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Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter Six – Veteran Presence After seven weeks, the 2011 NFL season nears its midpoint. For the Los Angeles Knights, their upset win against Detroit has invigorated players and fans alike. Though their 2-5 record puts them at the bottom of the AFC West, they are far from doomed. The Chargers currently lead the division at 4-2, trailed by the Chiefs and Broncos (both 3-3). None of those teams has been especially impressive so far, and the Chargers are well-known choke artists. The division is up for grabs. Fans speculate dozens of what-if scenarios ending in a division championship for their favorite team. A string of wins would definitely put L.A. back in the mix, and this weekend’s division game against Kansas City would be a great place to start. The Knights go to work early Tuesday morning. It’s only the first day of practice after a long return flight from Detroit, but Brian Penner doesn’t care. Football is football, and he only knows one way to play it. Penner lines up at center, the position he’s played since high school, and takes the first scrimmage snaps of the day. He jumps off the line and plows through the defensive line with ease. He plants Tommy Kelly to the ground one play, Sam Luck the next. This is too easy. Eventually, he emerges free for a run block and plows an unsuspecting Briggs Randall to the ground. Randall stays there for a second. “What’s going on, fellas?” Penner shouts. “Did practice start, or am I dreaming? Wake up!” Penner extends his hand to let Randall up, takes it, and shoves him back to the grass. This finally causes a stir. “Get up yourself, pretty boy.” Randall shouts something back, but Penner just claps his hands. Coach Daniel moves—to wake up the troops, not scold his veteran center—but Coach Harden is already working. The linebackers receive an earful, and Harden’s bickering soon reaches every defensive player. Within seconds, everyone’s awake. Throughout the remainder of practice, Penner doesn’t plant anyone else on the ground, though he takes a few liberties to make sure they stay on edge. He has a respectable matchup this week against Chiefs nose tackle Kelly Gregg, but he’s less concerned with his own performance than he is with his team staying focused and building a winning streak. In the locker room after practice, many players hold amicable conversations with Penner in the locker room, Randall among them. No hard feelings. Randall is a rookie, but it’s Penner’s first year with the Knights too, and everybody knows his routine by now. Three days before free agency, Chance Phillips sits alone in his office, his strategy ready. After a 5-11 season dubbed as a rebuilding year, the Knights need to show progress next season, and they’ll need a good offseason to do it. After one year as GM, the franchise is still not as financially flexible as Phillips would like it to be, but that’s his problem now, nobody else’s. His office door opens. It’s Paul DeMartine. By now, Phillips can read the expressions on his face, and this one says there’s news. “What is it, Paul?” “Buffalo just cut Brian Penner.” Phillips likes that. He’s researched Penner as a possible free agent signing, but only preliminarily. “Let’s do some homework.” The two hit the film room and collect some data. Together they surmise that Buffalo was apprehensive about paying Penner’s 2011 cap number (high for a center, Phillips admits), especially considering his drop-off in play this season. Phillips personally attributes that to lingering injuries. When free agency officially opens three days later, the Knights keep tabs on Penner and stay in contact with Penner’s agent. The market is surprisingly low for his services considering the lack of quality centers available. Phillips suspects many teams plan on picking up a center through the draft, and even though he agrees with their philosophy, he wants leadership on offense, and L.A.’s offensive line needs a boost in the worst way. With approval from the higher-ups, he pounces, and a three-year deal is signed. Phillips is thrilled about keeping the deal to three years considering Penner turns 30 this offseason. The local media praises the $12 million contract as efficient financially, and they praise Penner as well. One beat writer calls him “a welcome addition to an offensive line that has needed help for too long.” The signing gets praise from the national media as well, though it flies under the radar, for the most part. On the defensive side of the ball, practice week goes well. Everybody rides the momentum wave caused by Malik Rose’s breakout performance against Detroit, especially Coach Harden. “If he can cover Calvin, he can cover anyone” becomes a popular line of his. Even better, this week’s game against Kansas City is full of favorable matchups. With Rose holding the fort against Dwayne Bowe, Jamaal Charles out with a torn ACL, and Matt Cassel under center, the Chiefs don’t pose a threat. Their offensive line looks very good on tape, but then so did Cleveland’s. But then, the Knights lost the Cleveland game. The hypotheticals go on forever. From the strong safety position, Chet Ripka watches with comfort. Sharing coverage duties against Calvin Johnson was murder, and if not for Rose’s performance, he would have been burned multiple times. Even though Ripka, months away from his 34th birthday, realizes receivers like Calvin Johnson don’t come around very often, being beat with speed so easily is a demoralizing experience. It never would have happened in Ripka’s prime, however long ago that was. He knows his career won’t last beyond two or three more seasons, but he wonders if he’s fallen behind physically more than he anticipated. In front of him, Randall gets juked badly by third-string running back Jerome Jaxson. He falls to the ground so awkwardly some other teammates laugh, though Jaxson doesn’t show him up. “Short memory, Briggs,” Ripka says as he helps him back to his feet. “Short memory. Next play.” Randall nods and gets back in formation. Ripka walks out of the shower, refreshed but tired from working out. After only one year in the league, he realized there’s no such thing as an offseason. After ten years, his offseason routine had been perfected. The eleventh year, however, the season that ended a few months ago, was different. Extension talks with Chicago fell apart before week one, so he played through a contract year. With money on the line, he languished through a terrible drop-off in production. The fact that he missed the Pro Bowl for the first time in five years still stings. All things considered, he’s not surprised to be unemployed at the moment. He knew the Bears would wait his market out initially, but he’s been a free agent for weeks. There are a few offers on the table, but nothing for longer than two years, and nothing higher than $13 million. He thinks he understands the business, but he underestimated the scare effect a drop-off contract year can have on teams’ financial willingness. He doesn’t need the money—he’s saved up enough from the big payday he got when he was 28—but that doesn’t help his pride strictly from a football standpoint. The phone rings. It’s his brother. He doubts it’s a personal call, because it’s also his agent. “Hello?” “Hey, Chet. Catch you at a bad time?” “Not at all. What’s up?” “Another offer came in. A big one.” “I’m listening.” “Los Angeles. Three years, twenty million.” “Wow.” He doesn’t really know what to say. He tries to process the numbers in his head. The Los Angeles Knights… “They don’t want me to come in for a visit?” “That’s an option, if you’d like. They’ve freed their schedule tomorrow for you.” “Yeah, I think I’ll do that. What do you think about the contract?” “I like it a lot. Phillips was coy—you know how GMs are—but it seems Merle Harden, their defensive coordinator, really likes you. And they’re looking for leadership.” Ripka likes the first part of that explanation; he knows of Harden from his Carolina days and always respected his defenses. Regarding the second part, however, “looking for leadership” sounds like “We know you’re old and slow, but we want you to tutor the young guys before you retire.” “I’ll think it over,” Ripka says, “talk with Michelle and the kids.” “Okay. But, you’re interested, right?” He sounds weird, unlike his report of the previous offers. “What are you saying?” “Listen, Chet, you’re my brother, and you know I love and respect you, so don’t take this the wrong way. I never thought we’d get three years.” Ripka sighs. “Alright then. Get me set up with a flight.” “Great.” Ripka hangs up and sees his wife staring at him. She knows something’s happened, and that’s okay. They’ve discussed this for awhile now, and they both suspected they wouldn’t be in Chicago forever. Still, moving is never easy, and he never wanted to make his children change schools. Not sure how best to pitch Los Angeles, he decides to start with warmer weather. The Knights and Chiefs take the field for L.A.’s last game before their bye week. They’ll travel to Arrowhead Stadium in week 15, but for now, they have the fans on their side. A win today takes them to 3-5 and keeps the AFC West within reach. Offensively, Brian Penner has his way with Kelly Gregg, but Chiefs ends Glenn Dorsey and Tyson Jackson break through with frequency and ease. The Knights can’t generate enough blocking for a run game, and Maverick is under too much pressure to sustain a drive. One particular run play, Penner sweeps right and meets Jackson, whose hand reaches up and catches him in the eye. Penner grabs his facemask back and hears whistles blow. Indifferent, Penner shoves him to the ground near the sideline. A flag flies, and Penner struts back to the huddle, no regrets. Defensively, Coach Harden’s plan works well. Ripka enjoys covering guys who can’t burn him, sees no passes thrown his way, and eventually fires up the crowd with a big sack on a third down blitz. The game is a defensive battle, though the lack of offense lulls fans out of their pre-game craze. Sebastian Janikowski’s superiority puts the Knights up at halftime, 9-3. In the locker room, Penner yells at his fellow offensive linemen to step it up. Ripka sees no need to counsel anyone; the defense is playing great. The Chiefs return the second half kickoff all the way and take the lead, 10-9. Farmers Field goes eerily quiet. When the Chiefs’ offense finally gets the ball, L.A.’s defense gobbles them up on first and second down. Harden calls cover two on third and nine. Ripka studies the offense and senses a screen developing. Matt Cassel takes the snap and scans. Technically covering Dwayne Bowe along with Rose, Ripka cheats up to swarm the screen, but it never happens. He turns back to Bowe, who is three strides ahead of Rose. Ripka bolts it for the end zone to head him off, but he’s too fast, and Cassel’s pass hits him in stride. 17-9, Chiefs. “Where’s my help?” Rose asks. “Thought you had him. That’s on both of us. Let’s get him next time. No more points.” “Whatever you say, old man.” On the bench, Ripka tries to calm Rose down as the offense takes the field. The Knights are apparently losing the game of adjustments; the Chiefs defense penetrates the offensive line despite blocking changes. Penner holds his own, but things break down around him. Maverick’s scrambling ability creates a few exciting plays, but the Knights can’t get past midfield. In the fourth quarter, the score is unchanged. With 6:45 to go, the Knights offense faces fourth and one from the Chiefs’ forty. It would be a 57-yard kick, within Janikowski’s range, but Coach Daniel refuses to settle for a field goal. Cutting the deficit to 17-12 is unacceptable. This drive has to reach the end zone. In the huddle, Maverick relays the call, a quick draw to McFadden right up the gut. “Let’s go, men!” Penner screams. “Stick your man, hold the line. Let’s get this first down, baby!” The huddle breaks and the line sets. Maverick calls the quick cadence. Penner snaps him the ball and sticks the nose tackle in the mouth, pushing him back two yards. He feels bodies fall around him as they continue jostling. Whistles blow and Penner backs off; they can’t have a flag here. The referees sort through the pile as best they can and spot the ball. Nearby Knights signal first down, and the crowd responds. The chain gang jogs in for a measurement. Once the chains are set, a few spare inches of space lie between the first down and the tip of the football. Turnover on downs. Penner puts his hand on his hips and walks to the sideline in defeat. He says nothing to his linemen this time. The defense takes over, victory a slim but tangible possibility. The Knights are eight points down, but they need the ball back first. The Chiefs hand off on first down and Sam Luck makes the tackle at the line of scrimmage. They hand off again on second and ten; Dexter McCluster breaks free for a moment before being leveled by Chet Ripka. The crowd cheers. Facing third and five, the Chiefs look poised to punt the ball back. Cassel takes a shotgun snap. Ripka’s man stays behind to block, so Ripka maintains centerfield. He follows Cassel’s eyes and sees an open receiver coming across the middle. Cassel fires and hits his man; Ripka lowers his shoulders and decks him just after contact. The crowd cheers again, but a flag comes flying. “Personal foul, unnecessary roughness, defense, number twenty-one. Fifteen yard penalty, automatic first down.” The crowd boos, angrier with the officials than with Ripka, who wonders in his head how many times he has delivered that same hit in years past. Two days later, the Knights begin a light practice schedule for their bye week, as determined by Coach Daniel. Like any football team with two wins and six losses, they have a lot to work on, but he wants his team fully rested for the second half. From inside the Knights’ headquarters, Chance Phillips sits down with the rest of management for the usual debrief. “I should inform you all before you hear it on the news,” Phillips says. “Ripka got a fine for his hit on Breaston.” “Thank God it wasn’t a suspension,” Wayne Schneider says. Phillips agrees. Even worse, he’s seen all the advanced stats on the Kansas City game, and they indicate a recurring problem for Ripka. His coverage stills are deteriorating faster than everyone feared, something Phillips wants to neither hear nor admit. He signed him because of fierce support from Coach Harden, who insisted he could ensure his Hall of Fame play (a debatable claim, in Phillips’ mind) wouldn’t decline. Remembering the details of Ripka’s three-year, $20 million contract, Phillips knows he can easily be cut loose after year two. But there’s a lot of football between then and now, and Ripka will be 35 next season. In the passing league that is the NFL, Phillips doesn’t want anybody in his secondary who can’t cover. But perhaps more importantly, he doesn’t want to create financial limitations by cutting Ripka’s contract, especially not after working so hard to get some breathing space against the cap. The only position that concerns Phillips as much is the offensive line, which is preventing the entire offense from reaching anything near its potential. Penner is in the middle of an all-pro season, but by the time Phillips builds a competent offensive line, his contract may be up. Phillips feels uncomfortable with so many problems, and only time to solve them.