Dominate the Super Bowl

Chapter 188 187" rings the alarm bell

"One. Two. Three. Four."

Physical trainer Barry Rubin didn't use a whistle, relying solely on his raw voice to roar out commands, coarse and explosive, covering the entire training field. Every player, without exception, had to follow the cadence, each command prompting a specific movement.

The basic stance was marching in place, toes had to constantly touch the ground lightly and nimbly as the feet alternated touching down, and then corresponding actions were completed according to the commands.

One, keep the upper body still, swivel both knees to the left, then return to the original position.

Two, keep the upper body still, swivel both knees to the right, then return to the original position.

Three, lie down.

Four, push off the ground with the legs in a planking position, with the left knee raised toward the stomach.

Five, same position, with the right knee pushing toward the stomach.

Six and seven, repeat the movements of four and five.

Eight, stand up.

Nine, jump with legs apart.

Ten, return to the initial movement.

From one to ten, each command triggered a movement, engaging all the muscles in the body in exercises that improved on the foundation of the burpee, intended as a simple warm-up to get the body moving as much as possible.

It looked simple, but the focus was on—

Persisting for a full thirty minutes?

In fact, nobody needed thirty minutes; around the ten-minute mark, the players from the offensive line and defensive line started to falter.

The linemen often were the heaviest and slowest players on the team, like mountains of flesh, and they had very poor endurance. This kind of physical training was sheer torture for them.

One mountain of flesh removed his helmet, looking as if he had just been fished out of water, steam rising from his head, directing angry eyes toward head coach Reed at the front of the line, silently protesting with his gaze.

Then, several more flesh mountains likewise removed their helmets and joined the ranks.

However, Reed remained expressionless.

Rubin's rebuke was swift to follow, "What the hell are you doing? Put your helmets back on right now, and keep moving! Or else, after training is over, you'll do an extra thirty minutes, I mean what I say, do it immediately!"

Spittle flying, in the sunlight you could clearly see Rubin's saliva spray onto the face of one of those mountains of flesh, with a ferocious expression that seemed ready to devour him whole, the atmosphere instantly becoming tense—

"The question is, are you ready?"

"One! Two!"

Thud, thud, thud thud thud.

There was no other sound on the training field except for the disorderly footsteps and heavy breathing. Rubin's cold and rough voice did not falter, mercilessly dragging all the players towards hell.

"Three! Four!"

Sweat boiled; muscles burned.

Li Wei was extremely focused, a hundred percent so. He thought his physical reserves were sufficient, but clearly, he had underestimated professional competition—

One by one, most players had already fallen and were being dragged off the field by medical staff. Surrounding the center, the field gradually emptied. Unexpectedly, Smith stayed behind.

Alex Smith, the quarterback.

Smith had always appeared "mediocre," whether it was his lack of toughness in critical moments or his absence of killer long throws, he never stood out as a superstar yet never seemed awful.

But deep down, Smith had his perseverance.

Clenching his teeth tightly, a rare flash of ferocity sparked in his eyes.

Unfortunately, he ultimately didn't last. His knees gave way, and he fell forward onto them.

"Alex!"

Someone exclaimed. Smith, however, lifted his head and refused the help of the approaching medical staff, forcing himself to stand on shaking legs. Although he was trembling all over, he eventually stood up, unsteady, to a surrounding gaze of admiration, and made his way to the side to grab a water bottle and start guzzling it down.

Before long, only three people remained on the training field—

Li Wei. Hunter.

Travis Kelce.

Two rookies and one veteran.

Actually, Mahomes had also held on until the very end, but he lacked a little something, falling just a bit before Smith did. It was less about his physical ability to endure and more about not being mentally prepared, leading to slight deviations and his knees not holding up.

After falling, Mahomes still appeared energetic, relying on himself to get to the sideline where he sat with the other rookies, cheering energetically.

Unintentionally, this training session had evolved into a competition between rookies and veterans, and the situation subtly became tense.