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Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter Three – Line of Defense Third and two. The Ralph Wilson Stadium crowd cheers in anticipation of the game’s most important play. With 2:49 and counting left in regulation, the Bills lead, 20-17. The Knights need the ball back. The white jerseys of Los Angeles’ 3-4 defense bunch the line of scrimmage. From the edge, outside linebacker Zack Grantzinger eyes Fred Jackson, who has run wild, in the backfield. From center, Ryan Fitzpatrick milks the play clock, then snaps the ball. Grantzinger collides with right tackle Erik Pears, lowers his hips, and shoves him aside. He sees Jackson with the ball running right for him, but lowers his shoulders too late—Jackson bounces off him. Grantzinger turns and gets planted to the grass. He rises to see Jackson tackled in field goal range. Bills fans go wild, victory well within reach. Grantzinger jogs back to the defensive huddle as Coach Daniel spends his first timeout. The Knights can still get the ball back with a stop. “That’s on me, guys,” Grantzinger says to his teammates. “Forget it,” Kirk Morrison, defensive captain, says. “Let’s get ‘em on this series and take the ball back.” Buffalo calls a predictable run play on first down and Jackson goes nowhere. Coach Daniel calls another timeout. Buffalo runs a toss play and Jackson gets four yards. Keeping his last timeout, Daniel lets the clock run down to the two-minute warning. The defense readies for third and six. Coach Harden calls a conservative play. Grantzinger lines up outside, ready to blitz. A few yards away, inside linebacker Briggs Randall listens to Morrison’s audibles. The Bills send their tight end in motion, and Randall sees the play; he’s seen this set before, earlier in the game. He tries to let Morrison know, but the Bills snap the ball. Randall bolts right, anticipating a toss, but Jackson takes a quick draw up the middle and darts through an empty space in the defense—where Randall should have been. The safeties close in, but Jackson is too fast; he splits them and strides into the end zone. Morrison puts his hands on his hips and gives Randall a “What was that?” look. All Randall can do is hang his head. The defense retreats to the bench and receives an earful from Coach Harden. Meanwhile, Maverick manages to move the chains but runs out of time. Bills win, 27-17. The Knights sulk towards the locker room, no longer as eager to head back home with an 0-2 record to sport. Last season was supposed to be the rebuilding year; it wasn’t supposed to be a long-term project spilling into this year. Things are supposed to be better. “A.J. Green.” The Los Angeles Knights war room recoils in temporary defeat as the fourth pick of the 2011 NFL Draft resounds through the room. The commissioner makes it official within minutes. Arizona is now on the clock. Chance Phillips waits for news from Arizona or elsewhere. The Knights’ approach to their first round pick is much more aggressive this year. Phillips got his franchise quarterback last year; now he needs someone to through to. “The pick is in.” Phillips doesn’t worry. He doesn’t see the Cardinals drafting his man. “Patrick Peterson.” “Called that one,” a few scouts boast. Phillips did too, but he doesn’t say it. Cleveland is on the clock, and he’s watching closely. There are two elite wide receivers in this draft, and he wants one of them. Not long after Goodell calls Peterson’s name, the phone sitting in front of Phillips rings. Everyone in the room watches his wrist take up the receiver. “Chance Phillips.” His calm face shows a look of panic as he snatches a pen and scribbles notes. “Okay, let me get back to you. Sixty seconds.” He hangs up. The room waits for news. “That was Heckert. The Browns have an offer.” “From who?” “Atlanta.” “Fuck.” “Oh, no.” “Knew it.” “Here’s the deal,” Phillips says. “Atlanta gives up twenty-seven, fifty-nine, one twenty-four—that’s a first, second, and fourth this year—and their first and fourth next year.” Everyone at the table either gasps or lets their jaw fall to the table. That’s an awful lot of draft picks. “We can’t really match the offer. Moving up one pick isn’t worth nearly that much. The only possibility is if Cleveland still wants to stay in the top ten, which, hearing Heckert’s voice, I don’t think they do.” “Well, Atlanta’s moving up for Julio, aren’t they?” Wayne Schneider asks. “Is there anything we can do about it?” Nobody says anything. “Let me call him back.” Phillips redials the war room in Cleveland. “Tom, it’s Chance. I want that pick. You want to stay in the top ten?...Okay, what’s it gonna take?...Mhmm…Right. That a hard offer?…I thought so. I’m sorry, Tom, I just can’t do it…No trouble, thanks for keeping me in the loop. See ya.” Everyone sulks in their chairs. Minutes later, the trade is announced and the Falcons are on the clock. They don’t wait long. “The pick is in…yep, it’s Julio.” A few people leave their seats. An air of disappointment saturates the room as the Knights go on the clock. “It’s far from the end of the world,” Schneider says. “Anybody in here disappointed with Randall?” Phillips isn’t; Kirk Morrison struggled adjusting to a 3-4 defense last year, and Briggs Randall is an impact inside linebacker with the leadership of a defensive captain. He has no qualms about adding him to the roster, but he really wanted Julio Jones. And the Knights still have a hole at receiver. The Knights’ homecoming to Los Angeles turns into a media feeding frenzy thanks to the team’s 0-2 record. Every other AFC West team is at least 1-1. Last year, the NFL’s return to Los Angeles provided enough spectacle to dull the sour taste of a 5-11 season. It was a rebuilding year anyway. But this season is supposed to be the step up. The homers had predicted playoffs, of course, but the reasonable beat writers called for records around 8-8. The 2-0 Jets come to town this Sunday, and Vegas already has them as nine-point favorites. A 0-3 record, says the media, and heads may roll. So what’s the problem? Is it too soon to fire Coach Daniel? Has Chance Phillips been a bad GM from the beginning? Merle Harden was hired because he sported a top 10 defense every year in Carolina. Now he sports a bottom 10 unit; what happened? The players aren’t even considering such questions. The team is young and inexperienced, but they still know an irrational media storm when they see one. There’s no reason to panic after two games, even if they lost one they shouldn’t have in Buffalo. The first man in the film room Tuesday morning is Briggs Randall. He fast-forwards through footage to a set of plays stuck in his head, one in particular. Third and six with two minutes remaining. Randall watches himself anticipate the toss, and his stomach turns as Fred Jackson bolts through an unforgivable hole in the middle of the defense. “That’ll drive you crazy,” says a voice behind him. Thinking he was alone, Randall feels frightened but doesn’t flinch. He spins around and sees his defensive coordinator, iced coffee in hand. “Good morning, coach.” “Mornin’, Briggs.” “What’ll drive me crazy, sir?” “That.” He points at the freeze frame of Fred Jackson in the end zone. “You messed up. Play of the game. We needed a stop, you screwed up, we lost.” “Yeah…” “You figure out what went wrong?” “Yes, sir. Read the formation incorrectly, thought it would go outside, went inside. Got too aggressive. I was trying to make a play.” “There you go, then.” “What do you mean, coach?” “You got overaggressive trying to make a big play. There’s your mistake. Anything else?” “Well—I mean—I guess you’re right.” “Listen, Briggs, ain’t no sense dwelling on your mistakes. Want to feel better? Want to become a better football player? Keep watching tape, and figure out why you were wrong about that inside draw. Figure out how you could’ve seen it the other way. Don’t just sit there and use your poor play as a motivator. It can work for some people, I guess, but it won’t make you better.” “Yes, sir.” “See you on the field.” Coach Harden walks away and Randall gets to work. Fueled by a new perspective, he burns through the game tape quickly. He’ll watch for another hour before practice starts, and then he’ll watch for a few more hours, a productive habit he’s carried over from his college days at USC. A few hours later, Randall and the rest of the Knights defense run positional drills in fine L.A. weather. Cameramen surround the practice field as if they’re setting a military perimeter. The linebackers get set for live action snaps against the offensive line, a personal favorite of Harden’s. From a distance, he watches his linebackers and focuses on number fifty-two. Coach Daniel notices Harden’s gaze and approaches. “Something up, coach?” Daniel asks. “You’ll think I’m crazy, but I still say he’s a Hall of Famer.” “We’re all excited about his potential, but isn’t it a little early to make that determination?” “Never seen a kid so young who's so well-rounded. When I’m done with him, he’ll be the best cover linebacker around.” “It’s his second year in the league.” “Only his first year starting.” “He’s only starting thanks to you.” Everyone takes their assigned seats for the third consecutive day. The clock hits seven a.m. Western time and the 2010 NFL Draft resumes. This is the first year under the new three-day format, and the Knights can’t be the only west coast team so unappreciative. The faces around the table yawn as the St. Louis Rams go on the clock to start the fourth round. Chance Phillips reflects on the draft so far, his first as general manager. The Knights have secured their franchise quarterback, a cornerstone lineman for their 3-4 defense, and a ball hawking free safety. Phillips would rather get an offensive player than go defense again, but his mind is already made up. The one benefit about the draft starting early today is he won’t have to put up with Merle Harden’s pestering for long. The Rams draft a receiver named Mardy Gilyard, and the Knights are on the clock with the draft’s 100th pick. By now, no one shows any signs of anxiousness. The excitement and glamour of the draft is over, though champions can still be built in the middle rounds. The minutes tick down without any phone calls. “Well Merle,” Phillips says, “For once, we’re in agreement.” “You won’t regret it, Mr. Phillips,” Harden replies. Phillips picks up the phone that automatically dials to Radio City. “Grantzinger, the linebacker from Oregon.” The tight end breaks left and Zack Grantzinger breaks with him. The ball comes flying in and Grantzinger dives. It bounces off his fingertips and hits the grass. “Great play, Zack!” Coach Harden shouts from the sideline, commending the best defensive play he’s seen in practice all week. “Nice play,” the tight end admits. “Thanks, Bishop,” Grantzinger says. “Now try doing it in a real game,” says Malik Rose, starting cornerback. Grantzinger gives the best death stare he can from behind a facemask but breaks off quickly for the next play. This has all happened very fast for Grantzinger: the last two games, his NFL career so far, his four years in Eugene. He knew he was a talented linebacker for the Ducks but never felt disillusioned enough to consider himself a top draft pick. His instincts were confirmed a year and a half ago, though going at the top of the fourth round still surprised him. Being handed a starting role after just one year surprised him even more. Everything is happening so suddenly that the little things he used to live and die for in Oregon have become numbed, to an extent. He missed a tackle that could have won his team the Buffalo game, but things have been moving too fast for him to notice. He’s not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. Practice finishes within the hour, and the team takes several interviews in the locker room. The Jets game is in two days, and the media has already labeled it the most important game in Knights history. At 2-0 and coming off an AFC Championship Game appearance, the Jets are an elite team right now. A win against them propels the Knights back into relevance and restores hope. A loss takes them to 0-3 and sinks the team to a dark level full of unanswered questions. Sebastian Janikowski boots a fifty-yard kick, sending the ball perfectly through the uprights. 17-14 Knights, 1:07 left in the fourth quarter. The crowd goes wild, cheering on their team’s best performance of the season. A defensive slugfest has turned into a shootout, and the Knights are the last team standing—for now. Amidst the wild celebration, the Knights defense gets ready to hold the lead. After a commercial break and a touchback on the kickoff, they go to work with little room for error; the Jets have all three timeouts and need only a field goal to force overtime. Sporting their purple home jerseys for the first time all year, the defense feeds off the crowd noise. Jets quarterback Mark Sanchez screams out audibles desperately. On the edge, Zack Grantzinger gets ready to blitz. He has feasted on right tackle Wayne Hunter all day and put two sacks to his name. Sanchez takes the snap and drops back. Grantzinger bull rushes Hunter and puts him on the dirt. Sanchez notices and moves left to avoid the rush. He sees an open receiver and winds up. Grantzinger hits him at the last second, and the ball falls to the grass. The clock freezes with exactly one minute to go. The Knights can feel it now, and the Jets’ body language conveys panic. Sanchez sets the formation and drops back. The offensive linemen set up a screen, and Briggs Randall is already there. He slides through the blocker and moves to intercept the pass, but Sanchez has seen it and looks elsewhere for receivers. Randall changes direction but gets blocked. He ends up on the ground and the crowd around him goes silent. By the time he gets up, he sees Santonio Holmes streaking down the field, running for the game-winning touchdown. Holmes trips and falls, thanks to a desperate dive by Rose. The game has been saved, but barely; the Jets are set up nicely on the four-yard line. The Jets offense treks the length of the field as regulation ticks down. Head coach Rex Ryan calls the team’s first timeout with 0:35 on the clock. As the fans groan about Rose’s missed assignment, the defense huddles up. “Here we go,” Kirk Morrison says. “Nothing gets in the end zone. Nothing. We hold them here and beat ‘em in overtime. Alright? Let’s go.” First and goal. The crowd noise booms so close to the end zone seats. Sanchez hands off to Shonn Greene. Grantzinger sidesteps Hunter again and gets a piece of Greene. He’s clinging to him at the line of scrimmage, but he’s about to break away. Randall comes out of nowhere and decks Greene in the mouth. He falls backwards for no gain. The vicious hit fires the crowd up even further and Randall gets high fives from the whole defense. On the sideline, Coach Ryan lets the clock wind down and calls his second timeout with 0:16 on the clock. He has witnessed Jonathan Maverick’s best game of the season—maybe the best of his career—against a great Jets defense, and he’s taking no chances. He wants to score with no time left. Second and goal. Sanchez fakes the handoff and looks right. Dustin Keller heads for the flat. Grantzinger breaks half a second late. Keller has an open end zone in front of him. Sanchez flings the pass to his tight end’s arms—Grantzinger swats it away as he dives through the air. Just like practice, he thinks. Except this time, the whole defense mobs him in celebration, Rose included. Grantzinger almost cracks a smile, but reality dulls the excitement. Still one more play to make. Third and goal, 11 seconds left. Randall inches backward as Sanchez takes the snap from shotgun. He sees something in the offensive linemen and breaks instinctively, leaving his space vacant. Sanchez looks right, then dishes it off to Greene in the flat, a screen developing in front of him. He catches it and is immediately decked by Randall. The force of the hit jars the ball loose for an incompletion. The offensive linemen look around, not sure where the linebacker came from. The Knights sideline cheers and the field goal blocking team runs out for fourth down. Across the field, Coach Ryan finds a referee and calls timeout. The Jets offense remains on the field. Coach Daniel puts the pieces together quickly. “Harden!” he screams. “Yeah, coach?” “Looks like they’re going for it. Get a play ready.” “This guy’s got some balls, I’ll give him that.” “Coach…” “I got it, I got it.” Harden calls the first play that comes to mind, and the defense runs back into place. The Los Angeles crowd gets loud one more time for fourth and goal. With 5 seconds left, this will be either the game-winning touchdown or a game-winning stop for the home team. Morrison calls the play to his teammates, a blitz up the middle. Sanchez sets the shotgun with the crowd noise deafening. He doesn’t bother trying to call any hot routes. He snaps the ball and surveys the end zone. Grantzinger covers Keller again and Randall holds tight in the middle, two receivers nearby. Sanchez keeps looking. Nobody’s open. The offensive line breaks down and forces Sanchez forward. Some green grass in front of him, he tucks the ball and runs for it. Randall heads for him, only three yards away. Sanchez lowers his shoulders at the two and clutches the ball. He gets plowed by three defenders simultaneously at the one-yard-line and winds up on his back. The referees show no hesitation. Down at the one, turnover on downs. Knights win. The defenders mob each other in the end zone, high fives and screaming all around. Somewhere in the chaos, Grantzinger actually smiles. Around the time Coach Daniel and Coach Ryan shake hands at midfield, the offense joins the party, uncharacteristically exciting for the third week of the season. But it’s a win. Finally, a win. And victory feels good, a 1-2 record be damned.