And the bitch of it was, he saw it all coming. A sweep building 
around the horn- he backed off Evans and took the pulling guard, 
locked him up and waited for the weak side LB to come flying into the 
hole- 
-and suddenly the son of a bitch RB sees the same thing and reverses 
field, a stupid show-off shuck and jive when he should just square 
his shoulders and take his two yards like a man. And then everything 
goes real slow, it's like he's watching a preview of what's going to 
happen in real life a split second later. The LB switches vectors 
like a ball-seeking missile and slides by Evans, who can afford to 
overplay him accidentally-on-purpose. Evans lunges out, "missing" the 
LB (who'll get reamed up the strongside before he can make a play 
anyway, no shit on Evans' shoes there.) 


All of which leaves Evans a free shot.

Here's Mike locked up with the pulling guard, unable to turn or 
protect himself. Evans blasts into him with a hellacious clip that's 
somewhere between a crackback block and a spinal tap. Mike's top half 
folds backwards as the pulling guard pancakes him, while underneath, 
Evans smashes his pinned bottom half in the opposite direction. 


A bunch of things go wrong in quick succession. 


Pop! L7 bursts like a donut in a metal press. 


Sproing! There goes Mike's left hip, rocketing out of joint like a 
thrown rod. Ligaments snapping like old rubber bands. First, before 
anything else, comes the noise, a sick cracking crunch, and the sense 
of impact. The pain falls in a split second later. It's bright, like 
lightning, forked and redoubled, crackling, as Evans rolls 
deliberately along the length of the weirdly folded leg, and - 


Ping! goes his left ACL. 

And if he'd just broken that quarterback's ribs when he had the 
chance, Evans would have picked another target. Someone softer and 
less expendable. But Mike hadn't wanted it enough. 


Evans just wanted it more.




Link!?