OAKLAND, Calif. — When Seth Roberts walked to the line of scrimmage, he didn't have a clue. What was his route? What was this coverage? Oh no, was that his position coach scowling over there?
His first season at West Alabama, Roberts would inevitably screw up and phone home in a pit of frustration.
"There was too much mentally going through him," said his father, Ronnie Roberts. "His mind would go blank."
Yet here is Seth Roberts today.
There's only one minute, 55 seconds left in overtime. At the Buccaneers' 41-yard line, on 4th-and-3 from the slot, he smells blood.