Colts Clutch Sofi

by Eaazeho | 3 weeks ago | 0 Comments

It's what everyone in the Colt's camp feared, another Week 1 loss was in the books, until a light shined through. The Sim Gods looked down on Load Block Right and granted an extension for the Colts to make magic happen.

The whole night started late, Sunday Night Football at 11pm EST on a Tuesday before a very long Week 1 in the league. Few watched, fewer turnovers happened and the game ended in what some doubters would call a fluke and a bailout for Brooks' Colts. I'd admit we don't have a great track record for Week 1 matchups, reflected on season after season, madden after madden.

 

BUT LUCK STRUCK TWICE AND BABY WE GOT A SAYING IN INDY, START YOUR ENGINES.

 

I'll be the first to say wow I fucking sucked at defense in this game, and they easily popped me where I was letting big plays blow me open like a ham sandwich fighting the force of a leaf blower.

But we win these.

 

The kind of win you don’t explain—you just scream about it at the bar, pants half-zipped and one shoe off.

Jayden Westerman, bless his soul, had a chance to flip the script. Quinton Johnston ran a route straight into his line of sight, and for a moment, it looked like Westerman was about to jump it. Instead, he just… watched it. Eyes locked on the ball, frozen, like someone watching a glass fall off the edge of a counter. Johnston snatched it right in front of him, and just like that, the Chargers were inside Colts territory. One throw later, they were at the 31-yard line, tie game at 38, with 14 seconds on the clock. The Colts sideline? A funeral procession in cleats.

Enter Martin Emerson Jr. The man shot off the line like he owed someone money, broke through the protection, and got a paw on the kick that echoed across damned Sofi stadium. That ball ricocheted off his hand like it hit a brick wall—and somehow, in the madness, Westerman made up for the lapse and recovered it.

Eleven seconds. One timeout. No logic, only faith.

Then came Anthony and Alec. Calm, collected, and slinging absolute haymakers when it counted. Laser to Pierce on the outside streak. Clock stops out of bounds. Two seconds. Llama and everyone else watching had to sit down—even if they already were.

The kick? Buddy, I swear we all saw it happen in slow motion. Accurate, but the meter was prematurely hit and it floated, looked short, then it kissed the crossbar like it was saying fuck you to gravity, and spun forward like the Sim Gods gave it a nudge.

It went in.
It. Went. In.

We stormed the field like we’d just stolen a win from destiny itself—and maybe we did. While Matt Gay, stone cold, walked off to the sideline like business is business.

Look, Week 1 ain’t been kind to us. We’ve been stomped, humbled, and downright embarrassed in openers. But this one? This was ours. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t clean. It was Colts football, baby.