Mac Jones Who?

(Brad Nessler)

"Alabama brings the blitz—but the pass gets off. Big Guy! Caught by Tre' McKitty, and Georgia keeps moving the chains. First down, Georgia."

As I said.

The key to any blitz is speed.

You have to send a defender shooting through the offensive line and bury the quarterback before the receivers can reach the spots where they're meant to catch the ball. To that end, defenses scheme up every kind of tactic.

Cover.

Fire.

Hall, Sam & Will, and so on.

The fine details may shift depending on the personnel and the head coach's temperament, but the foundational elements—the equivalent of the I-formation or the shotgun on offense—never change.

What I was trying to decode, right here and now, was exactly that foundation.

For instance.

Is the defense sending every linebacker crashing at the quarterback and pulling the safeties up with them?

Then it's a cover blitz. Counter with the running back or a screen pass.

Are the outside linebackers stacked together with the defensive tackles, ready to bury me from both flanks?

That's a Sam & Will blitz. Attack it head-on.

Once you've roughed out your responses like that, calling audibles at the line of scrimmage becomes second nature.

And right now….

"YOGA!! YOGA!!"

After I checked the alignment of Alabama's defenders.

I called an audible yet again.

This time, the cornerbacks weren't pressing our wide receivers—they'd set up a shade inside instead. It looked like a fire blitz, the kind designed to keep the corners hovering near the line of scrimmage and bat the pass down at the source.

So I pushed both wide receivers further toward the sideline, and Alabama's No. 8, Christian Harris, scrambled to raise his voice and adjust his corners' positioning.

The fire blitz was broken.

Then—what do we do?

"Red 20!! Set!! Hut!!"

Broken plans or not.

Alabama's blitz kept coming.

Thud!

Crack!

This time their safety's movement was too good to risk a throw, and as I held the ball, Alabama's No. 4 dropped me with a violent tackle.

"You like that?! You LIKE that, huh?!!"

Christopher Allen, fresh off the sack, started spitting at my helmet.

Of course I had to run into the biggest one on the field.

Fine, I hear you—now get off me.

You're in the way.

Even as I worked to dismantle them, I was unmistakably getting sacked more often.

That alone proves blitzes work. Some quarterbacks shrink after taking hits, the pain making them hesitant on every snap.

Not me.

I was ready to enjoy the pain.

Ever since the day I was reborn.

"How much did we lose?"

"Five yards?"

"Damn it. Let's go again."

A sack costs you a down.

And losing yardage on top of it makes it that much worse.

The pocket forms three to six yards behind the line of scrimmage, and we'd just handed five of them right back.

Second & 15.

"Hoo—"

Alabama dropped an extra defender to the right.

So I sent Kitty left.

Alabama's No. 3, Daniel Wright, slid down into the linebacker spot, while DeMarco Hellams—normally assigned to the slot receiver—dropped way back and played deep.

I told Milton, standing beside me, to fake the handoff and sprint right.

"Set!! Hut!!"

Snap!

Shotgun formation.

I took the snap, faked the give to Milton, then tucked the ball into my arm, escaped the pocket, and took off after him.

Alabama's No. 31, Will Anderson Jr., bit on Milton first.

The two of them collided.

And I took off running right behind them.

(Brad Nessler)

"Moi keeps it himself! Hellams is in pursuit—stiff arm! He goes down in the end, but FIRST DOWN! Dwayne Moi Stone! He just paid back that sack in full!"

(Gary Danielson) – CBS Analyst

"He's answering Alabama's blitz packages with astonishing composure. He does lose yardage at times, but somehow he keeps converting first downs."

(Brad Nessler)

"Georgia is now approaching the 38-yard line. Kirby Smart will be content with at least a field goal here."

Securing that first down mattered because we had finally punched into Alabama's territory.

From here on out, they can't afford to keep blitzing.

One mistake, and it's a touchdown.

But blitzes weren't the only weapon they had.

Pass rush, for one.

Alabama's left D-line is regarded as the finest pass-rushing unit in the country, and in situations like this they love to shoot a middle linebacker through the gaps of the offensive line to hunt for the sack.

Given how their tactical approach had held steady all game.

Nine times out of ten, this would be a pass rush.

Of course.

The sideline knew it too.

"Roadrunner."

Roadrunner is a rushing scheme built around James Cook, the fastest running back on our roster.

Unlike Cooking Time.

This one's a screen pass.

From the shotgun, once I make the call, Cook will release toward the right sideline, and I have to deliver a fast, accurate ball to that spot.

"Set!! Hut!!"

Snap!!

The moment the play was called.

Alabama did exactly as expected—they chose pass rush.

Christian Harris came barreling at me.

Figures.

This is going to hurt like hell again.

Thud!!

Damn it.

I shielded my left side with my arm as best I could, but the pain didn't shrink by so much as a fraction.

I went down onto the field again.

Once more, I couldn't see how the play unfolded.

But judging by the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mood of the stadium.

The pass must have gotten through.

The crowd had gone dead silent.

(Brad Nessler)

"Pickens is up top, and the screen pass goes to James Cook. Cook looking for the first down—and he's got it! James Cook is pushed out of bounds around the 28-yard line. And once again, Dwayne Moi Stone shows remarkably quick decision-making."

(Gary Danielson)

"He's handling Alabama's blitzes and pass rushes beautifully from the shotgun. At some point, Nick Saban has to start asking himself some hard questions. Moi hasn't lined up under ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠center once in the entire fourth quarter. They may need to consider the possibility that their defensive schemes have been exposed."

A 1-2 personnel group, with Kitty and Darnell on the field together.

Coach went with a bold call this time.

This wasn't even the red zone.

He'd chosen an option play.

"Alright. Mountain. X-Gamma, Z-Lock. Kitty's got the umbrella. D-Pack Light, H Bronze."

Mountain—the call relayed in from the sideline—didn't describe the play itself, only the shape of the offensive line.

The rest I assembled myself.

X-Gamma.

Z-Lock.

Those were the routes for the X and Z receivers.

Kitty's got the umbrella.

That was the tight end's movement.

D-Pack Light meant the running back would be protecting me, and Light told him which tackle he'd be responsible for.

H Bronze was the protection scheme.

The counter to a blitz or a pass rush.

Clap!

We broke the huddle with a pair of claps.

And I lined up in the shotgun yet again.

There'd be nothing wrong with going under center.

But I wanted to keep deceiving them.

Since we'd committed to short-yardage tactics all game long, if I lined up in shotgun one more time, Alabama's defense would ignore the deep ball just the same.

In the fourth quarter now, after taking more than a few tackles.

Everything ached.

But.

"Set!!"

If you fear the pain, you can never be a quarterback.

"Hut!!"

The snap arrived with the call.

And I calculated the time I needed in my head.

If the O-line couldn't hold.

I'd be eating another sack.

One Mississippi.

Two Mississippi.

And then—

(Brad Nessler)

"Moi. Down the middle—and it's—TOUCHDOWN!! Unbelievable!! Georgia's true freshman quarterback has thrown his fourth touchdown pass of the day!!"

(Gary Danielson)

"Pure talent. And a beautiful throw. The quarterback felt where the safety was, found the hole, and delivered the ball perfectly into it. The catch was a little shaky, I'll grant you—but that's fine. It's a touchdown."

….

With both the blitz and the pass rush picked apart.

Alabama now found itself in deep trouble.

Considering the time remaining and the score gap.

They had no choice but to 'Go For It.'

Which meant, on fourth down, forgoing the safe option of a punt and gambling on keeping the drive alive despite the risk.

This is how a game that hung on a single possession down the stretch can blow wide open in the end—and Alabama now shouldered that weight from every direction.

But there was no other way.

"We have to go for it, right?"

"…Yeah."

The mood on Alabama's bench had sunk through the floor.

Inside, Nick Saban had already burned black.

(Brad Nessler)

"An Alabama streak is about to fall today. They had scored 35 or more points in sixteen consecutive games, but looking at the time remaining, that's realistically out of reach now."

(Gary Danielson)

"Georgia's offense and defense were nearly perfect today. Alabama's offense was decent enough, but their defense simply couldn't control Georgia at all. They never had enough time of possession."

(Brad Nessler)

"The same goes for Alabama, but Georgia sent plenty of players to the NFL this year as well. Starting quarterback Jake Fromm was drafted by the Buffalo Bills in the fifth round, and D'Andre Swift went to the Detroit Lions in the second. Everyone expected the roster to spring leaks—and instead, they look even better than last year. And a big part of that, it seems, is this young man right here."

"We won! We won—!"

"Who's burning who now, huh?!"

"Alabama, Kiss My Ass~"

With the end of the game approaching.

The guys were living it up.

They'd come over one by one to offer their congratulations, and Coach Kirby Smart was collecting plenty of his own.

I hadn't known this.

But today's loss was the first time Nick Saban had ever been beaten by a team coached by one of his own former assistants.

Seriously.

That man is something else.

Undeniably great, in fact.

The touchdown in the fourth quarter had driven in the final nail, and though Alabama tacked on two more field goals, it was never going to be enough to flip the game.

Stetson, out on the field, took a knee after the snap, and with the game clock shorter than the play clock, the game simply ran itself out.

I walked out onto the field clapping my hands.

And only then, at long last, did I smile.

In front of the people I was glad to see.

"Damn it. You absolutely wrecked us."

"Haha. How's school life treating you?"

"Not bad. Would've been a million times better if it weren't for this damn COVID, but hey. By the way—your girl is seriously gorgeous. Where the hell did you find her?"

"Fuck off. You think I pulled her?"

"Damnnn—!"

Alabama has Jaylen Waddle, who'd played alongside me at the 2018 U.S. Army All-American Bowl. There was a time I thought it might be fun to run routes with him, and I even considered suiting up for Alabama myself—but we ended up on different teams, and this was the first time we'd seen each other in nearly a year.

We might cross paths again in this season's championship game, but just in case, there was something I had to say.

"You heading straight to the NFL?"

"Yeah—probably."

"Really? Then take care of that body. See you around."

"You too."

Of course I'd always known he'd go to the NFL.

He was one of the best wide receivers in the country.

And come to think of it.

We really had been the underdogs ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠today.

Alabama fielded elite offensive options at both wide receiver and running back, and their level sat a notch above even my own teammates'.

And yet, the reason we won?

Well.

The defense.

And me, I suppose.

With a defense in top form and a solid quarterback.

You can win any game.

(Gary Danielson)

"Georgia's win today carries enormous significance, and it will surely send ripples through the SEC and college football as a whole. It snapped Alabama's streak of 35-point games, and it also ended Nick Saban's 21-game winning streak against his former assistants. From here, Georgia will only build momentum."

(Brad Nessler)

"The quarterback matchup showed a truly massive gap today. As you can see on screen…."

Back in the locker room, we sprayed water and sports drinks everywhere, savoring the joy of winning the most important game of the year.

We blasted the music and sang along.

Danced, and filmed it too.

A win over Alabama for the first time in thirteen years.

The joy doubled, naturally.

"That's it! THAT'S what I'm talking about!"

"We kicked their asses—!!"

"Who let the Bulldogs out?!"

"WOOF!!"

"WOOF, WOOF!!"

"AWOOOOO—!!"

While we were celebrating and getting ready to shower, Coach Bryant Gantt came up to me.

Player Support and Operations.

He was the one who handled all sorts of odds and ends for the program.

"Moi?"

"Yes, sir."

"Get washed up, change, and head over to the media room."

"The media room? Here?"

"Yep. You're up after Coach."

"Yes, sir."

Because of the COVID protocols.

There had been no postgame interviews.

Players had only done video interviews on Tuesdays and Fridays from a separate facility, and I'd done my first one just this week.

And now, a postgame interview.

I hadn't heard a word about it.

"This the place?"

"Yep. Go on in."

After a quick shower and a change of clothes.

I stepped through the open door.

Cameras and monitors had been set up facing a small podium fitted with microphones, and once I confirmed it was the same arrangement as the ones at school, I walked over and took my spot in front of the sponsor board.

"Congratulations on the win."

"Thank you."

"Haha. Ready to go?"

"I think so."

"Great. Then let's start. When I give you the signal, the reporters up front will begin with their questions. You'll hear them through the speaker, and if you can't make one out, just ask them to repeat it."

"Yes, sir."

Since arriving at college.

My first postgame interview was underway.