Dominate the Super Bowl

Football, North America's number one sport, outshines baseball, hockey, and basketball in market share, making it the absolute ruler.

Not only are the NFL's professional games dominant, but the NCAA's college competitions also boast unparalleled supremacy, causing envy among other professional leagues.

Numbers don't lie—

"Crimson Tide Storm VS Trojans" this season's opening game not only set new records for in-person attendance, but ABC's TV viewership numbers also easily surpassed twenty million.

It was 2016, and with the rise of online streaming, social media, and varied entertainment options, television ratings across all categories—including dramas, sports, and talk shows—were in decline. Ten million viewers had already become a significant threshold.

Yet, in such circumstances, the NCAA's 2016 season opener still attracted over twenty million viewers, blowing away all other shows.

Result!

In such a high-profile battle, who was dominating the front pages of major newspapers and becoming the darling of social media? A stranger?

A completely unfamiliar face.

Moreover, it was an Asian face!

What was going on?

Although the spring training camp's warm-up games were televised on ESPN and indeed drew some attention to Li Wei, at the end of the day, it was just a warm-up match, its value limited and its subsequent impact equally limited. The name "Li Wei" and that face still remained unfamiliar in the world of football.

Li Wei didn't know them, and they didn't know Li Wei—

Mutually unknown, perfect!

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But now, the situation was utterly different; in the season opener, Li Wei, by the strength of one man, decided the game, undoubtedly becoming the most dazzling player.

"177 yards, three touchdowns."

As people read these stats, they couldn't help but be dazzled; it was truly a dominant performance, enough to make anyone's heart race.

When people read the note that said, "only played in the first half," excitement turned to frenzy, brains went offline, completely losing the ability to think.

So, who was he?

Not just the NCAA, but also the NFL's attention was drawn. A player who could advance 177 yards and score three touchdowns in just one half was absolutely sensational; but more importantly, professional team scouts' reports had no record of this player at all, which was utterly unacceptable.

Draft, crucial for the NFL.

Since football teams consist of numerous personnel and have to deal with the limitations of a hard salary cap, relying solely on the free market to create a competitive lineup is neither realistic nor possible. They must rely on drafts. Affordable rookies are the direction for teams' development, aiming for championships with rookie bonuses as the mainstream.

Naturally, every year's draft is of utmost importance to the teams.

But now, a dominantly powerful player suddenly emerges and they know nothing about him?

Unforgivable!

Although it was just one game, and despite that the new season hadn't even kicked off and the teams weren't sure if they would need this player next year, they at least needed to be informed.

Even if it wasn't their team signing him, they should at least know whether the rookie their opponents signed was a mule or a horse.

In an era where information is king, lack of information means falling behind, it means being passive, something the Professional League is well aware of.

However!

Now there was a new star who popped out of the blue?

Amidst the hustle and bustle, all eyes gathered.

That brief, rough piece of player data displaying the beauty of minimalism appeared at lightning speed on the desks of NFL team managers and head coaches.

It is no exaggeration to say that of the thirty-two professional teams, not a single one was an exception.

Yet—

In less than a mere three seconds, more than half of the teams had put down the information, disinterestedly diverting their gaze, their previously high spirits instantly plummeting below freezing.

The reason was very simple.

"Position, running back."

Just this one keyword was enough to diminish their interest, to the point where they were unwilling to even give it a second glance.

This was a reality, as well as a dilemma.

The specific situation required in-depth analysis; its complex historical causes were not so simple, but overall, it could be summarized in two points.

First, the league trend.

In the 1980s and 1990s, the running back was a vital core of each team, on par with the quarterback, with ground and passing attacks dividing the realm, and some teams preserving the good tradition of favoring ground attacks, naturally making the status of the running back significant.

After entering the new millennium, the league changed a series of rules under the premise of "preventing injuries," increasing protection for the quarterback; even though this reason was indeed factual, the real motive was television broadcast revenue.

After all, compared to the cumbersome and slow ground offensives, in the twenty-first century—where the pace of life kept increasing and the visual stimuli grew more numb—the dazzling and thrilling passing attacks, akin to the Galactic Battleship, were the ones that could win the cheers of the audience, somewhat similar to the development of soccer.

Once, there were no shortages of top teams focusing on defense, but gradually, the fans' preference shifted to favor offense over defense, causing the value of offensive players to soar.

Though the scenarios were not exactly the same, the essence was similar.

After the league changed its rules, more space was given to passing, reducing the difficulty of breaking through with passing attacks, and teams' tactical playbooks gradually began to shift; after 2010, it distinctly entered the "era of passing attacks," with no signs of diminishing but only intensifying over time.

Naturally, the quarterback and associated passing positions soared in value; for example, the wide receiver and the offensive guard.

Conversely, the running back was the victim.

Ground attacks were undervalued in all the teams, leading to a drastic decline in both value and status of the running backs.

Second, the injury scenario.

Although in football, every position except the quarterback must endure countless impacts—it's part of the game—no position endures them like the running back.

The running back must constantly use his body to absorb impacts to forge new territories, making it the most wear-prone position in football.

According to statistical data, the average professional career span across all positions in the NFL is 3.3 years, whereas for running backs, it's only 2.57 years, ranking last among all positions.

And those Hall of Fame legendary running backs have somewhat longer careers, but their peak performance often lasts only three to four years, and without injuries, they start to decline due to the deterioration of physical functions.

Moreover, countless legendary running backs have fallen from grace due to injuries.

That is to say, the cost-effectiveness is not high.

If a team signs a running back with a high salary and he gets injured the next year, then that salary turns into bad debts, completely wasting the salary cap space.

Combining these two situations, along with various other factors, the league has left less and less development space for running backs.

In reality, the best coaches knew this:

Without ground attacks, passing offenses couldn't open up the game; without excellent running backs, offensive tactics couldn't proceed effectively.

However, reality is just that harsh.

So much so that when team managers saw "running back" as the position, their boiling blood also cooled down.