Chapter 353 - 229: God’s Script Is Already Written
December was just around the corner, and the late autumn chill had plunged the temperature in East Rutherford, New Jersey, to freezing.
For the past two weeks, the sunshades in the stadium’s parking lot had been replaced with waterproof, insulated tents. Inside, high-powered heaters were set up, drawing in wave after wave of fans like bonfires.
Vendors had taken sunscreen and short-sleeved shirts off their shelves, replacing them with hand warmers, ponchos, winter hats, and heated seat cushions.
Even the tough-as-nails Americans, who insisted on never drinking hot water, rarely opted for ice-cold beer in this weather.
Hot cocoa, hot tea, and hot Americanos with a lethal amount of sugar were their favorites now.
For most vendors, winter sales were more than 50% better than in the summer.
In stark contrast to the cold weather was the fans’ fiery passion. The freezing temperatures hadn’t affected ticket sales for MetLife Stadium in the slightest. The entire venue was packed, a sea of deep blue that overwhelmed the die-hard Eagles fans who had traveled all the way from Philadelphia.
However, the fans’ enthusiasm couldn’t light a fire in the broadcast booth miles away.
In the panoramic studio, the expressions on the faces of Fox Sports’s golden commentary duo, Joe Buck and Troy Aikman, were extremely odd.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this week’s game of the week," Joe Buck said, his brow furrowed as he looked at the starting roster in his hand. "Troy, tell me it’s not April Fools’ Day."
"No, it’s not April Fools’ Day."
"Then why would the Giants submit a 53-man roster and starting lineup like this? I thought it was April Fools’ and the Giants were playing a prank on me."
He shook the tablet in his hand. "The starting left tackle, the center, and even Dexter Lawrence from the defensive line and two starting cornerbacks are all on the inactive list!"
"I’m baffled too, Joe," Troy said, his expression just as grim. "Replacing them are three career backups and even an undrafted rookie promoted from the practice squad."
"You know, it’s no secret that the major broadcasters and Las Vegas bookmakers have been protesting how Li Wei ’ends the game’s suspense too early,’" Joe Buck said, a hint of emotion creeping into his voice. "Now that they’ve locked up a playoff spot, are the Giants just going to start using games for practice again?"
He said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
「Meanwhile, inside the luxurious owner’s box at the top of MetLife Stadium.」
Unlike the fans shivering in the cold, the temperature here was a constant seventy-five degrees. As the place where John Mara entertained his most important guests, fine cigars and aged single malt whiskeys were in unlimited supply.
And the people sitting in the box could be described as the titans who controlled half the sports and gambling world in the United States of America.
Besides John Mara in the host’s seat and Don Quixote, who was quietly savoring his drink on the sofa, the room also held the owner of the Philadelphia Eagles, two NFL Alliance vice presidents in charge of television broadcasting and commercial development, two partners representing the joint Las Vegas casino syndicate, and the head of the largest online casino.
"A wise choice, John," one of the Las Vegas partners said, raising his crystal glass in a toast to John Mara. "Resting your starters protects the players, but you still have Li Wei playing to keep the suspense alive for the second half."
The VP of broadcasting nodded. "Indeed, John. You have to understand the league’s difficult position. While Li Wei’s dominance has brought your Giants ticket sales and a higher valuation, from a long-term perspective for NFL sports broadcasting, he’s actually poison."
The owner of the Philadelphia Eagles didn’t say anything, but the look on his face expressed his agreement.
Although the Philadelphia Eagles were a formidable team, no one felt confident facing a monster who could shut down Mahomes to the point of a mental breakdown.
Now that the Giants had crippled themselves, leaving Li Wei to stand on the field almost alone against the powerful Philadelphia Eagles, a loss at home that would shatter their undefeated streak would undoubtedly be a win-win for everyone else.
Everyone believed this was a tacit exchange of interests. John Mara, with that patchwork roster of backups, had already offered his pledge of allegiance—a clear sign of his surrender.
However, John Mara himself didn’t seem to see it that way.
"Heh," he sneered. "I never agreed to your terms."
At his words, everyone froze.
The Las Vegas partners stopped their conversation and turned to look at John Mara.
"John, what’s the meaning of this?" the Eagles owner asked, his brow knitting. He tore his gaze away from the two live-feed televisions and stared intently at John Mara. "You changed your starting lineup yourself, and you invited us here to watch. Don’t tell me you have some new strategy up your sleeve?"
"It’s not exactly a new strategy," John Mara said, shaking his head helplessly. "It’s just that... I agreed, but my player didn’t."
"Tch," the Philadelphia Eagles owner scoffed, then broke into a loud laugh. "John, oh John. You’ve really gone senile. It looks to me like you can’t even control your own player, letting him run wild like this."
"Since Li Wei doesn’t want to rest," one of the casino partners added coolly, "then let’s just force him to rest for a while."
With that, he raised his glass and toasted Don Quixote.
"My apologies, Don Quixote Cervantes. This is just business," he said. "It’s nothing personal against your client."
Don Quixote’s expression didn’t change. Instead, he casually downed the drink in his glass in one go.
"I think it’s a bit premature to assume my client is going to lose," he said, smacking his lips and turning to face them. "Perhaps the outcome of the game will be different."
"Even Tom Brady would get torn to shreds without pocket protection," the head of the online casino said coldly. "No matter how strong Mr. Li Wei is, he can’t defy the league."
"Let’s wait and see," John Mara said, also picking up his whiskey. "If he alone is as good as an entire team, then your threats are useless."
"Who knows, maybe we’ll actually go on a 17-game winning streak this year, march all the way into the playoffs, and bring the Super Bowl trophy back to New York while we’re at it."
He said it half-jokingly, but a sharp glint flashed in his cloudy eyes.
Hearing this, the bigwigs in the box looked at each other, then burst into unconcealed, uproarious laughter.
"John, not only have you gone senile, but you should also get your head checked," the Philadelphia Eagles owner said, shaking his head as he laughed and snipped the end off a cigar. "Don’t forget, football isn’t a one-man sport. Even if he really is some kind of yellow-skinned God, he can still be dragged down by mortals."
"Besides," the partner in charge of the physical casinos added, exhaling a smoke ring, "we’ve already written God’s script. There can’t be any mistakes today. On that field, some ’accidents’ are unavoidable."
Don Quixote’s eyes narrowed slightly at those words, but he didn’t react, simply turning his gaze back to the green field below.
With a blast of the head referee’s whistle, the highly anticipated and dangerously undercurrent-filled game officially began.
The Philadelphia Eagles kicked off first, giving the New York Giants possession of the ball.
Li Wei, wearing his blue helmet, stood in the Quarterback position. In front of him was the patched-together backup offensive line, a group that hadn’t even had time to get their play calls in sync.
The Giants’ original offensive line could only be described as anthropomorphic; they weren’t quite human yet.
Now, with the backups in, it was like an old lady on laxatives—a total shitshow.
"Alright, the game is underway! Li Wei has the ball!" In the broadcast booth, Joe Buck stared intently at the screen. "Let’s see how much time this makeshift offensive line can buy him... My God! They’re shattered! Like a cookie stomped on by an elephant, the Giants’ pocket protection completely collapsed the instant the ball was snapped!"
Troy Aikman also cried out, "That’s terrible! The Philadelphia Eagles flattened the Giants’ center and right guard with practically no effort!"
On the field, in less than five seconds, a wide-open path appeared before Li Wei—for the Eagles’ defensive players, that is.
An Eagles linebacker charged straight at Li Wei. When he was about three yards away, a strange look flashed in his eyes under his helmet. He then dove low with incredible speed, his whole body like a massive bowling ball, hurtling toward Li Wei’s legs.
If that hit landed, it would have shattered Li Wei’s ACL and meniscus, enough to end his career on the spot!
But for Li Wei, his movements were too slow, and his intentions were far too obvious.
With a slight twist of his body, Li Wei brushed past the linebacker, simultaneously flicking his right arm and firing the football precisely into the hands of a wide receiver running a route 30 yards downfield.
First down!
"A beautiful dodge! An incredible pass!" Joe Buck yelled in the broadcast booth, his voice full of anger. "But wait! That move by the Eagles linebacker! Troy, you used to be a Quarterback, tell me, wasn’t that an incredibly dirty hit to the knees?"
"It sure looks like it to me," Troy said, his expression darker than usual. "Let’s see what the referee’s call is."
The 80,000-plus die-hard Giants fans inside MetLife Stadium also saw the slow-motion replay on the big screen.
After seeing the replay, the Giants fans in the stands erupted in earth-shattering boos. In the buffer zones, countless hot cocoas and popcorn boxes were hurled toward the sidelines.
"Throw the flag! Are you fucking blind?!"
"Yellow flag! Eject that dirty bastard!"
However, the head referee, who was less than 10 yards from the incident, gave Li Wei a deep look, then pressed his hands down, signaling for the game to continue. The yellow penalty flag at his waist remained firmly tucked in his pocket, with no sign of it coming out.
"Tsk!"
In the box, the NFL’s VP of broadcasting took a sip of his whiskey and shook his head, looking rather disappointed.
Don Quixote gave him an inscrutable look, then leaned over to John Mara and whispered something in his ear.