American Football: Domination

The second NFC Wild Card game—New Orleans Saints vs. Minnesota Vikings.

On paper, this game had nothing to do with Lance.

But in reality? Every NFL conversation now led back to Lance.

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown."

Lance was now experiencing what Brady had endured for years. And after knocking Brady out of the playoffs? He wasn't just in the spotlight—he was the spotlight.

On one hand, the Saints had Alvin Kamara, the only running back this year who had dared to publicly challenge Lance.

Kamara had long considered himself on the same level as Lance. Now that Lance had made the AFC Championship, Kamara needed to keep pace.

And yet…

The Saints lost.

Kamara was invisible. The young star who had thrived in the regular season crumbled under pressure.

43 rushing yards. No touchdowns.

A complete letdown. The media wasted no time in dragging him for it.

Final score: 24-29.

The Vikings defended their No. 2 seed and moved on to the NFC Championship.

So, while the AFC saw two lower seeds rise up, the NFC saw two top seeds hold their ground.

After the game, reporters swarmed Kamara. The once-outspoken rookie suddenly had nothing to say.

He knew what had happened to Roethlisberger—he wasn't about to give the media more ammo.

Finally, after an awkward silence, Kamara forced out a single line:

"Next season. Just wait."

A reporter immediately shot back:

"This season isn't over yet."

Kamara: …

Another one piled on.

"Why not prove yourself in the Pro Bowl?"

The Pro Bowl—the NFL's version of the NBA All-Star Game.

The shade was blatant.

Kamara visibly tensed. He finally understood what it was like to be on the other side of the media—relentless, unforgiving.

Like a guy getting dumped on Valentine's Day, he just wanted to disappear.

Meanwhile, in Minnesota…

The Vikings had zero connection to Lance.

They hadn't even played the Chiefs this season.

But in the playoffs? Reporters always found a way to make connections.

And this time, they set their sights on Adrian Peterson.

Lance's first training model.

Since entering the league, Lance's playing style had drawn constant comparisons to Peterson. He was even called "Little Peterson" early in his career.

Now, with Lance leading a running back renaissance, all eyes naturally turned to the original version.

Last season, Peterson had suffered a season-ending injury.

Minnesota traded him to the Saints—but after just four games, the Saints shipped him off to Arizona.

And fate wasn't done screwing him over. In Week 15, he got injured again. Season over.

Now? Arizona was actively shopping him.

Peterson had been unstoppable from 2007 to 2015—but like every running back before him, he couldn't outrun injuries.

His era was over.

Meanwhile, the Vikings were thriving without him.

Case Keenum, an undrafted QB from 2012, was having a Cinderella season.

With both the starter and backup injured, Keenum took over and led Minnesota to the NFC Championship—their first since 2009.

For the first time in a decade, the Vikings were flourishing—and they had done it without their franchise RB or QB.

The question was obvious.

"Adrian, how do you feel about this?"

Then, just to twist the knife, a reporter added:

"What do you think of Lance?"

Peterson: …

They traveled all the way to Arizona just to ask about Lance?

Peterson knew the league was ruthless. He had seen legends fall before.

But experiencing it firsthand? It left a bitter taste.

He was pissed.

Not at Lance.

At the media.

His glare was lethal.

"He's great. But I'm not done yet."

Then, he turned and walked away.

Short. Simple. Final.

But in the hands of the media?

The headlines practically wrote themselves.

"Peterson challenges Lance!"

"Peterson vows to take back the title of NFL's best RB!"

"Lance is the future? Peterson says: 'Not so fast!'"

The media loved stirring the pot.

But one man saw through it.

Eric Berry shook his head.

These headlines? Bullsh*t.

Peterson's words weren't about Lance.

They were about himself.

A veteran's pride.

Berry understood that better than anyone.

Like Peterson, Berry had been battered by injuries.

Their bodies had aged.

Their speed had faded.

Their prime was long gone.

And in the world of pro sports, that meant one thing—

They were being replaced.

Everywhere they turned, people dismissed them.

Ignored them.

Acted like they no longer mattered.

But they weren't done yet.

They refused to go out quietly.

It wasn't about proving something to the world.

It was about proving something to themselves.

Berry knew exactly what Peterson was feeling.

"Eric, you shouldn't waste time on this media drama."

Berry didn't need to look up—he recognized the voice.

James White, his physical therapist.

"I know, James. But it's not fair to Adrian."

Then, after a pause, Berry smirked.

"At least they're still talking about him. No one even cares about me anymore."

White clapped him on the back.

"So what? That just means you get to shock everyone when you prove them wrong."

Berry chuckled.

"With the way our guys are playing, how can I not work my ass off?"

Then, he looked up, eyes burning.

"Can you believe it, James? We're back in the AFC Championship! My God!"

One. Win. Away.

Just one more win from the Super Bowl.

The thought set his blood on fire.

Berry laughed.

"Lance is fighting like hell for this shot. I love it."

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Powerstones?

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