"Wow, Roethlisberger!"
"Who could have imagined that the first touchdown of the second half would come from Roethlisberger? This is a scene nobody predicted before the season opener."
"But—"
"The Pittsburgh Steelers have taken the lead!"
"Indeed, you can never predict the outcome until the final whistle."
Schemes, calculations, mind games—
The Steelers finally unveiled the sharpened fangs they had been refining all offseason.
Oh yeah!
Tomlin clenched his fists tightly in celebration, rare emotion flashing across his face. He looked across the field at his opponent, eyes burning with fire—the belief in victory and the will to win were blazing fiercely.
This game could only be won, not lost.
There was no other option.
Tomlin knew Bell was watching. The front office was watching. Everyone around the league—connected or not—was watching.
The Steelers had taken a hard and uncompromising stance toward a top-tier running back like Bell. Putting league politics aside—was that a wise decision?
Yes, the season opener is only one game and can't decide the entire season's direction. But the pressure of this match was enormous; the result might determine the team's momentum for a series of games to come.
They had to win.
Yet, the Kansas City Chiefs were not easy prey. From offense to defense, they had transformed completely. Fueled by the burning blood of youth, each player seemed eager to burst forth. The new season's opener had pushed Tomlin into a desperate situation.
He had no choice but to unleash his hidden aces—
Some of these were supposed to be secret weapons saved for Week 4's division rivalry against the Baltimore Ravens. But he brought them out early.
Still, he had no choice.
"Steelers vs. Ravens" was a vital matchup, but so was the season opener.
"Ah. Ahhh!"
Tomlin roared, letting out his stress for the first time since the game began.
The release was short-lived.
He quickly regained his composure and continued commanding his squad.
Tomlin understood Reid's coaching prowess. He knew the potential of this Chiefs team. And this was Arrowhead Stadium—the defending champions were surging with momentum. Any slight lapse could swing the tide. They had to strike while the iron was hot and keep pressing their advantage.
Starting with the special teams—
This, too, was from the bottom of the bag.
"Beautiful!"
"Clearly, this kickoff was carefully designed and calculated by the Steelers."
"The visiting team intentionally kicked short and forced a squib kick to disrupt the returner's catch. Meanwhile, the coverage team closed in fast to tackle and deny the return attempt, letting the ball continue rolling."
"In the end—"
"The football stopped at the five-yard line."
"Wow, what a brilliant surprise play. Even after halftime, the Steelers are maintaining complete control over the game tempo."
"Now the Chiefs' offense must start from their own five-yard line—a tough spot for the defending champs."
The situation was tightening.
The Steelers were on the offensive, making bold moves and grabbing the momentum.
The Chiefs were being dragged into their rhythm and now had to adapt on the fly—another test of Reid's on-the-spot decision-making.
Near the end zone, the five-yard line.
This meant Mahomes had to line up near the goal line. Lance could line up parallel or behind him, but in this position, no matter the play, their options were limited. Caution was paramount.
The Chiefs' answer—
A two-running-back formation.
Lance and Hunt both took the field.
Most teams use a dual-running-back set for coordinated running plays—block and release, misdirection, etc. Ultimately, it's all about rushing.
But the Chiefs were different. Both Lance and Hunt were dual-threat backs—capable of running and receiving. That opened up the playbook, especially in a constrained space near the end zone.
And the Steelers had to ask a critical question:
Is Lance the decoy, or the one with the ball?
Tension spiked. Both teams clustered near the Chiefs' end zone line. Space was tight and tempers taut.
Then—
Snap.
Steelers cornerback Artie Burns was holding his breath. From the first quarter onward, he had been tormented by Lance and Kelce, bullied by bigger opponents despite being a corner. Even in the second quarter, he couldn't catch a break.
It felt like he was the only one playing a different game—a brutal solo match.
That feeling sucked.
He wanted payback. He wasn't some doormat—he should be the one holding the whip in this game.
Now, his chance had come.
Burns didn't care what smoke-and-mirrors play the Chiefs were running. On his side, whether it was Lance or Hunt, he was going to pounce—full force, tiger style.
"Attack!"
With a shout, Burns shoved Kelce aside and blitzed across the line.
A blitz!
The Steelers' defensive plan had one goal—
Surprise.
First, they hadn't blitzed in the second quarter at all. Now they aimed to shock.
Second, field position was ideal—right at the edge of the end zone. A perfect defensive opportunity.
So, with brute force, they rushed all in.
Overwhelming!
Burns was charging forward when Kelce's fake move caused a slight stumble. In that moment, a shadow zipped past him from the right. He barely caught a glimpse of movement—
Morgan Burnett, the safety signed from the Packers, now playing nickelback, was shadowing Lance.
Burnett didn't hang back waiting for Lance to catch a short pass like before. This time, he exploded forward, crossing the line and heading straight for the end zone.
Burns: Dammit, he's stealing my glory.
Not to be outdone, Burns accelerated too. Both charged into the end zone.
Target: Lance?
No—Hunt.
The other side had Lance triple-covered. The Chiefs expected this focus and used Lance as a decoy. Mahomes handed the ball to Hunt—
Reid couldn't be blamed for being cautious.
Mahomes had struggled in the second quarter—poor accuracy, bad reads. He was still young, still developing. Coming out of halftime, he still looked dazed. Better to hand off to a running back and let him power out of the end zone.
At least gain three to five yards and escape the danger zone.
Hunt took a deep breath. His eyes lit up—this was his chance to prove himself, to show he was just as good as Lance or Bell.
He bent his knees, dropped his shoulders, and pushed off the turf—
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Powerstones?
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