American Football: Domination

"I'm shipping up to Boston, whoa!"

"I'm shipping up to Boston, whoa!"

Above Gillette Stadium, the frigid wind howled, and the unified voices of the Patriots' fans roared like a coiling dragon, dominating the stadium and gazing down upon the battlefield.

This scene—eerily familiar.

Season opener: The Chiefs led the game and controlled possession. Their offense needed to run out the clock, keeping Brady stuck on the bench and marching toward victory.

Divisional Round: The roles were reversed. The Patriots held the lead and possession, looking to drain the clock and deny the Chiefs' offense another chance—securing the win on their own terms.

Same scenario, opposite sides. The tension skyrocketed.

In the first half, this game had been a one-sided affair. The Patriots methodically dominated, making Foxborough's legendary playoff atmosphere seem inevitable.

But then—everything changed.

The Chiefs fought back.

Step by step, they clawed their way back into contention. Now, the game hung in the balance, and every neutral fan watching on TV had one thought in mind—

"This just got real."

2:45 left on the clock.

The possibilities were endless.

With three timeouts still in play for both coaches, anything could happen.

For the Patriots to end the game on Brady's terms, they needed at least two first downs.

One might be enough—but it wouldn't guarantee victory.

If they failed, the Chiefs would get the ball back with a chance to steal the game.

So—what would Belichick do?

The Patriots had just been picked off for a defensive touchdown. Now, Brady had to respond with no time to reset.

Pass-heavy offense?

Stay aggressive, move downfield quickly, and secure at least a field goal—ending the Chiefs' hopes.

Ground game?

Play it safe, burn the clock, and force the Chiefs to take risks instead.

The first choice—risky.

The second—too conservative.

And after just suffering a pick-six, the decision became even tougher.

For Houston, however—there was no debate.

There was no time for hesitation, fear, or doubt.

No retreat.

The Chiefs' defense had to go all in.

One hundred percent commitment. One hundred percent fight.

"Attack!"

Brady called the snap.

Houston's eyes locked onto Brady, his vision narrowing as the battle in the trenches slowed down in his mind.

Through the chaos, he spotted Brady turning—

A handoff?

Made sense. The Patriots didn't need to force anything.

But Houston didn't care.

His mind was made up before the play even began.

Blitz.

No matter what the Patriots planned, he would bring the fight to them.

Feet planted. Burst forward. Eyes sharp.

Then—

Opportunity.

The Patriots weren't running the ball.

Belichick still trusted Brady, choosing to seize control rather than play it safe.

Houston noticed the offensive line's stance.

If they were truly running the ball, the line would have crashed inward, creating a clogged center to drain the clock.

But—they didn't.

They lined up for pass protection.

Houston's instincts screamed at him.

He saw the opening.

Three-man rush.

All season long, the Chiefs' D-line had come up big in crucial moments.

Even with just three rushers, they collapsed the pocket.

Sprint. Jump. Slip through.

Through the desperate eyes of the Patriots' O-linemen, Houston soared past them—

Like a knife through butter.

One foot down. Both arms extended.

Brady—caught.

For a split second, Brady froze.

He hadn't expected the pocket to collapse this quickly.

He was still backpedaling, scanning for an open target—

And now, there was no time.

Their eyes met—

Brady saw a predator staring back.

Cold. Calculating. Merciless.

Nowhere to run.

Brady tried to scramble away, pushing his body to its limits—

But Houston?

"Not happening."

No hesitation. No mercy.

One step. Two steps. Leap. Tackle.

CRASH.

Brady—sacked.

"SACK!"

"OH MY GOD, SACK!"

"WOW! UNBELIEVABLE!"

"Just like the last drive! Almost an identical sequence! The Chiefs' defense—relentless, unshaken, and dialed in."

"They read the Patriots' play perfectly, exposing Belichick's plan to steal a quick first down. The Kansas City defensive line utterly dismantled New England's struggling protection."

"Revis last time. Now, it's Houston."

"This… This does NOT happen to the Patriots."

"Making the same mistake twice? Two sacks in less than two minutes?"

"Their offensive line is crumbling."

"And now, New England faces a serious dilemma."

"They NEED first downs."

"They NEED to drain the clock."

"But how are they going to do it?"

"All the pressure—

Falls on Brady."

Belichick Moves First.

Nantz wrapped up his analysis.

Romo added one final note.

"If it were me?" Romo smirked. "I wouldn't underestimate Brady."

His tone—

Chilling.

But before they could dive deeper, the game took another shocking turn—

The Patriots went all-in.

Belichick bet it all.

A warlord by nature, Belichick wasn't afraid of calculated risks.

With their lead still intact, the Patriots had room to gamble.

And wasting that advantage?

Unthinkable.

So—he called it.

A deep shot.

A long pass.

UNREAL.

Unbelievable. Incomprehensible.

A deep pass in this situation?

The stadium fell silent.

The Old Oak Tavern froze.

All eyes tracked the ball—

Brady… had done it again.

A warrior's sword, drawn.

A cannonball, fired.

The football soared through the freezing air, cutting across the night sky—

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Powerstones?

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