Six seconds
A Monday night, a television audience of millions. A zone defense, of all things.
Earl Little hated playing the zone. The entire concept of a zone defense disgusted him. For those unfamiliar, a zone defense dictates that each member of the defensive secondary is assigned a slice of the field which he is liable for, as opposed to each member of the defensive secondary being assigned a man to guard. Such a defense certainly has its place in football strategy, but to Earl, it intimated weakness. He replayed in his head what he had said aloud to the defensive coaches all season: "Aren't I competing against another man? Can I stare down this piece of turf until it looks away?" He knew that, "You had better get the punt team ready, unless, of course, you leave the particular zone I am liable for, in which case I personally pull no weight in the matter" just wasn't as poignant.
Yet there he paced, maintaining his patch of the field.
DeShaun Foster rumbled across scrimmage, parting the field in two. Earl prepared to engage, bowing his head and letting a grimace slip from his face as he did. The turf didn't blink. Foster swiveled to catch the pass.
As he did, Earl watched the convex reflections of the lights on his helmet.
A lot can happen in six seconds.