Same Boat (3)

(Gary Danielson — CBS Analyst)

"Good news for Alabama and their defense — DJ Dale, number 94, is back from injury."

(Brad Nessler — CBS Play-by-Play)

"A defensive tackle, six-three and 307 pounds. Facing Georgia's offense, it can't hurt to have one more good player on that side of the ball. But they gave up points on the very first possession. Let's see how they handle it this time. Zamir White is in the backfield with Dwayne Moi Stone."

Football is a sport where momentum means everything. The gap between high tide and low tide is enormous.

When Alabama's opening drive died without a score after barely two minutes, head coach Nick Saban's brain fired off an immediate crisis signal.

Georgia's 27-yard line. First & 10.

Darnell Washington lined up at the right end of the O-line to become a sixth lineman, while three receivers were bunched together on the left.

Bunch — and something else.

Both sides were set now, and across the field rang the voice of Dwayne Moi Stone calling out the play.

"Go Red 80—!! Ready!! Set!!"

An RPO — Run-Pass Option. Alabama's blitzing linebacker Will Anderson Jr. bit hard on the play fake.

There was no ball in the hand of Zamir White, who had been chasing the sweep, and only after running a few more steps past the quarterback did he realize it, stopping with a look of utter bewilderment.

Meanwhile, Dwayne Moi Stone shifted his body as if to bolt in the opposite direction.

But two more Alabama defenders had laid a trap exactly where he was headed. Linebacker Henry To'oTo'o charged at him first, and safety DeMarcco Hellams dropped back into coverage to guard against any worst-case scenario.

With the ball-carrier quarterback exposed to a charging linebacker, getting leveled felt like a foregone conclusion.

But then—

As if running it himself had all been a feint, Dwayne Moi Stone came to a sudden halt, gazed deep into Alabama territory, and let the ball fly.

There stood a Georgia ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠receiver competing for reps against the freshman Alabama had planted deepest on the bunch side.

The receiver's name was Jermaine Burton.

The best go-route runner on the team.

Chasing him for Alabama was a cornerback named Ga'Quincy McKinstry — a freshman known by his nickname, 'Kool-Aid'.

The instant the pass left Dwayne Moi Stone's hand, every eye in the stadium swung to follow the ball.

Before long the pass dropped between the two players, and the moment it bounced out of bounds, a wave of relief swept through Alabama's sideline.

But it didn't last.

The official near the sideline hurled a yellow flag onto the field, and the back judge stationed in the end zone promptly threw another.

"You have got to be kidding me. Not right now."

Disappointment spilled from the mouth of an Alabama O-lineman who'd believed the defense had held, and after reviewing the call, head referee Ken Williams gave his ruling.

Maybe it was the lesser evil after all?

Nick Saban deliberated for a moment. It would have been far better to defend cleanly without drawing a flag — but had they done that, the catch might have been allowed anyway.

Jermaine Burton had gone down near Alabama's 20-yard line, and had the receiver stayed on his feet, that play could have gone straight to the house for a touchdown.

But another thought shoved all of that aside in Nick Saban's head, fast.

Dwayne Moi Stone was running absolutely wild out there.

He'd done it on the opening drive, and this attempt too was a play that could never have happened unless he'd read Alabama's defensive movement outright.

The core of Alabama's defense was the signal-calling of number 8, Christian Harris — and that voice was getting drowned out again and again.

At the 42-yard line, midfield. First & 10.

This time Alabama's defense finally got home and collapsed the pocket, but Dwayne Moi Stone scrambled instantly, slipping free of the threat with room to spare and delivering the pass.

A throw that fell just short of a first down.

Still, it moved the chains nine yards closer.

"…."

(Brad Nessler)

"Even against Alabama, Dwayne Moi Stone's momentum shows no sign of cooling. He's completed all five of his passes so far and has picked up yardage on every single snap — which means this kid has yet to fail once while running this offense. Remarkable."

Since the current pillars of the defense had enrolled at Alabama, Nick Saban had forged a new philosophy together with men like Pete Golding, Charles Kelly, Sal Sunseri, and Freddie Roach.

He'd converted the old 4-3 base into a nickel shell — a 4-2-5 or 3-3-5 — and believed he'd built a unit that, even if not the nation's very best, would feel suffocatingly difficult for any team on any given Saturday.

Yet ever since last year, whenever Georgia was the opponent, the cracks in his defense became nakedly, mercilessly visible.

Nick Saban found himself doubting again. Truly — was it really this bad?

Are we really only this much?

Dwayne Moi Stone, lined up under center, handed the ball to James Cook, and the running back on a jet sweep from the right slot cut left and picked up seven more yards.

First down again.

Alabama, completely failing to control Dwayne Moi Stone and Georgia's offense, was now rapidly losing its grip on the game.

All season we'd marched to an absurd drumbeat — over 250 points of scoring margin in the second quarter alone, numbers that defied common sense.

But today, that reputation was nowhere to be found.

Our defense had suddenly gone soft.

Football being a game of momentum, Alabama's defenders — riding the high their offense had built — were pressing harder and harder with every snap.

And that made the end of the first quarter sting all the more, over and over in my head.

The missed 35-yard field goal loomed enormous.

That first slip snowballed into a trio of penalties born of lost focus on our first defensive series of the second quarter — twenty-five free yards handed over — followed by an easy touchdown.

On the ensuing possession, Zamir coughed up the ball, and after the turnover we gave up points again, letting the game slip to a tie.

We managed to claw together a scoring drive and drag our wobbly offense into the end zone, but the truth was the game had become dead even.

With halftime moments away, our try at Alabama's 22-yard line came up empty. Judging there was nothing left to gain, I grabbed my helmet and sprinted for the locker room.

Everyone else was doing the same.

A single missed field goal, something that should have meant nothing, had triggered an avalanche — my second interception of the season included.

Not that I blamed Podlesny or intended to pin it on him — not for one second — but ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠regretting it? That much was simply true.

"ALL RIGHT, LISTEN UP!!"

"…."

"…."

The moment Coach walked into the locker room, the room snapped into order.

"We should have done better out there!"

Yeah.

No argument here.

At the very least, we should have cashed in ten more points and held Alabama's offense to seven, max.

Whether they were a good team had nothing to do with it.

The early momentum had been clearly ours, and Alabama's defense had wobbled so badly that Nick Saban had been forced to reshuffle his personnel on the field.

We should have kept hammering them right then — but a would-be touchdown pass became a drop, the drop became a field goal attempt, and the attempt failed.

We're the ones who have to stand before physical pain and fear on every single snap, so the moment courage or focus wavers even slightly, the damage snowballs like a rolling ball of snow.

Halftime.

This was the moment to hold the team together.

In football, nothing reveals a head coach's true reserves and capability like the moment he steadies a shaking team.

And Head Coach Kirby Smart—

he's one of the very best in the world at exactly that.

Everything riding on it.

"I know. I know the flow's getting a little delicate right now. But we're still the ones holding it. You hear me? We lead 21 to 14. If we walk back out there, win the first defensive stand of the half, and put points on the board after it, that feeling you've got right now will be running scared and nowhere to be found. Understood? That's why the first stop of the third quarter matters."

"…."

"…."

"If any part of you doubts we can do it, remember just this one thing! We are special! The only reason we're standing here is because we're special! And the reason we're special is Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday — and today. We have always done the work the right way! AD! You did the work right on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday! Jordan! You did the work right on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday! And it's the same for everyone else! Lewis!Rad— Ladd! Brock! MOI!"

"…."

"Nobody in this room knows how to do this job better than we do! If that's not how it feels, turn your head and look at me on that sideline! I guarantee it! And look at the rest of them! Every single one of them will guarantee it too! The game plan is always simple! We are a damn good football team, and we're going to make those boys look like fools! Now what did I say? We are a DAMN good football team!!"

I love moments like this.

Not that I'd gotten to see one all season, mind you.

Kirby Smart really is a hell of a college football coach.

He's going to be great — no, he already took the first step toward greatness just now.

The air that had sunk like a stone blew clean out of the room, and following our coach's lead, we rose from our benches roaring the same battle cry — we're going to make those boys look like fools.

A howl spitting out heat and suffocation dominated the locker room, and just as it faded, Coach pulled us back into focus.

"Remember this, all of you! I love every one of you! Your fight! Your effort! Every part of you that gives itself for me and for your brothers! When we love each other and trust each other — there is no team on this planet that can beat us on that field! So walk out there with your heads up and smiles on your faces! Today! We stand on top of the SEC once again! That's the first step!"

"AAAAAHHHH—!!!"

"LET'S GO!!!"

By the time we'd regrouped and sprinted back onto the field, we felt exactly as we had at the peak of our momentum.

The only catch — Alabama would be just as fired up, so it wouldn't be nearly as easy as the opening quarter had been.

Which is why I had to say a word of my own.

I gathered the whole team — offense, defense, everyone.

"What did I say earlier!! You remember?! We walk out of here as CHAMPIONS!! But that only counts if we WIN!! FEEL ME?!! Don't you dare let them turn us into a beaten, broken army!! Take every single chance!! Offense!! Lock in!! Defense!! Make the tackle!! Nobody on this goddamn field today is stronger than we are!! TODAY!! WE WIN TOGETHER!! OR WE LOSE TOGETHER!! So which is it gonna be?!! We're on the same boat right now!! You hear me?!! We are riding the same goddamn boat!! SAME BOAT!! So do your damn job!! And by the way—"

"?"

"??"

"I don't love you guys."

"Pfffhahahaha. You absolute lunatic."

Yeah—

I know I'm a crazy bastard.

You all know it too, don't you?

By the time I'd finished talking, I could see my teammates were ready, and I lifted my chin one last time and roared.

"BULLDOGS!!!!"

"WOOF!!!"

"WOOF!!!"

"SAY IT!! I'M HIM!!!"

"I'M HIM!!!!"

"Now let's go kill those motherf—ers!!!!"

If the process had been beautiful, it might have earned praise on its own merits — but process and effort without results to back them can't score above a 50, no matter how generously you grade.

"We worked hard this time, so we'll get them next time" is a line that only holds water in the amateur world.

Or in the world of minors, I suppose.

After halftime ended and just before the third quarter began, a fan named Jordan Morris posted that video to Twitter, and it detonated across the internet, setting the whole world ablaze.

And the reason it was even possible—

"That kid is out of his mind."

"HOW?"

— was because the Georgia Bulldogs had bounced back in the third quarter and were flattening Alabama.

Georgia smothered the first drive of the half, then immediately manufactured a 27-yard touchdown from Jordan Addison and the season's first touchdown catch from George Pickens.

The drive spanned thirteen plays in total, split perfectly between six runs and seven passes.

George Pickens' touchdown in particular came on a pass that traveled a whopping 54 yards through the air.

In the GM's office, where the Atlanta Falcons front office had gathered to watch the SEC Championship, exclamations erupted in unison.

.

.

"We need that kid, Terry."

"…Yeah. I know."

Though Alabama's underlying defensive metrics merely ranked upper-tier, they were fundamentally a team that had spent the last dozen years stockpiling the nation's finest talent.

Granted, their numbers had sagged because of personnel combinations and tactical issues — but there was no denying the individual quality on that roster.

They had maybe three players who'd hear their names called before day two of next year's NFL Draft.

Of course, that paled next to Georgia, where you could hear people say the entire starting defense could be transplanted onto an NFL roster as-is — Georgia was the abnormal one, and Alabama was thoroughly ordinary by comparison.

And yet against that Alabama, Dwayne Moi Stone had run wild and completed four touchdown passes, proving beyond all doubt that he was built to a different specification.

And in effect, the Heisman was his too.

Back to back years now.

Terry Fontenot, eyes glued to the TV, recalled the note he'd received a few days earlier.

A trade of the starting quarterback.

As it happened, only people he could trust were in the GM's office right now, and Fontenot judged this the perfect moment to float the idea.

"I have one question for you."

"Out of nowhere?"

"Go ahead, Terry."

Fontenot took his feet off the desk, walked over to the whiteboard in the corner of the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠office, and picked up a marker.

Then he wrote a single sentence.

Everyone who read it felt their pupils dilate, and exhaling low, Fontenot set the marker down and laid out what had been happening behind closed doors.

He had persuaded Rich McKay, who'd been dragging his feet on tanking, and decided to trade Matt Ryan — the lone holdout against it — in pursuit of the number one overall pick in 2023.

If it happened, the fans would erupt in fury. But Matt Ryan's contract ran out after the 2022 season anyway.

Drafted in 2008 as the successor to Michael Vick, who'd gone to prison in the dogfighting scandal, Ryan had given fourteen years of devoted service to the team.

The Iron Man — he'd missed only three games in all that time.

He'd never lifted a Lombardi, but with an MVP on his résumé, Matt Ryan had been a genuinely great quarterback.

Now in his mid-thirties, he might well retire when this contract ended — and precisely because of that, the fans would never be able to stomach trading him.

But—

"There's no doubt we'll catch holy hell for it. And if we fail to land that number one pick in 2023, we might as well strip naked and walk out of this building. But I believe the time to choose has come."

"…."

"…."

"Will you join me in making this team worse?"

Here was a man inviting him aboard the same boat — in a slightly different sense than Dwayne Moi Stone meant it.

The Falcons had finally entered the race.

I wanted to applaud the effort Alabama's defense put in during the final quarter.

Two sacks and one heart-stopping near-interception included — Alabama's defenders threw everything they had into stopping our advance.

At ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the same time, it exposed one of our own weaknesses: a lack of reliable receivers in big moments.

Three of the four receivers with the most snaps this season were freshmen, and our true No. 1 had torn his ACL over the summer and, since returning recently, had been playing it cautious.

Which left exactly one man.

Jordan Addison, and Jordan Addison alone.

Frankly, the game was already decided — but I wanted to drive the stake in clean.

Red zone, 14 yards out. Second & 7.

With 2-2 PG and only Jordan lined up wide right, the formation was textbook — and I pulled out the running concept I'd been saving for exactly this day.

Codename: Double Pilot.

A variation of Wingman.

Formation: shotgun.

I barked the play call.

"Go Red 80!! Ready—!! Set!!"

The instant the snap hit my hands, Kendall Milton on the left charged toward the line of scrimmage.

And I handed the ball to James Cook.

Normally, that's where a quarterback's job would end — but while James Cook took the handoff and hesitated for a beat, I took off forward, and a moment later he glued himself in behind me.

The O-linemen executed their assigned blocks first, carving open a gap, and I plunged through it ahead of everyone.

Alabama's defense, dead ahead.

Number 8.

Christian Harris.

Into the heart of Alabama's defense, I ran without a flicker of fear and slammed into him.

CRACK!!

Honestly?

Light.

Linebacker or not, Harris was listed at 6-1, 220 pounds — a whole world smaller and lighter than me.

Shoving Christian Harris sideways without the slightest trouble opened a lane behind the LoS, and James Cook strode straight into the end zone.

Touchdown.

"YEAH!!! THAT'S IT!!!"

The moment the points went up I jumped for joy, then sprinted to James Cook and crashed into him midair.

I imagine a lot of people watching were thinking the same thing.

What in the world was THAT?

(Brad Nessler)

"What the heck is that?! What am I even looking at?! Dwayne Moi Stone just threw a brand-new kind of block!! He's the QUARTERBACK!! And he just—"

Things like my sturdy, well-built frame and my natural raw strength were probably far more useful at the professional level than in college.

Just like Lamar Jackson — in the NFL, where defensive talent is a whole tier higher, a quarterback's versatility is a genuine weapon.

The reason dual-threat QBs struggle isn't their athleticism; it's that their baseline quarterback skills lag far behind. The variables their athleticism creates, though, remain plenty valuable even at the pro level.

Sophomore year of college.

I didn't want to let that weapon sit gathering dust — which is why my friends and I built concepts like Wingman, and now this Double Pilot play.

"ALL DAY!! ALL— DAY!!!"

"Let's Go—!!"

Flaunting my strength and muscle to my heart's content, I jogged to the sideline shouting that I could go all day.

The first points of the fourth quarter, finally manufactured.

We'd driven the stake clean into Alabama's heart.

(Gary Danielson)

"This is exactly what makes Dwayne Moi Stone special. This young man doesn't confine that enormous body of his to a quarterback's duties. At times he's a running back, and at times — like right there — he does the dirty work you'd expect from linemen or a tight end."

(Brad Nessler)

"Back to back — the Georgia Bulldogs are one step away from an SEC Championship. And at the very center of it all stands this young man. Dwayne Moi Stone."