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Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter One – Prologue Word first escapes the residence around 6:23 Pacific Time via a series of text messages. Household members tell the first people who come to mind, and amidst one of the exchanges, the line of communication branches out to a local reporter. He checks with his sources and confirms the news within two minutes. He attaches his name to the report and the rest of the nation soon takes hold of the sudden news that on this day, February 11, 2009, a legend has gone: Oakland Raiders owner Al Davis has passed away in his home. News travels fast in the NFL. A franchise once known for prominence receives yet another blow in a turn of events that has turned it into one known for turbulence. It is one year since Lane Kiffin was hired as head coach, a little over four months since he was fired, and seven days since Davis announced Tom Cable, interim head coach, would permanently retain the title. It is unclear how the rest of the league will react to the news. Only ten days ago they witnessed the Pittsburgh Steelers defeat the Arizona Cardinals and win their sixth Super Bowl in exciting fashion. The Raiders have three Super Bowls, two as the Oakland Raiders and one as the Los Angeles Raiders. Over the following days, the Raiders focus on the loss of one of the league’s greatest owners and successfully dodge questions about the line of ownership—about the future of the Raiders. Behind the scenes, multiple interactions take place. Phone numbers are exchanged. Dollar figures are bounced back and forth. One of the men in on these negotiations is Wayne Schneider. A native resident of Los Angeles, Wayne is a respected businessman and has even been executive producer on a few Hollywood productions. Wayne stays in constant contact with Tim Leiweke, Anschutz Entertainment Group president/CEO, and Casey Wasserman, former Los Angeles Avengers owner. They are wealthy, powerful men like him, and he needs them in order to close the deal. He can’t have a football team without a stadium. Thanks to financial proposals with lots of zeros and spurred by a media frenzy, things move quickly. By the end of February, Wayne Schneider is the new owner of the Oakland Raiders. As anticipated, he announces the upcoming season with be the Raiders’ last in Oakland; they are moving (back) to Los Angeles. The news sends shockwaves through the league like a Southern California earthquake. Fans of all 32 teams anticipate a highly publicized press conference where Schneider officially announces the decision. In the opening moments of his speech he conveys his likability. He is young, charismatic, even charming—the kind of guy who seems like he could run for President, though he chose a much more prosperous career. He describes Farmers Field, which will be built adjacent to the Staples Center as planned, in fantastic detail and says construction will be complete well in time for the 2010 season. For the 2009 season, the Raiders will keep their current coaching staff and management personnel in place. “Management personnel” is a strange choice of words because Oakland no longer has a general manager. Does Schneider have a plan? He plays it close to the chest, eventually promoting the team’s vice president of player personnel to the position on an interim basis. Fans in Los Angeles grow worried; will Schneider be a hands-on owner? Will he want too much control? He insists he won’t, but actions speak louder than words. The league knows all too well what Al Davis’ level of control ultimately did to the Raiders in his later years. Some in the national media speculate that Schneider only wants to sweat out the team’s last year in Oakland, then give the organization a top-down renovation upon its move to L.A. Commissioner Goodell eventually announces that the Raiders, upon their move to Los Angeles, will remain in the AFC West. Logistically, the move is very convenient for the NFL; they bring football back to Los Angeles and don’t need to realign the league’s geography to do so. Goodell, of course, has been communicating with Schneider all along. There’s nothing in the turn of events he doesn’t like; he gets the Los Angeles franchise he wanted much sooner than he anticipated. The public focuses on other aspects. Will they be the Los Angeles Raiders? Will their color scheme change? Mr. Schneider will answer those questions in due time, Goodell says. The offseason goes on. The Raiders stroll through free agency without any major moves. They make minor transactions, of course, though every decision goes through Wayne Schneider. He grew up a lifelong football fan, has kept up with the NFL, and is competent enough to supervise personnel decisions. But he can’t be running things by himself. He will need a general manager. And he’ll have one. All in due time. Schneider sits in the war room during the 2009 NFL Draft but overrules nothing. With the seventh overall pick, the Raiders take Darrius Heyward-Bey, a raw, size-speed receiver with high potential. The media scoffs at it, calling it “the pick Al Davis would have made.” Raiders fans in Oakland and Los Angeles criticize Schneider for the first time. Why is he waiting to start rebuilding? This is lost time the team will surely pay for later. The NFL drags through summer, the last lull before preseason. With nothing better to do, fans speculate about the future of the Raiders. Fans in Oakland vent their anger at their departing team while Los Angeles eagerly awaits the return of an NFL franchise. Through sound bytes, Schneider hints that the team will have a new nickname. What will it be? What colors will they have? What do the jerseys look like? Schneider doesn’t say. The 2009 season begins. The Raiders kick off their farewell tour at Oakland-Alameda County Coliseum with a loss to the Chargers on Monday Night Football in front of a sold out crowd. The following week, they manage to beat the Chiefs at Arrowhead Stadium, an upset that makes people think the Raiders might not be as bad as predicted this year. The next three games erase all doubt; the Raiders lose all three in blowout fashion. At the same time, the Raiders fail to sell tickets for their home games, all of which are blacked out locally. The losses continue to pile up, along with the construction of Farmers Field. Wayne Schneider conducts his own player evaluations. Quarterback JaMarcus Russell is dreadful, and Coach Cable benches him for Bruce Gradkowski halfway through the season. Neither quarterback has any receivers to throw to; rookie Darrius Heyward-Bey appears even rawer than expected, and tight end Zach Miller is the pass game’s only legitimate target. Darren McFadden splits carries with Michael Bush in the backfield but neither does much behind an inept offensive line. On defense, the Raiders actually display a formidable secondary including the likes of Nnamdi Asomugha and Tyvon Branch, but an awful front seven gives them no opportunity to put their talent to use. During the team’s bye week, by which point the Raiders are 1-7, Schneider makes an announcement: the Raiders will be changing their name to the Knights. Fans seem to like this. He provides an artist’s rendering of their new uniforms: dark purple with accents of black and silver. Fans in Los Angeles complain the color scheme is too similar to the Kings, Los Angeles’ NHL team. Schneider doesn’t care. December soon arrives. While the rest of the league gears up for the playoffs, fans in Oakland start to accept their team’s fate, this season and beyond. The Raiders manage to get one more win, at home against the Redskins. The fans cheer louder than they have all year. The NFL announces Pro Bowl rosters. The AFC roster includes three Raiders: Sebastian Janikowski, Shane Lechler, and Nnamdi Asomugha. The Raiders end their season against the Ravens with another loss, their last in Oakland, giving them a 2-14 record, tied with the Detroit Lions for second worst in the league. The next day, Black Monday, Tom Cable joins three other NFL coaches in being fired. Wayne Schneider commends Cable for his efforts but says the franchise “must head in a new direction to accompany our new location.” Schneider also purges most of the front office, or what’s left of it, and moves quickly to set up interviews for the general manager position. Truthfully, Schneider has been reaching out to potential GMs for the past month. He needs to fill the position quickly. There are four NFL teams with head coaching vacancies, and they need to be filled as soon as possible; Schneider needs his GM first. Four interviews are scheduled, though he suspects he’ll only need one. Chance Phillips flies from Pittsburgh to Oakland and chats with Schneider for hours. They discuss Phillips’ history, from his Master’s in Sports Management to his four years as assistant general manager with the Steelers. Conversation is friendly, but Schneider doesn’t shy from asking difficult questions. Phillips cites several successful draft picks in Pittsburgh that he supported, declares his intention to never sign a bad contract, and makes his best case that he is the best man for the job of general manager. Schneider interviews one more candidate before canceling the others. Two days before the playoffs begin, Chance Phillips is announced as the Oakland Raiders’ general manager. After an introductory press conference, Phillips moves quickly to hire the rest of his front office. He tries to steal as many of his contacts from Pittsburgh as possible while reaching out to other names he has come to deem valuable. He enjoys the freedom Schneider gives him with his decisions. “In hiring you,” Schneider says, “I place my utmost faith in you to build a winning football team. Don’t let me get in the way.” Concurrently, Phillips looks to find his team’s head coach, priority number one. As the calendar turns to January, Phillips sets up three interviews: USC Trojans head coach Pete Carroll, UCONN Huskies head coach Caden Daniel, and former Denver Broncos head coach Mike Shanahan. Phillips, Schneider, and their pieced-together front office interview Carroll and Daniel. Shanahan cancels his interview, about to sign with the Washington Redskins. The media learns of Carroll’s interview and fans in Los Angeles go crazy. Already familiar with Carroll through his success at USC, the public majority swoons over the idea of Carroll as their head coach. The first day of the playoffs, a Saturday, Phillips and Schneider sit quietly in Schneider’s home (Phillips is still in the process of moving to Los Angeles) and contemplate their decision. “Chance,” Schneider says, “This is your decision. I’m fine with whoever you pick, though you know how I feel about Carroll.” “I really thought you’d like him because he’s local to L.A.,” Phillips says. “I like that from a PR perspective; I just think Carroll is a bust in the NFL.” “We can debate the X’s and O’s for hours. Carroll has won a championship, Daniel hasn’t. Daniel had less to work with than Carroll.” “There’s a lot to like about both. Something tells me you’ve already made up your mind, though.” “Somewhat.” “Then go for it.” “You sure?” “Let’s go, Mr. GM. Make the call.” About two hours later, just after the Jets and Bengals have kicked off, ESPN reports the Seahawks will hire Pete Carroll as their head coach. By the time the Jets win, multiple media outlets confirm the news. The next day, just as the Cardinals and Packers go into overtime of a high-scoring game, Chance Phillips gets a phone call. He relays the news to Wayne Schneider, and it somehow reaches the media within minutes: the Raiders have hired Caden Daniel as head coach. Older fans know of Daniel for his NFL career as a journeyman quarterback who won two Super Bowls as a backup. His coaching experience includes the college ranks exclusively: quarterbacks coach at the University of North Carolina, promoted to offensive coordinator, head coach at the University of Connecticut. Daniel signs a five-year contract and is soon introduced at a press conference in Los Angeles. Phillips praises him for his leadership, ability to develop quarterbacks, and emphasis on mental toughness. Daniel humbly answers the media’s questions, repeatedly cites his excitement at leading a relocated franchise in a new direction, and promises to build a winning team. As the media and fans of Los Angeles debate the hire—most wanted Carroll instead and the rest resent the idea of a college coach in the pros—Phillips and Daniel work together to assemble a coaching staff. Daniel has made it clear that great coordinators and assistant coaches are a priority, something Phillips liked in his interview. An offensive coach, Daniel mentions several names for offensive coordinator and Phillips offers no objection. The defensive coordinator position presents a greater struggle. At Connecticut, Daniel had stayed away from the defense, only insisting his defensive coordinator be in line with his views from a leadership standpoint. He and Phillips go through a preliminary round of names and interviews that carries into divisional weekend. All the interviews are underwhelming. By the time conference championship games come around, the majority of both the front office and offensive staff have been assembled. Nothing is resolved on the defensive side of the ball. Phillips and Daniel feel strongly about none of the candidates, and the ones they feel mild about have been hired. They interview a second round of coaches. By the time the Super Bowl matchup is set, the interviews are over, and the Raiders are no closer to finding their defensive coordinator. As a matter of follow-up protocol, Phillips places a phone call to contacts of those he’s recently interviewed. Somewhere along the way, one name gets his attention: Merle Harden, former Carolina Panthers defensive coordinator. Harden put a top ten defense on the field four years in a row, yet he remains unsigned by Carolina—or anyone. Why hadn’t Chance noticed this before? Through phone conversations with people in Carolina, Phillips learns Harden is well respected by his players, but his act has somewhat worn thin on ownership, who wants to go in another direction. Though uncomfortable with ambiguous answers, Phillips discusses this with Daniel, and they schedule another interview. Asking different types of questions, Phillips and Daniel get answers they like. Daniel makes casual football conversation with Harden when he can and warms up to the idea of him as a defensive coordinator. Without many options left, the Raiders’ brain trust decides on Harden, and he is hired to a three-year deal. Phillips doesn’t like that he has had to compromise on a major decision (neither does Daniel), but he suspects this will be a trend over the next few years. Harden works with his new team to fill in the rest of his defensive staff, and by the time the Saints and Colts play in Super Bowl XLIV, the Raiders have their coaching staff and front office finalized. Over the following weeks, Phillips prepares for free agency. He will not be a major player, but there is still work to do, especially on defense, where personnel must now be adjusted from a 4-3 to a 3-4 defense. Eventually, on one particular predetermined date, the clock hits midnight, the 2009-10 league year ends, and the 2010-11 year begins. Along with this, free agency opens, and, more significantly, the Oakland Raiders officially become the Los Angeles Knights.