again. "Is he crazy? Should I call 911?"
Moss laughed out loud and was in the mood to reply, "No need. I just got cured." The fact that he could still joke meant that his emotions had truly recovered.
"If you're cured, then go home. It's raining. Time to take in the clothes," the staff member said, followed by another loud "bang" as the window was shut again.
Even so, Moss shouted, "Got it!"
Calming down, Moss stood there stunned for a moment and couldn't help but repeat softly, "It's not because you're not the 22-year-old Randy Moss anymore, but because the 22-year-old Randy Moss, relying on this style of play, still couldn't win a Super Bowl, not even on the 2007 New England Patriots."
Harsh words are a good medicine.
Different languages have similar sayings, just with different ways of expressing them. Lu Ke's words just now were incredibly harsh and sharp, but Moss had to admit that perhaps this was the best summary of his entire career.
He was Randy Moss, "that Randy Moss," unique and irreplaceable. He was like this before, and he was still like this now.
He always refused to change because he didn't need to change to conquer the field, the audience, and the opponents. His talent became a pass to the field, and his ability became a guarantee for a touchdown. Even Belichick would not overly force him to change because he was "Randy Moss." This name seemed to have become a flag that defined his existence.
Gradually, he formed a habit, firmly believing that he had his own unique way. He was different. He was one of a kind. Therefore, he could stick to his own path. As long as he could keep scoring touchdowns, this was the right way, and no one could criticize him.
But, in the end, he still couldn't win a Super Bowl ring. Just like Dan Marino, the Hall of Fame quarterback for the Miami Dolphins.
But he was not Marino.
Even if Marino didn't have a single ring, he was still one of the greatest players in the history of the league. The Miami Dolphins had won the Super Bowl twice in their history, but the historical status of those Super Bowl-winning heroes was not as high as Marino's because Marino almost single-handedly brought the Dolphins, who had once fallen to the bottom, into the championship race every year. His existence was the biggest bargaining chip for winning the championship.
In terms of passing, Marino left a series of impressive historical records that are still the goals of countless future generations. There is no doubt that Marino left his own colorful mark in the long river of history. So, what about him?
For the first time, Moss began to reflect on his own career.
During the year after his retirement, Moss could always feel a thought stirring in his heart. It was not just the idea of winning the Super Bowl, or the idea of chasing Jerry Rice. The specific content was unclear, but he just thought that he should go back to the field.
A year is both short and long. Unconsciously, his rough edges began to gradually become smoother. Maybe not, he still wouldn't and refused to change, but at least, he was willing to start reflecting on himself. Before, this would have been absolutely impossible.
Why? In his long career, why did he only play in one Super Bowl?
Was it because the team wasn't good enough? The 1998 Minnesota Vikings had a 15-1 record, and they were the number one seed in the league. The 2007 New England Patriots had a 16-0 record, and they were the number one seed in the league. The 2010 New England Patriots had a 14-2 record, and they were the number one seed in the league. This was at least three opportunities.
In addition, he and his teams made it to the playoffs six times in total, which was another three opportunities.
Was it because the coach was unwilling to give him a chance, or was it because his performance was not good enough? In the six seasons he made it to the playoffs, his lowest number of receptions was 69 and more. He was at the top of the teams and the league. And he had six 1,000-yard receiving seasons, which was definitely top-tier wide receiver data.
So, why?
Was it possible that he should change his style of play? But, would that mean he would no longer be himself, that he would no longer be "Randy Moss"?
He didn't know. Before, he didn't want to know. Now, he couldn't know.
Suddenly, Moss remembered that one catch in the second week of the regular season against the Detroit Lions. Both he and Kyle Williams could have made the catch, but with his way, a catch was just a catch. With Kyle Williams's way, a catch was a touchdown.
Maybe that was just one play, and it didn't mean anything, but... should he try to start changing?
"Randy Moss, why did you choose to come back?"
That number 14's voice echoed in his mind again, firm and candid, powerful and sharp, full of youthful vigor but also showing mature wisdom. A seemingly simple sentence made Moss chew on it carefully and exhale a long breath.
He turned his head and looked at the office building, which was still brightly lit. Harbaugh should still be in his office, and Harbaugh's car was the only one left in the parking lot. He could go upstairs now and have a heart-to-heart talk with Harbaugh, but after hesitating for a long time, Moss still turned around and walked toward his pickup truck.
Let's just leave it at this for tonight.
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