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Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter Twelve – The Knights of Andreas Sports writer Adam Javad types away on his laptop, writing a season-concluding article on the team he covers, the Los Angeles Knights. He has already submitted a Chargers game recap to his editor for publishing, and his Knights/Packers preview is in the editing stages. Though he’s under no obligation to paint a positive picture of the team, he writes several hopeful paragraphs noting that the Knights finished the season winning three of their final six games. If they somehow beat Green Bay, he can change it to four of six. His typing stops as a random thought occurs to him: the Knights don’t have a nickname. When they were in Oakland, they were the Black Hole, and the fans were Raider Nation. The Cowboys are America’s Team. L.A. doesn’t even have something short and sweet like Blitzburgh or the Bungles. Javad continues writing the article, unable to think of anything for the moment. Chance Phillips sits with the coaching staff as they study film and plan for the season’s final matchup against Green Bay. Phillips has never been on the sidelines, and while he is obviously credible when it comes to X’s and O’s, he rarely contributes to scheming. On this particular occasion, he wishes he could help his coaches. Thanks to unlucky scheduling, the Knights have landed in the middle of a heavyweight fight atop the NFC. The Packers and 49ers are both 14-1, and the Packers own the tiebreaker. Both teams’ head coaches have publicly stated they’re battling for the number one seed through week 17. From an offensive standpoint, Coach Daniel finds plenty of weaknesses in Green Bay’s defense, especially in the trenches. “We’re going to stick to our standard, balanced approach,” Daniel says. “If we’re going to beat these guys, we have to make them respect the run game, have to make them respect play-action. It could take some patience, but that’s the only way it’s going to work.” On the other side of the ball, the entire room watches in half fear, half astonishment at some of the plays Aaron Rodgers makes. One particular replay shows one of many perfectly thrown back-shoulder fades to Jordy Nelson. “That’s undefendable,” the secondary coach says. “My ass,” Coach Harden insists. “Every play is defendable.” No one retorts. Harden licks his chops for a chance to face elite offenses, and Green Bay is no exception. “Let’s find out where we stand,” he says more than once. He assigns Malik Rose to cover Jordy Nelson whenever he lines up outside, confident Rose can stop the back-shoulder fades. “Coach,” Daniel asks, “any special strategies to stop Rodgers?” “Yep,” Harden says. “Constant blitzing. He’ll be on the ground so much he won’t know what to do with himself.” The Knights’ defense blitzes slightly more frequently than the league average; Harden is known for blitzing random personnel more than high frequency. But this week is a special occasion. Hours later, when coaches finalize the game plan and practice schedule, Wayne Schneider invites the entire coaching staff into his office for an apparently impromptu meeting. It doesn’t take long to fill the room. “Okay, gentlemen,” Schneider says, standing at the head of the table, “thank you all for convening on such short notice. I will make this extremely brief because it is late, and we have a long week ahead. I wanted to let you all know that there will be no coaching changes this offseason initiated by this front office. You are free, of course, to seek opportunity elsewhere should the situation arise, but nobody is being released. Mr. Phillips, management, and I continue to believe in this coaching staff that we have assembled. We look forward to watching this team grow with you all in future seasons. That being said, thank you again, and good luck this week.” The room scatters without applause or handshakes. Phillips doesn’t necessarily like Schneider taking charge on delivering that bit of news, but it’s good for the coaches to hear it regardless. Tuesday, the NFL makes a few official announcements. While several games are moved by way of flexible scheduling because of playoff implications, both games concerning the battle for the #1 seed in the NFC stay in place: the 49ers/Rams game at 1pm, the Packers/Knights game at 4:15pm. Additionally, Pro Bowl rosters are released. Only two Knights make the AFC squad: kicker Sebastian Janikowski and punter Shane Lechler. Energy surrounds the final practice week of the season for Los Angeles, the lethargy of last week history thanks to the Chargers win. Coach Daniel informs his offense of their game plan: balance and patience. He cautions his quarterback, however, about Packers linebacker Clay Matthews. “Expect to run for your life,” Daniel says. “That’s nothing new,” Maverick says under his breath. Brian Penner gives him a nasty glare. They run drills with a practice squad linebacker chasing Maverick around permanently. Though he doesn’t enjoy being on the run, he delivers his throws outside the pocket with precision accuracy. His ability to make plays on the run was perhaps his biggest asset at Penn State, and he’ll need it to survive this week. Eventually, Maverick is called upon to help the defense. Da’Jamiroquai Jefferspin-Wilkes acts as their Jordy Nelson clone so they can practice back-shoulder fades. Malik Rose lines up in coverage. The first throw sails out of bounds. “Nice throw, Mav,” Wilkes shouts. “My bad, D-Jam.” Coaches stand on guard; they remember the fight the two had last week, though things appear to have been resolved despite no formal reconciliation. Maverick’s next throw is perfect. Wilkes spins and catches it. Rose wraps his arms around him and brings him down. “No, no, no,” Coach Harden says. “You’ve got to use your body, use your reach, Malik. Eyes on the ball, then go for it. Get in there, be physical.” “What about pass interference, coach?” Rose asks. “Ah, fuck ‘em. Two guys fighting for the same pass ain’t interference. Besides, if you’re looking at the ball, refs won’t throw the flag. Again!” Maverick’s next pass is slightly underthrown. Wilkes comes back for the ball, but Rose cuts him off and deflects it away. “Attaboy!” Harden cheers. “Nice job, Malik.” As practice goes on, Chance Phillips prepares his offseason strategy from within the walls of team headquarters. Despite being a fair distance from the playoffs again, Phillips is in good spirits. At 5-10, the Knights have already equaled their win total from last year, something that didn’t seem possible a few weeks ago. While the media and fans keep waiting for “the year,” when the Knights erase all ineptitude, take the AFC West by storm, and make the playoffs, Phillips finds a steady progression more likely. Next season, the team could be around 8-8, and then the following year something like 10-6, which would put them in the playoffs. In perspective, making the playoffs in year four, considering what Phillips inherited from the Raiders, sounds about right. With no coaching changes, Phillips’ first order of business this offseason will be free agency. By now, he has the list of impending free agents memorized, including nine starters: Da’Jamiroquai Jefferspin-Wilkes, RobertGallery, Cooper Carlisle, John Henderson, Kirk Morrison, Kamerion Wimbley, Malik Rose, Stanford Routt, and Michael Huff. The top priority is definitely Rose, but the list contains plenty of capable starters who Phillips plans on releasing, remnants of the regime before his. Phillips doesn’t know what his chances are to find suitable replacements via free agency, and any draft pick will almost certainly be an immediate downgrade. The long-term prospects of the franchise may be trending up, but there’s no guarantee their record will improve next year. The silver seats of Farmers Field fill as the hours lead up to kickoff. An already drunk Jay Cooper finds his seat, ready to cheer on his team for the last time this year. He has finally lost hope in Andrew Luck and will reluctantly root for victory today. He’s still pissed that his “FUCK THE CHEESEHEADS” sign was confiscated by stadium security, but at least they didn’t find the flask. After the players finish warm-ups and go back to the locker room, the stadium’s big screen shows that the 49ers have beaten the Rams, 34-17. So the Packers take the #1 seed with a win; a loss or tie, and the 49ers get it. The Knights win the coin toss, defer to the second half, and Aaron Rodgers takes the field. The eleven starters of Merle Harden’s 3-4 base defense stare down the best quarterback in the game as four receivers split out wide. Rodgers finds his receivers quickly, and despite perfect coverage by the Knights, the Packers pile up completion after completion and reach the red zone without facing a third down. They break in the run game with James Starks, who gets great blocking. Rodgers caps the drive with a beautiful fade pass to Greg Jennings. The Knights’ defense has their hands on their hips as the Packers celebrate. This isn’t going to be easy. During commercial break, Harden gathers his troops on the sideline. “We knew this guy was good,” he says. “So don’t act like you’re doing something wrong. Hang in there.” Meanwhile, the home team’s #12 trots out onto the field with his offense. Per the game plan, the Knights open with runs to McFadden, taking their time in between plays. With good blocking up the middle, the offense moves the chains and controls the game’s tempo. When Maverick finally attempts passes, he sees only tight windows that close quickly. Alex Johnson and D-Jam do a good job of getting open on short routes, but Maverick realizes he has no room for error; one slightly off target throw, and it’s a pick. McFadden takes another run up the middle on third and one, but Clay Matthews comes out of nowhere and brings him down for a loss. When the Packers get the ball back, they move the chains again, with more balance this time. Starks has room to work with, and Rodgers completes every one of his passes. Within minutes, they’re in the red zone again. Malik Rose lines up against Jordy Nelson. Rodgers takes the snap, and Nelson runs wide. Anticipating the back-shoulder fade, Rose gets as close as he can as a pass sails for the end zone. Nelson reaches for it, but Rose gets in front of him and swats it away. Rose celebrates for half a second before the nearest referee throws down a yellow flag. “What?! What?!” Rose screams. The fans see an indecisive call on the replay and boo accordingly. Nelson walks away and mutters something. Rose redirects his attention to the receiver. “Shut your white ass up, bitch!” Chet Ripka runs in and removes Rose from the situation. On the sidelines, Coach Harden’s veins pulse on his neck as he berates the nearest official for such a disgraceful call. On the ensuing play, Starks takes a handoff into the end zone. 14-0, Packers. The Knights survive the rest of the first quarter without further suffering. The offense mounts drives that stall at midfield, and Lechler’s punts go inside the ten-yard line, but for a potent offense like Green Bay, it doesn’t matter. Halfway through the second quarter, the Packers face third and five from the Knights’ twenty-six. Rose lines up across from Nelson and isn’t in the mood for another back-shoulder fade. He inches up for bump-and-run as Rodgers takes the snap. Nelson takes a step and gets decked by Rose. Rodgers looks for Nelson, but he’s held up. Briggs Randall and Zack Grantzinger break through on a blitz. Rodgers scrambles and Grantzinger closes in. He heaves on over the middle toward an open Greg Jennings, but Ripka dives from behind and deflects the pass, Rodgers’ first incompletion of the day. Mason Crosby comes on for a forty-three yard kick and narrowly slides it through the posts. 17-0, Packers. Coach Daniel watches his quarterback trot out for another possession. Though he considers a few aggressive play calls, he believes the game plan will work. He knows his players can score on this defense; it’s just going to take time. From the huddle, Maverick takes the play call and sets the formation timidly. His approach to his passes has been different today. With frequent blitzes in his face and tight windows in coverage, he hasn’t forced anything or taken any shots downfield—yet. McFadden continues taking carries right up the middle, which are remarkably effective thanks to Brian Penner, who is dominating nose tackle B.J. Raji at the line of scrimmage. Maverick rolls out and finds Johnson on a deep crossing route for a thirty-yard gain, and a well executed screen to McFadden puts the Knights in field goal range. Maverick hears the next play call and smiles. He relays it and lines up under center. He looks at the sideline and tries to find the other #12. Watch this, Aaron. Maverick fakes a handoff to McFadden and looks left. He pump fakes, looks right, and throws for the end zone. D-Jam runs stride for stride with Tramon Williams, who has any inside move covered. Just as he reaches the goal line, D-Jam lets up and spins around. The ball glides right into his hands and he plants both feet on the grass. The crowd roars and Maverick high fives everyone en route to the sideline. “Now that’s a back-shoulder fade!” Coach Daniel says. One overzealous teammate screams, “Aaron who?” Sebastian Janikowski knocks the extra point through. 17-7, Packers. Harden’s defense allows a few first downs but gets the Packers to punt for the first time all day. Pinned deep with little time left, Daniel decides to let the first half run out. The Knights come out running in the second half. Penner continues to dominate Raji, and this gives McFadden enough room to get four yards on every carry. Occasionally, the Packers’ front seven cheats up, and Maverick audibles to a toss play. Riding McFadden’s big day, the Knights reach field goal range without throwing a pass. When they do, Maverick delivers another perfectly thrown ball to Zach Miller, who breaks a tackle at the five and lunges into the end zone. 17-14, Packers. Defensively, Harden makes an adjustment. The one weak link on Green Bay’s offensive line is left tackle Marshall Newhouse, so Harden puts his best pass rusher on him. Grantzinger typically lines up on the opposite side, but Harden wants to test his versatility. His first snap from the position, Grantzinger blows by Newhouse and gives Rodgers a crushing hit. This leads to a three-and-out, Green Bay’s first of the day. Daniel has no reason to abandon his offensive strategy. McFadden gets ten yards on the first play of the drive thanks to Penner, who plows Raji to the ground off the line, gets to the second level and does the same to A.J. Hawk, then reaches the secondary and blocks Charles Woodson. FOX announcers Kenny Albert and Daryl Johnston take note of this as they watch the replay. “One, two, three blocks,” Johnston says, circling the Packer victims on the screen. “Just a great play by Brian Penner there.” “That’s beautiful football,” sideline analyst Tony Siragusa says. “And by the way,” Albert says, “while we’re talking about the Knights’ center, how about their quarterback?” An infographic appears on screen that shows Maverick’s stat line: 16/16, 145 yards, 2 TD, 0 INT. “As you can see, Jonathan Maverick has yet to miss a pass. This is arguably his best game of the year so far.” On cue, pass rush forces Maverick to roll out and throw the ball away for his first incompletion. He takes it himself on the next play for a few yards, and McFadden converts the third down on a sweep. The drive continues but stalls at the Packers’ forty-three. “Field goal,” Daniel says without hesitation. Janikowski lines up for a sixty-yard kick. The snap and hold are in line, and Janikowski boots it. It carries right down the middle and clears the cross bar by several yards. The crowd screams and the game is tied, 17-17. The Packers’ offense responds with urgency. Rodgers negates Harden’s pressure with quick passes that move the chains. The Knights still hold their own in coverage and don’t miss tackles; Briggs Randall in particular does an admirable job holding Jermichael Finley without a reception. Suddenly, Rodgers finds time and launches a bomb to Greg Jennings, who runs ahead of Michael Huff by a few strides. He catches it and evades Huff’s dive. 24-17, Packers. Ready to respond, the Knights’ offense suffers another big play from Clay Matthews that deflates the drive, and they go three and out. The Packers pick up where they left off, and their drive reaches field goal range as the third quarter ends. “Need a spark here, gentlemen,” Coach Harden says to his defense during the commercial break. “Who’s gonna step up?” Everyone looks around, but nobody speaks. When the defense retakes the field, Sean Brock spells Kamerion Wimbley. He’s still in Harden’s doghouse, but he still deserves snaps against a suspect left tackle. He stares down Newhouse as Rodgers takes the snap. Brock gets around Newhouse with ease and swats at the ball, but Rodgers tucks it and rolls to his left. Brock gets back to his feet and chases down Rodgers, who looks to pass, can’t find anybody, tries to juke Brock, and gets tackled for a nine-yard loss. On second and nineteen, Greg Jennings makes a nice catch to create a manageable third and five. Green Bay spreads out their wide receivers, Los Angeles spreads the secondary, and Rodgers hands off to Starks. He runs through a huge hole with only Randall to beat. Both men lower their shoulders, but Randall gets the better of him, halting his momentum and driving him back a yard. It’s fourth down, and Crosby comes out for the field goal. He strikes it awkwardly, the ball drifts wide left, and the Knights take over with good field position. Suspecting Green Bay may finally be able to counter the up-the-middle runs, Daniel runs plays from a double tight end set, knowing Logan Bishop’s run blocking to be competent. McFadden takes a few off-tackle runs and moves the chains. Still very methodical and patient, the clock ticks down as the Knights mount a drive, down a touchdown. Maverick fakes a handoff and the defense bites. Clay Matthews comes up the middle; Maverick buys himself some time with a pump fake and rolls right. Johnson is single covered downfield. Maverick takes a step forward and launches a pass for the end zone. Johnson sprints for the ball, realizes he’s out of position at the last second, spins, and catches the ball with his outstretched left hand. He falls awkwardly but comes up with the ball in the end zone. Tie game, 24-24. During the ensuing commercial, the Knights’ sideline buzzes with an energy they’ve lacked all season. They’re playing toe to toe with one of the NFL’s best teams, and it looks like it’s going down to the wire. The Packers take over and string together a few first downs. The clock ticks under seven minutes as they face second and two from the fifty. Rodgers fakes a handoff and looks right. He fires to Nelson, but Sam Luck swats it down at the line of scrimmage. While Luck is having a hell of a time against Bryan Bulaga, that’s the third pass he’s batted down. Rodgers takes the snap from shotgun on third and two. Next to Luck, Grantzinger blitzes and Bulaga picks him up; the right guard slides to pick up Luck, who spins right and blows by him. Rodgers has nowhere to go, tucks the ball, and goes down. The ensuing punt pins the Knights deep in their own zone. The defense closes in, and they can’t manage a first down. Lechler lines up to punt from the very back of the end zone. He gets the punt off, and Randall Cobb catches it from midfield. He darts one would-be tackler and finds a lane at the forty. Marlon Martin slices through two blockers, swings his arm, and strikes the ball in Cobb’s hands at the perfect angle; it bounces off the grass and into a crowd. Countless bodies pile on, grabbing for the ball. It takes the refs a whole minute to sort through the chaos, and when it’s all clear, Brian Penner has the ball in his hands. First down, Los Angeles. Maverick takes the field with 3:35 left and all three timeouts—plenty of time. The goal: milk as much clock as possible and get downfield for the game-winning score. One play at a time, Maverick tells himself. He lines up from shotgun on first down, seventy-one yards from the end zone. He takes the snap and scans with a clean pocket. D-Jam and Johnson are covered downfield. He wants to dump it off to McFadden, but pressure comes on the right side. He looks left and spots Bishop wide open; he throws it to him. Bishop catches it, turns upfield, breaks a tackle, and the stadium starts to vibrate. The players on the field feel it first, then the fans. Everyone loses all perspective for a moment, and then the entire stadium is shaking. “Earthquake!” many fans shout. Pandemonium overtakes Farmers Field, then the shaking subsides. Order is restored. Everyone’s attention returns to the field: Bishop still has the ball, and has apparently not stopping running with it. The Packers stand as if the play is over, and Bishop jogs the rest of the way to the end zone. Fans scream for a touchdown as the officials gather. During the conference, the spectators reflect over what they just witnessed. An earthquake. An earthquake in the middle of a football game. Thankfully, no one seems hurt; on the sidelines, some equipment got thrown around but didn’t strike anyone. The California natives in attendance recognize that quake as a relatively weak one, though still obviously very bizarre and unexpected. Finally, head referee Pete Morelli switches on his intercom and faces the near sideline. “During the—play—none of the officials blew their whistle. Therefore, play was never stopped. The result is a touchdown, Los Angeles.” He raises his arms, and the crowd erupts, almost creating another earthquake of their own. The Packers sideline protests, but the Knights kick the extra point and make it 31-24. Still stunned, Coach Harden and the Knights realize Aaron Rodgers has over three minutes on the clock. Rodgers takes over and gets to work. He throws short passes into tight coverage and moves the chains. Harden refuses to call anything resembling prevent defense, trusting his corners in single coverage. He dials up a few blitzes, but Rodgers gets rid of the ball before they can disrupt the play. The two-minute warning arrives as the Packers reach midfield. The Knights’ defense rests and prepares for what needs to be the final stand. Rodgers finds Greg Jennings for five yards and the offense rushes back to the line. Kirk Morrison hurriedly calls the play to his defense as Rodgers takes another shotgun snap. Rose tries to bump Nelson off the line, but he breaks inside for a slant. Rose sprints to recover. Rodgers throws the ball for Nelson, Rose dives to tip it, and the ball bounces off Rose’s hand into midair. Ripka comes running and catches it in his arms. His momentum takes him past the offensive line easily as he runs along the Knights sideline, in a state of madness. Ripka slows down as he nears the end zone, but no one catches him. 38-24, Knights. The fans make noise Farmers Field has never heard, and they keep it up as the Packers get the ball back. Even with all three timeouts, Green Bay can’t manage another score. They get close, but the clock runs out, and the regular season is over. The applause continues as many Knights shake hands with the defeated Packers and wish them luck in the playoffs. While the Knights fans still have playoff football to look forward to, they wonder when their team will be participating; if today’s game is any indication, it won’t be very long. Even Jay Cooper manages to clap a few times. “Maybe these clowns aren’t total dog shit,” he says. As the players and coaches go back to the locker room, they applaud their fans in appreciation. Coach Daniel tries to think of some sentimental, season-closing speech, but just like last week, circumstances do not allow it. Though the ultimate sadness of the season’s end lurks underneath the celebration, sadness can wait until tomorrow. There’s something else going on here. None of the celebrating Knights discusses it, but they feel they have turned a corner. The last stretch of the season has seen them elevate their play, including several impressive performances and now a win against an elite team. It’s a shame it took this long, and maybe it’s a shame the season is only sixteen games, but as far as the players are concerned, “rebuilding” is ancient history. Next season can’t get here soon enough. In the hours following the game, all media analysis of the Packers/Knights game focuses on Logan Bishop’s 71-yard earthquake reception. Per the U.S. Geological Survey, they learn the earthquake registered a 4.3 on the Richter scale. One television analyst, while commending the Knights for their gritty performance, dramatically hails them as “the Knights stationed along the San Andreas Fault.” This line becomes rather catchy, but many find it wordy. Between television commentary, newspaper columns, and internet posts, it evolves into “the Knights along the San Andreas Fault,” then “the Knights on the San Andreas Fault,” and then simply “the Knights of San Andreas.” About to submit his article, Adam Javad uses that last phrase, hopeful the nickname he was looking for will stick. He restructures the entire article to reflect the team’s performance over the final six weeks and concludes with, “The Knights of San Andreas have arrived.” Seconds away from submitting the article to his publisher, he edits it with the intention of trimming a few words. He gets to the end and, on a whim, removes “San” from the sentence. He submits the article and closes his laptop. The Knights of Andreas have arrived.

Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter Eleven – Suck for Luck Tuesday morning, practice gets off to a sluggish start. Something is in the air. The locker room is quieter than usual, as is the field. Players move in and out of drills as if they’re white collar, 9-to-5 employees counting the minutes to clocking out. Though their record has been bad all year, the now 4-10 Knights have officially joined the ranks of non-playoff teams. The rest of the league is gearing up for playoff football, while the Knights’ season is already over. No one really expected a playoff berth this season, of course, but that doesn’t make the rest of the schedule easier to play. Happily (and perhaps mercifully), the Knights’ final two games are at home. And with this week’s game against the Chargers, who are vying for the AFC West, they have a chance to play spoiler against a divisional foe. One player apparently more motivated than his teammates runs through defensive drills as his coordinator barks orders and feedback. “Nice jump there, Sam,” Coach Harden says, iced coffee in hand. “Good anticipation. Again, let’s go.” Sam Luck lowers his body into its five-technique stance and goes again. Now in his second year as a 3-4 defensive end, he has grown accustomed to the position. He has always responded well to change, a trait that has served him well, but he misses the days of playing in a 4-3. He misses Stanford. He feels his NFL career is off to a great start, and that’s the problem—no one else seems to agree. Chance Phillips walks past the film room and spots Wayne Schneider watching footage of someone. Curious, he walks in and identifies the familiar figure: a college quarterback. Wayne hears footsteps and turns around. “Afternoon, Chance,” he says. “You’re wasting your time,” Phillips says. “I know. He’s fun to watch, though, isn’t he?” “There’s no chance he’s ours, for multiple reasons.” Though submersed in his own team as any general manager should be, Phillips is familiar with the hype surrounding the upcoming draft, including the allure of drafting Andrew Luck. The Colts, after winning their first game of the season, still lead the way at 1-13. The Rams and Vikings are both 2-12, but they currently have franchise quarterbacks, or they say they do. It’s a fascinating story for journalists and fans, but for Phillips, it is simply not his concern. “Let me ask you something, Chance.” Schneider stops the tape and spins his chair so he faces Phillips. “Don’t think of answering from a GM’s perspective; your honest opinion doesn’t change anything. If you could do this season over, add a bunch more losses, but it meant that you could draft Andrew Luck, would you do it?” “Wayne, Maverick is our—” “I know he’s our quarterback and that’s not going to change. Like I said, I’m just asking. Not as an owner consulting his GM, but as one football fan to another. Would you do it?” If the season had played out differently, Phillips would have already focused on the draft class more seriously, and he would have watched hours more of tape. He would have seen enough of Andrew Luck to give a thorough analysis of him as a prospect. As it happens, he’s already seen more than enough to answer Schneider’s question. “Yes, I would.” Schneider turns back to the film, ostensibly satisfied. Phillips brushes the thought away, not wanting to dwell on the impossible. “I bet there are a lot of GMs who would say that. It is what it is. And as it happens, we already have one Luck from Stanford.” Radio City Music Hall buzzes in anticipation again Friday evening, this time for the beginning of the second round. This is the first year of the NFL Draft’s new three-day format, with only the first round in the books so far. The league has spent the past nineteen hours discussing the first round and looking ahead to the second. In Los Angeles, fans look forward to the next two rounds after their team drafted their franchise quarterback last night. They are excited but still curious about their new GM, Chance Phillips. He had no choice but to take a QB with the Knights’ first pick; his two picks tonight will tell fans a lot more about how he wants to rebuild the team. They will not have to wait long to find out; the Knights have the second pick of the second round barring a trade, 34th overall. Many fans want a protector for Maverick, possibly Roger Saffold from Indiana. Others want an explosive playmaker like Jahvid Best from California or Arrelious Benn from Illinois. Some want a playmaking safety like Nate Allen from USF or T.J. Ward from Oregon. From inside their war room in Los Angeles, management watches as the second round officially begins and the Rams are on the clock. They’ve had a full night’s sleep and extra hours to debate, but the draft has made it very simple for them: only two players with first round grades remain on their board; they’ll take whomever St. Louis doesn’t. Before long, the pick is in. Chance Phillips and everyone else look down the table at a man on a cell phone. “Saffold,” he says. No one is surprised; inside information indicated the Rams would take him, and now only one first round grade remains on the Knights’ big board. “I suppose that makes matters easier for us,” Phillips says. Everyone nods in agreement. “Thank you, gentlemen,” Coach Harden says. “Always good to get an elite player in the trenches.” “He’s not elite yet, coach.” “He’ll get there.” Commissioner Goodell announces the Saffold pick, and fans cheer. The Rams fans in attendance seem satisfied. As their clock ticks down, no trade offers come in, and Phillips phones in the pick. A few minutes later, Goodell is at the podium again. “With the 34th pick in the 2010 NFL Draft, the Los Angeles Knights select Sam Luck, defensive end, Stanford.” Fans react in mild surprise, not expecting Luck’s name to be called until the middle of the second round. Coach Daniel begins practice Wednesday by assembling the entire team at midfield, the first time all season he has done so. “Gentlemen,” he says, “yesterday’s practice was one of the worst we’ve had all year.” He studies his players’ expressions as this statement sets in. They shouldn’t be surprised, but they need a kick in the ass. “I know what you’re thinking. We’re out of the playoffs, so who cares, right? Right? Well, I’ll tell you what. If you don’t want to play, go turn your jersey in and we’ll find someone who does. Because San Diego is coming into town this Sunday whether we like it or not, and they’ve got something to play for. We will not let them walk all over us in front of our fans. We will not. For the last few weeks, I’ve been saying nonstop that we’re going to fight to the end, playoffs or not. Nothing has changed, gentlemen. We will be fighting to the end.” He stops and looks around; a few players look mildly inspired, and that’s a start. But they need to know mediocre effort in practice will not be tolerated. “Now that we’re all on the same page, laps. Everybody. Now.” Players get to their feet and sulk toward the perimeter of the field. Coach Daniel prepares to watch, making sure no one slacks. He has already informed his coaching staff of the higher standards regarding today’s practice, and that they too must be held accountable, or else face consequences. Truthfully, Daniel is worried about consequences for him, not so much everybody else. The 4-10 record is bad, obviously, but if his team rolls over these last few games, his job will come under heavy scrutiny. He has felt this pressure a few weeks now, and doesn’t expect anything to change. Ah, life in the NFL. He dwells on the game ahead as his players run around the field. Now out of the playoffs, there are some players deeper on the depth chart he would like to get more playing time, but the Knights’ opponent this week is in a playoff race. It would be disrespectful to the game for them to do anything but play to win. On the track, Sam Luck runs his laps while some teammates take their time to get going. He didn’t need a pep talk to feel motivated today; last night he heard a clip on a local sports radio station that has since stuck in his head. The radio host was discussing the Knights, debating how much responsibility falls on GM Phillips so far, and one caller phoned in to talk about the 2010 draft. “I think it’s a total whiff,” the caller said. “Look at the first three picks. Maverick? Miss. Luck? Miss. Veldheer? Miss. You have to go to Grantzinger in the fourth round before you get to somebody half decent.” “Now hold on a second,” the host said. “I think the jury’s still out on all those guys. Maverick, obviously, still has a way to go, and okay, maybe Veldheer isn’t so good, but what’s wrong with Luck?” “He stinks! What’s he doing for the team? He had all these sacks at Stanford, all these spectacular plays. Where are they? He’s a bust.” Luck jogs around the track with the word “bust” echoing in his head. He knows he’s not a bust, but he wants to prove it to the fans. He had, indeed, made many great plays at Stanford. Lots of game-changing sacks and the Pac-10 career record for defensive touchdowns. Though he never told anybody, he didn’t want to get drafted by a team with a 3-4 defense. At 6’5”, 285, he certainly has the frame for it, but he feels the 4-3 is a better showcase for his talents. During the first conversation he had with Merle Harden, his defensive coordinator insisted politely that he was wrong, and that he would make a great 3-4 player if he were willing to work for it. Luck makes a habit of studying his own stats, so he knows that among 3-4 linemen, he is near the top when it comes to QB pressures. And based on all the stats and analysis he can find, his run defense grades near the top of the league as well. His sack total, however, is only two. Without the sacks, Luck may never get credit for the caliber player he is. He has thought of scheduling a meeting with GM Phillips, but he doesn’t want to come off as whiny or ungrateful. After all, he’s only a sophomore in the NFL, too low on the food chain to be playing for leverage. He still has two years left on his rookie contract, though 3-4 ends typically don’t get monster contracts—unless they have the sack numbers. By Wednesday afternoon, the pace on the practice field has picked up, and the overall tempo seems back to normal. Coach Harden monitors his defense during scrimmage drills, not sure how well they’re responding to Daniel’s pep talk. To be fair, Harden has noticed one of his troops slacking off. Maverick takes the snap and scans the field. Harden focuses on the line of scrimmage and his pass rush—or lack thereof. Kamerion Wimbley is resting on the sideline for the moment, and Sean Brock might as well never have subbed for him. “Coach,” Harden says, “can I have a second?” Daniel nods and blows the whistle. The players relax, grateful for the extra rest. Harden makes a beeline for #51. “Brock!” he screams. “What’s your problem?” “What do you mean?” “Look around. See your teammates?” Brock obliges, not sure what’s going on. “Yeah, I guess. What am I looking for?” “Sweat. See how they’re panting, almost like they’re tired?” “So?” “So how come you don’t seem tired?” “Because I’m in better shape than everybody, coach.” Brock smiles to complement his sarcasm. Harden steps forward so his nose is almost touching Brock’s facemask. “You got some fuckin’ balls to be mouthing off, son. You don’t want to play? Fine. Hit the showers. See you tomorrow.” Harden walks away and waves Wimbley back in. Brock sulks toward the locker room, and Daniel blows the whistle to recommence practice. Less than an hour later, the tempo is still good, and energy is amping up. Still in scrimmages, Maverick drops back on a passing play and stares down D-Jam running a post. He fires over the middle and Wilkes jumps, but he can’t reach the overthrown ball. Wilkes jogs back to the huddle with a smile on his face. “I bet Andrew Luck makes that pass,” he says. “What do you think, Mav?” “Shut up, D-Jam,” Maverick says. “Let’s do it again, guys, try to get it right.” “Why don’t you try to get it right?” Maverick ignores him and waits for the formation to set. He calls out the cadence and takes the snap. D-Jam breaks over the middle again, and Maverick throws as hard as he can. The off-target pass drifts left and into Chet Ripka’s hands. Maverick puts his head down, ready to try a different play. “Don’t worry about that one, Mav,” Wilkes says. “I guess it’s just—bad luck. Get it? Bad luck!” He removes his helmet to sprinkle water on his head. Maverick calmly asks for the football, receives it, takes a few steps toward his receiver, and pelts it at his head. It strikes his face near his eye, and before Wilkes can react, Maverick is running toward him, throwing punches. The scuffle gravitates the entire team within seconds. Everyone tries to break up the fight, but the two prove difficult to restrain. Outside the pile, Coach Daniel crosses his arms. He wanted more energy in practice, but this isn’t exactly what he had in mind. The fight eventually ends. Maverick and Wilkes say nothing to each other the remainder of the week. Farmers Field gets loud for the opening kickoff against San Diego, hoping to see division rivals knocked out of the AFC West race. The Knights are 1-5 at home so far, and the fans would like to see at least one more win before the season ends. At least one fan, however, disagrees. From his corner end zone seats, Jay Cooper holds up a massive “SUCK FOR LUCK” sign, praying one of the CBS cameras will pick it up at some point during the game. He has assembled a master plan for his football team: lose the last two games to finish 4-12, secure a top five draft pick, and package Jonathan Maverick to trade up for the number one selection. It’s foolproof; all the Knights have to do is lose. The Chargers, at 8-6, lead the division by a narrow margin; the Broncos are technically 7-7 but currently tied against the Bills in Buffalo. If they lose, the Chargers can clinch the division with a win against Los Angeles. San Diego’s offense takes the field first. Coach Harden excitedly calls an all-out blitz. Phillip Rivers takes the snap. Grantzinger and Morrison rush inside; Wimbley sweeps inside and Randall outside. The Chargers offensive line breaks down immediately. Rivers flushes left, Randall forces him back, and three Knights bring him down simultaneously for an eleven-yard loss. After a meager one-yard-gain by Ryan Mathews, Rivers drops back on third and twenty. No one’s open, but no one’s blitzing. Seeing nobody else, he fires to a wide-open receiver in the middle of the field—Luck bats the pass away and it falls to the ground. The Knights take over with good field position. Maverick lines up under center and fakes a handoff to McFadden. He looks to his primary receiver: Johnson breaks open, but into tight coverage. Maverick fires as hard as he can. Johnson catches it, absorbs a hard hit, and celebrates the first down near midfield. Maverick takes a quick snap from shotgun on a familiar play. The blocking sets up well, and Maverick looks downfield: D-Jam breaks on a deep post route, single covered. Maverick steps up and flings it into the air. Covered tightly by Eric Weddle, Wilkes slows down a bit for the slightly underthrown pass. They both reach the end zone and jump for it, but Wilkes outreaches Weddle and hauls it in. He falls into the end zone for the touchdown. As Farmers Field goes wild in celebration, Maverick and Wilkes meet on the sideline and high five without saying a word. After returning from commercial, CBS announcers inform the audience that the Broncos have defeated the Bills in overtime, meaning a Chargers loss would tie the two teams atop the AFC West. When the Chargers get the ball back, they make the mistake of running Ryan Mathews to Sam Luck’s side. He sidesteps his offensive lineman with ease and brings Mathews down for a loss on consecutive plays. Facing third and long again, Rivers takes a deep drop and finds Antonio Gates short of a first down. With space to work with, Gates tries to juke an oncoming Briggs Randall, but Randall lowers his shoulders and delivers a vicious boom that sends Gates to the grass. Farmers Field roars. This continues the entire first half. The Knights’ defense piles on big hit after big hit, and the Chargers look shaken. Meanwhile, Maverick spreads the ball around turnover-free, and while the Chargers prevent any further big passing plays, some well-timed big runs from McFadden help pile on the points. At halftime, the Knights lead, 21-3. Coach Daniel delivers no pep talk in the locker room. He is genuinely stunned by his team’s dominance, and perhaps San Diego is choking on their end, but whatever the reason, he can’t argue with the success of the first half. The Chargers seem to turn things around in the third quarter. After the Knights go three and out for the first time, Phillip Rivers puts a few throws together, and a screen to Ryan Mathews sets up an Antonio Gates touchdown. 21-10, Knights. Looking to respond, the Knights maintain a balanced attack. Daniel wants to get McFadden more involved in the second half. This leads to a quick third down for Maverick, who is forced out of the pocket immediately. He tucks the ball and runs for the sideline, diving for a first down. Balanced play calling moves the chains and ticks the clock down. On the edge of the red zone, Maverick hears a play-action call. He fakes a handoff to McFadden and rolls left. Miller is open; he throws across his body and knows he’s made a mistake the second the ball leaves his hand. Shaun Phillips intercepts the pass, and San Diego takes over. A nervous silence falls over Knights fans in attendance, while Chargers fans cheer, the momentum finally swinging in their team’s favor. Rivers leads his team down the field quickly and easily. With the third quarter about to end, the Chargers are twelve yards from the end zone, a comeback officially in progress. Rivers takes a shotgun snap and scans the field. Sam Luck breaks to the edge, double-teamed. He splits the two linemen, though they force him forward, behind the pocket. He recovers quickly and sees Rivers still with the ball. He lunges for him as he’s about to throw and knocks the ball out. The nearby referee signals fumble; Luck scoops it up and takes off. The crowd surges back to life as Luck runs across the field, offensive linemen in futile pursuit. Eventually, Malcolm Floyd emerges from the chasers and brings Luck down at the twenty. Luck savors the mob of teammates and the wild applause. That play was definitely reminiscent of his Stanford days. Maverick takes the field with the crowd behind him. The first call is play-action again, and he doesn’t make a mistake. Johnson beats his man off the line and Maverick hits the corner of the end zone. Johnson catches it in stride and drags his second toe through the grass. 28-10, Knights, as the third quarter ends. In the fourth quarter, the Knights tack on another touchdown for good measure while the Chargers only manage another field goal. Knights win, 35-13. As players head to the locker room, Jay Cooper boasts his sign and scolds his team. “You fucking idiots! Can’t even tank correctly! You will suck forever! Forever!” Behind the crowd, Coach Daniel waves at the fans in appreciation. He thinks of a postgame speech and mentally prepares a calm word of commendation for his team, underscoring the need for this focus to continue. But instead of a typically excited locker room, he walks into a frenzy. The Knights celebrate as if they’ve made the playoffs. Gatorade of various flavors is spilled all over the floor, and towels wave everywhere. Stripped down to his jock strap, Brian Penner runs in circles, screaming like a mad man. Though it’s not his style, Luck joins the party, celebrating his two sacks and sack-fumble. Astounded, Daniel realizes there will be no postgame speech. And he knows better than to be perplexed at the celebration for a meaningless win. No win is meaningless. “Strange, isn’t it?” Coach Harden says, standing next to Daniel. “A little bit, coach. But they’ve earned it.” “They definitely earned it.” “I just find it odd, considering the week of practice we had. Maybe they play better when they’re pissed off?” The chaos distracts the conversation; Maverick, in the middle of dressing into street clothes, is submerged by multiple bottles of Gatorade and smacked in the ass with towels simultaneously. The locker room goes wild as Maverick screams, sees Penner among the perpetrators, breaks down into a fit of laughter, and gives him a bear hug. “You know,” Harden says, “I think it’s safe to say we’re coaching a group of uniquely fucked up individuals, coach. And for my money, that’s a good thing.”

Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter Ten – General Management Jerome Jaxson lies back on an all-too familiar spot. The machine slides him through a narrow, circular opening, and a strange sense of calm overtakes his body. Whatever happens, he has accepted it. Two torn ACLs in a three-year period is probably seen as a ticket towards the NFL’s exit door, but he can beat it. He knows he can. As the MRI commences, general manager Chance Phillips waits in his office upstairs. Though anxious to hear a diagnosis for his running back, he contemplates breaking news within the AFC West: the Chiefs have fired head coach Todd Haley. By some strange coincidence, the Chiefs are Los Angeles’ opponent this Sunday. Phillips has always believed head coaches need at least three seasons before being let go. In Haley’s case, he was in the middle of his third season. But from the Chiefs’ perspective, if they knew they would fire Haley at season’s end, what’s the harm in firing him now? That type of thinking is a slippery slope, Phillips thinks. Before long, coaches will be fired after only one season. For the Knights, Phillips gives absolutely no thought to firing Caden Daniel, in his second season with the team, but he suspects some people in the organization are. Phillips looks at the AFC West standings: Broncos and Chargers tied for the lead (7-6), Chiefs (5-8), Knights (4-9). Somehow, a 4-9 team is still alive in week 15. But the Knights would need three consecutive wins and three consecutive losses by both Denver and San Diego. Unlikely. This season is no longer about the playoffs for Los Angeles; it’s about improvement. Putting forth full effort with nothing to play for is a challenge for the coaching staff, and the Knights’ performance these final weeks will go a long way towards Coach Daniel’s standing, whether Phillips likes it or not. He wants to continue rebuilding the team with patience; he doesn’t want Daniel’s third year to start on the hot seat. Downstairs, a team of doctors analyzes the results of Jaxson’s scan. The conversation doesn’t last long. The head doctor leaves the room, finds Jaxson waiting outside, and delivers the news. A few minutes later, he heads upstairs to the general manager’s office to do the same. Phillips hears a knock on his open door. “Let’s hear it,” Phillips says. “MRI scan showed a slight tear of the MCL, but there’s no cartilage damage.” “Just an MCL? The ACL’s fine?” “Yes, sir. Torn MCL, nothing more. The other ligaments in his knee are a hundred percent.” “Recovery time?” “Looks like either a grade 1 or 2 tear, so I’d say six weeks is a fair estimate.” “Plan a recovery for as long as you need. No rush at all.” “You got it.” Relieved, Phillips pauses, then leaves to find Daniel. With only three games left and six weeks of recovery, he doesn’t see any sense clinging to hope that Jaxson can return for the Super Bowl. He’ll be on injured reserve within hours. The day after the conclusion of the 2009 regular season, members of the Pittsburgh Steelers front office come to work with a bad taste in their mouths. As defending Super Bowl champions, a 9-7 season and no playoff berth is far below what everyone expected this year. Assistant general manager Chance Phillips maintains an optimistic stance. With the emergence of the Bengals, the AFC North has become a very strong division. The Steelers need to make changes to reach the playoffs next year, but Phillips believes they can. And they’re still the defending champions for a few more weeks. In his office, preparing for a meeting, the phone rings. It’s a number Phillips now recognizes. His heartbeat goes up a little bit. “Hello?” “Good morning, Chance, this is Wayne Schneider. Catch you at a bad time?” “Not at all, sir. What can I do for you?” Phillips knows exactly where this is going, based on limited conversations the two have had over the last few weeks, but it still feels shocking. Maybe Phillips never thought Schneider was serious; maybe he was too caught up in the Steelers’ playoff push to seriously consider it. “I’ll get straight to it, Chance. As you know, I’m searching for a general manager for the Raiders/soon-to-be Knights, and I’d like to set up an interview with you, if you’re interested.” Phillips hesitates. He knew this question was coming, but it isn’t any easier to answer it. “Of course I’m interested. If you get in contact with my agent, I’m sure he’ll be happy to set up an interview.” “Outstanding. I look forward to speaking with you, Chance.” “Likewise, Mr. Schneider.” They hang up, and Phillips contemplates the potentially new path on which his career is headed. He has always wanted a GM job somewhere, but he figured he still had a few more years left in Pittsburgh. But if there is an offer on the table, he cannot pass it up. He leaves for a room with Steelers’ management and ownership, not sure whether he should mention anything yet. Wednesday morning, the Knights practice for the upcoming Chiefs game. Inside team headquarters, Chance Phillips analyzes his football team alone. He will have countless meetings with the rest of his management staff and Wayne Schneider, of course, and for good reason. Bouncing ideas off multiple people with various perspectives is the optimal way of coming up with the best solutions and ideas. But Phillips relishes time to reflect by himself. As general manager, he takes full responsibility for the team’s performance. If the Knights turn into Super Bowl champions one day, Phillips will be the man who built the team. He knows he can’t do that as a good GM; he needs to be a great GM. And to be a great GM, he has to see things no one else sees, make decisions no one else would make. He has come to appreciate the team’s progress in recent weeks. The roster is full of young players, littered with stopgap veterans, and devoid of superstars. So 4-9 isn’t a terrible record in perspective; Phillips would be thrilled with a five- or six-win season. The Knights have a long way to go. To eventually take that big step, though, the team will need superstars. Obviously, Jonathan Maverick will have to be one. The Knights, like any NFL team, need a great quarterback. Phillips feels nervous at Maverick’s lukewarm progression thus far, but considering the typical path of high draft pick quarterbacks, it’s a miracle he hasn’t busted yet. For Maverick to progress, he needs an upgraded offensive line—Phillips tables that thought for the moment. As for receivers, Alex Johnson is having a surprisingly strong rookie season. D-Jam, while inconsistent, flashes moments of brilliance. He is a free agent to be, so Phillips has a decision to make with him in the coming months. Darrius Heyward-Bey, who has been relegated to slot receiver duties, is a black spot on the roster, along with his $7.65 million average salary. Phillips looks forward to cutting him loose. Zach Miller is still a quality starter, and hopefully Logan Bishop’s performance against Minnesota wasn’t a fluke. Defensively, a lot of players are establishing themselves as quality starters. Phillips sees Briggs Randall as the future defensive captain, and Malik Rose has certainly flashed elite potential, though he also is a free agent to be. He’ll need to find a replacement for the aging Chet Ripka, and while he’s at it, the Knights will need as many quality players in the secondary as possible to combat the evolving passing league that is the NFL. In the trenches, Sam Luck is panning out exactly as planned, but the defense still needs a long-term nose tackle. As far as special teams, Los Angeles has arguably the league’s best kicker/punter tandem in Sebastian Janikowski and Shane Lechler. Phillips sees no reason to change that. Back to the offense, the Knights’ biggest weakness is, as it has been all year, the offensive line. Brian Penner is having a fantastic season, but the other four positions need improvement. At left tackle, though, Jared Veldheer has strung together a few impressive weeks. Phillips knew he had a high ceiling when he drafted him, and if he finishes the season on a high note, Phillips will leave left tackle alone and look to upgrade other positions. If he can find a solid left guard and if Veldheer continues to pan out, the Knights will have a very strong left side to their line. With so much youth and potential spread out all over the roster, Phillips will have fewer positions of high priority in the draft. More importantly, he will finally have enough financial flexibility to be aggressive in free agency, should the opportunity present itself. The first phase of general manager duties has ended. Over the last month, the Raiders have assembled a coaching staff and finalized all management positions. They are days away from officially becoming the Los Angeles Knights, at which time free agency will begin. That promises to be a tricky task for Phillips. He has inherited a terrible salary cap situation: too many overpaid players with ugly cap figures. Also, the Raiders have the third overall pick in this draft, and whomever it ends up being (probably a quarterback) will receive a massive contract. Drafting a quarterback will allow Phillips to release JaMarcus Russell, but doing so will also create dead money against the cap for the next few years. Further complicating the situation is the impending switch from a 4-3 to a 3-4 base defense under Merle Harden. With little room to maneuver, Phillips and Harden will first need to determine which players can transition to a position in the 3-4. Defensive end to outside linebacker, defensive tackle to five-technique end, etc. Phillips simply doesn’t have the cash to sign a wave of new players for the front seven. The Raiders/Knights are a long-term rebuilding project from both a football and financial standpoint. Phillips knew this when he took the job, but he still considers the first year critical. His decisions in the coming months will go a long way toward clearing cap space in the future, at which point he will finally be able to spend some money. For the moment, there is hardly a decision Phillips can make without financial consequences. On his way out of headquarters Friday, Phillips stops by Wayne Schneider’s office, happy to see it occupied. He hopes this conversation will be brief. “Wayne,” he says, poking his head through the doorway. “Afternoon, Chance. On your way out for the weekend?” “Yes, I just wanted to ask you something really quick.” “Shoot.” “I know we haven’t talked about this in detail, but—you’re not thinking of making any coaching changes, right?” Schneider says nothing. Phillips tries to think of something to add, but Schneider finally speaks. “As of now, I don’t see a good reason to fire Daniel or anybody else. You and I were both in this for the long haul, and we’re just now getting on our feet financially. I look forward to seeing what happens this offseason.” That isn’t exactly the most committal response, but it’s good enough for now. “Good to hear,” Phillips says. “Have a good weekend, Wayne.” Phillips doesn’t like having to ask Schneider for permission on any team decision. As general manager, he wants final say on any and all decisions, but it was part of his hiring that he and Schneider share decision-making duties regarding coaches. Phillips has come to regret this; while he likes Wayne and appreciates his insight, he’s a businessman, not a football man. But whether Phillips likes it or not, he’s the owner. Chance leaves and drives through stretches of bumper-to-bumper traffic to his home just outside Los Angeles. He underestimated the increase in congestion moving from Pittsburgh to L.A., and while he thinks he’s used to it by now, it hasn’t stopped frustrating him. He arrives home and sees his wife, Melissa, preparing dinner; he has gotten home just in time. Two-year-old Kimmy is in her booster seat, waiting for mommy to feed her. Jack and Max take their seats, and Chance remembers Jack’s 11th birthday is coming up. Dinner is barely on the table and seven-year-old Max says, “So dad, when are we leaving tomorrow?” “We’ll have to leave here around four. Jack, don’t hold your fork like that.” “Why can’t we leave with the team, dad?” Chance thinks about this for a second; the answer to that question is perhaps too complicated for adults to understand. “We can’t bother them, Jack. They have a game to get ready for.” “Dad,” Max says. “Some of the kids at school said if the Knights keep losing, everybody’s gonna get fired.” Max sounds tragically excited about that last part. “Is it true?” As Chance gets ready to respond, he catches an unsettling stare from Melissa. “No. Nobody’s getting fired. Pass the potatoes, please.” In an awkward example of timing, free agency for the NFL begins in the middle of summer. The lockout of 2011 has recently ended, and while the draft is already over, the free agent market is finally open. While the Knights have reached out to several free agents and recently completed their deal with the Pittsburgh Steelers that netted them Malik Rose for Justin Houston, Chance Phillips and the front office have their focus set on Nnamdi Asomugha. Phillips waits with the rest of management and some coaches for news in real time. Free agency has been on for almost a week, but he suspects news on Asomugha is coming soon. The Knights currently have a strong offer in place, but the Jets and Cowboys are also in the running, and not far behind. Over a year after being hired, Phillips has made genuine progress on alleviating the franchise’s salary cap issues, and even though cap room is his top priority, he believes a major deal for Asomugha is worth it. Pairing him with Rose could form a dominant secondary, a critical step towards a great defense. Phillips’ phone rings. “It’s Nnamdi’s agent.” The room goes quiet. “Hello?” Phillips listens, and his face turns to an expression of shock. “Let me get back to you.” He hangs up and leans forward, hands pressed on the edge of the table. “I think we’re out, gentlemen.” “Someone up their offer?” Wayne Schneider asks. “No, a new player,” Phillips says. “Who?” “Philly. Five years, sixty million. Twenty-five guaranteed.” “Damn. They sprang up at the last second.” “No, they were there all along.” Phillips stands up straight. “I’m not shocking anyone when I say we can’t match that offer. I’m also not shocking anyone by saying this is a disappointment.” He looks at Coach Harden’s expression; disappointment doesn’t begin to describe it. “But let’s look at the bright side to this: losing Asomugha means a lot more cap space for us. It gives us a lot more flexibility. We’ll wait for final confirmation on Asomugha, but in the meantime, let’s look at the rest of our board.” Phillips tries to focus on other free agent targets, avoiding the alternative he failed to mention. Asomugha would have required a huge cap number, yes, but losing him means losing an elite player. And elite players aren’t easy to find. The Knights’ front office may have gained an economic advantage, but the outlook for the 2011 season has become worse. From the luxury suites atop Arrowhead Stadium, Chance and Max Phillips watch the Knights and Chiefs do battle. It’s late in the fourth quarter, and the Knights trail, 24-16. On third down, the offense lines up in shotgun. Maverick takes the snap, the blocking breaks down, and he goes down for a sack. Phillips scribbles a note on his piece of paper; that’s about the tenth time the Chiefs have done a stunt on the right side, and it’s been highly effective. “Daddy, we stink,” Max says. Phillips scribbles faster. Bringing one of his sons to road games with him is a tradition he has continued ever since Jack turned six, but it was certainly much more tolerable when he was the assistant GM. Now, he prefers a heightened focus to the game. He can analyze the statistics later like anyone else, but he believes at the heart of an understanding of a football game is watching it unfold live. “Yes, yes we do stink,” he eventually says. Chance scribbles occasional notes and Max munches on his second hot dog (“Don’t tell your mother,” Chance says.) as the Chiefs maintain their lead. Chance attributes Kansas City’s performance to Todd Haley’s firing. Such a decision always riles up the locker room in the short term, and today, the Knights are the victims of it. Chance can’t help but wonder how the Knights locker room would respond to their head coach being fired. For their part, Los Angeles’ play has been overwhelmingly average. The defense has been beat for a few big plays and the offense has shot themselves in the foot with turnovers, two stories that are getting a little old by now. The Chiefs convert another first down and the crowd celebrates as the clock ticks down. They run the ball a few more times, and the game is over. “Well, that’s it,” Chance says. “Sorry you couldn’t see us win a game, buddy.” “That’s okay, dad. Jack saw the team lose too.” Chance laughs. “I guess you’re right. Let’s go.” He tries to put on a smiling face with his son, but as they make their way out of Arrowhead Stadium, Chance can only think of one thing: the Knights are officially eliminated from the playoffs.

Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter Nine – Returns Devin Hester takes the opening kickoff, sees a hole, accelerates, and is leveled by linebacker and special teams captain Marlon Martin. Farmers Field cheers for the big hit, and the instant replay entices oh’s and ah’s from fans, many of whom did not know Martin’s name before today. He gets their attention again when Hester takes his first punt return of the afternoon and gets punished in a similar way. The energy created by Martin’s play seems to carry over to the Knights’ defense. Chicago’s receivers get no separation in coverage, and L.A.’s front seven continuously dominates their offensive line. All this clearly flusters Jay Cuter, who ends the first quarter with two interceptions and eleven passing yards. The Knights’ offense, unfortunately, fails to take advantage. Julius Peppers is doing what Jared Allen did last week, forcing Maverick is roll right constantly. Except, unlike Minnesota, the Bears secondary has players like Charles Tillman and Tim Jennings. With a nonexistent pass game, Coach Daniel tries his best to counter by running the football. In practice this week, Michael Bush tweaked his ankle and was eventually declared out for the game, so Darren McFadden spells his carries with second-year back Jerome Jaxson. Facing 3rd and 5, Daniel substitutes Jaxson for McFadden. Maverick lines up in shotgun and the Bears back off, expecting a pass. Maverick hands off to Jaxson, who bursts through a hole in the offensive line. He runs for Brian Urlacher and jukes right. He gets around Urlacher but is still brought down—for a seven-yard gain. First down. Daniel feels a little extra celebration for Jaxson’s play, but he subdues it, not wanting to reveal his personal bias. He’s rooting for the kid, and with Bush out, this game figures to be the most he’s seen the field so far. The crowd at Rentschler Field amps up for the opening kickoff. Their beloved Huskies are 4-0, though tonight’s game against Syracuse is their first true challenge. Expectations are high for the 2009 season, their fifth under head coach Caden Daniel. From the sidelines, Daniel watches his kick return team get set, especially junior Jerome Jaxson. Two and a half years ago, the four-star prospect from Long Beach, California was destined for USC. At the last second, Daniel reached out to the young man and discovered his wish to move away from his troubled California lifestyle. A few days later, Jaxson shocked everyone by picking up the Huskies hat during his selection press conference. He has since become the crown jewel of that recruiting class and a star player for the Huskies. Daniel expects Jaxson to get some Heisman buzz this season, and he seems primed to be a top draft pick in the NFL, something Daniel believes will encourage him to forgo his senior season. Jaxson eagerly awaits the opening kick as it flies through the air. He catches it and runs forward as the coverage sets up in front of him. He drifts left and spots an opening. He accelerates, and an unseen defender flies in from the right and hits him. His right knee feels like it’s on fire. He doesn’t realize he has fallen to the ground and no longer has the football, and he screams uncontrollably in pain. The crowd of forty thousand goes silent. Jaxson does not return to the game, and the following day, UConn’s worst fears are confirmed: torn ACL and MCL. Jaxson’s junior year is over. After three quarters, a pair of inept offenses has led to a 10-6 lead for Chicago. With a 7-3 record, the Bears have their sights set on the playoffs, and they expect to beat the lowly Knights. The Knights take the field on offense with Jerome Jaxson as their running back. Daniel has watched he and McFadden split carries evenly today, and he believes Jaxson is playing better. He is more committal with the ball and seems to find more running lanes than McFadden, though neither one is getting much blocking. The Bears defense shows blitz, and Maverick calls a blocking adjustment. From the backfield, Jaxson hears it and gets ready. He takes the handoff and runs left. He sees a hole and guns for it. A Bears defender closes the gap and he stops, moves right, and takes off. Somehow, no one brings him down. He finds some daylight and turns on the jets. Safety Chris Conte is the last man to beat; Jaxson stutter-steps and cuts left. Conte falls to the ground, and Jaxson’s speed takes it the rest of the way. 13-10, Knights. Jaxson tries to dance in the end zone but is too tired for anything excessive. He returns to the sideline and gives his head coach a hug. Devin Hester returns the ensuing kickoff from deep in the end zone. Marlon Martin heads for him along the sideline but can’t dodge a Bears blocker. He manages to get around him but feels his jersey being held. At the last second, he dives for Hester, but misses. He looks around for a flag—nothing. Meanwhile, Hester takes the return all the way. 17-13, Bears. The offense tries to strike back, but Jaxson can’t make any electrifying plays, and Maverick can’t find any open receivers. The Bears soon get the ball back but fail to do much with it. Before long, the Knights have the ball with a 1:25 to go, the would-be game-winning drive. The Bears back off in prevent defense. Maverick takes a snap from his own thirty. Johnson runs a curl route and Maverick flings it to him for ten yards. First down. Maverick steps up with rushers coming on the outside. Feeling the pressure, he spots Miller over the middle. He fires, and Miller catches it in traffic. First down, and the Knights are across midfield. Maverick stares down D-Jam for a fade route. He’s single-covered, so Maverick takes a chance. D-Jam tracks the ball, jumps, and comes down with it. He tries to get his second foot down in bounds. After he hits the ground, the nearest official declares it a catch. The Bears sideline objects, but Maverick sets the huddle. No challenge comes from upstairs. From the twenty, Maverick drops back, then takes the ball himself through the middle. He’s got grass in front of him, but the Bears close in quickly, so he slides down at the ten. He looks up at the clock: 0:21, 0:20—Coach Daniel calls timeout, L.A.’s last of the game. Daniel calls a quick pass play to get closer to the end zone, then a screen pass to Jaxson, hoping to catch Chicago off guard. Maverick takes the quick snap and fires to Bishop, who catches it and is hit immediately for a five-yard gain. As the clock ticks down, the crowd goes frantic as Maverick sets the formation. He takes the snap from shotgun and looks to the end zone, trying to sell it, then flings the ball to the flat. Jaxson catches it and watches the blocking set up in front of him. Linebackers force him toward the sideline, where Tim Jennings waits for him. He’s forced through his blockers and lunges for the end zone. Defenders hit him in midair and he falls to the grass. He’s past the goal line and into the end zone—but the football isn’t. Several Bears defenders recover the fumble on the three-yard line to end the game. As the seventh round of the 2010 NFL Draft begins, the Knights prepare for their final selection. It’s their first draft under new management, and while they’ve followed a wait-and-see strategy with their big board so far, they have a pre-arranged agreement to draft a certain player if he falls to their last pick. He does. “Well, coach,” Chance Phillips says, “I imagine this is a sentimental selection for you.” “Sure is, Chance,” Caden Daniel says. “But I also believe he’s the best player available at this point.” Phillips doesn’t necessarily disagree; it becomes more difficult to define “best player available” as the draft hits the late stages, and Phillips always liked taking chances in the later rounds. He also likes drafting running backs late, but his personal sleeper, James Starks, is gone, so Jerome Jaxson is their man. Medically, Jaxson’s rehab is going well, and the Knights’ medical staff has given the green light. His forecast for the 2010 season isn’t promising, but he should be healthy by November, at the very least. And the Knights have a competent backfield; they’re not counting on anything from Jaxson immediately. Phillips, though, likes the potential for returns on a long-term investment. As suggested by Phillips, Wayne Schneider abandons protocol and lets Coach Daniel deliver the call to his former player. During practice, Jerome Jaxson thinks nothing of his team’s 3-9 record, nothing of the fact that there are only four games left in the season. He thinks only of his breakout performance, and how it was marred by his costly fumble. He had a great game, he knows, but it would have been legendary had he gotten the ball across the goal line for the game-winning touchdown. Jaxson treats every practice rep as if it’s the last play of the Bears game all over gain. Despite his error, he feels reinvigorated by finally seeing substantial playing time. After his ACL fully healed late last season, he received a few carries here and there, never in any key situations. He was shocked by how much quicker defenses were, how quickly they closed gaps, compared to college. More scattered carries this year have slowly accustomed him to the speed of the game, but now he has finally broken through. To be fair, he is and has been the team’s primary punt returner. And despite no touchdowns (yet), Jaxson is proud of his progress, though he feels he has yet to reach the elite ranks among guys like Devin Hester and Josh Cribbs. As the offensive players run through drills, Coach Daniel migrates to the other side of the field and finds his defensive coordinator. An idea has been stuck in his mind since Sunday, and he has refrained from mentioning it until now. “Coach,” Daniel says, “got a second?” “Sure thing, boss,” Merle Harden says. “What’s on your mind?” “Kirk Morrison. How is he playing, in your estimation?” “Coach, we talked about Kirk in film review. You know how I feel.” “Well, how about this: Marlon Martin. You think it’s time to give him some reps at linebacker?” Harden thinks. “It’s not the worst idea I’ve heard. I’m not about to pull my defensive captain from the field, though. And Randall’s playing too good to ride the bench.” “It’s your call, coach. Just wanted to throw it out there.” Marlon Martin sits on the couch at home, glued to his Xbox 360 console, his favorite offseason habit. It piles up hours devoid of physical activity, but Martin works out enough to make up for it. Besides, he’s a free agent; all he can do is wait right now. His contract with the Atlanta Falcons expired weeks ago, and despite being Atlanta’s special teams captain, he hasn’t been re-signed yet. His blowhard agent, who he’s contractually locked to, is setting his price high, marketing him as the best special teams player in the NFL, excluding including kick returners. Martin hates that tag. He’s always considered himself a linebacker, not a special teamer. He played linebacker in high school and at Penn State, where he was a two-time second team All-American. But after drafting him the sixth round, the Steelers found a place for him on special teams, and that’s where he honed his skills. After three years, they cut him loose, and he bounced from team to team the next few seasons. The Falcons are his fourth team of a career that is seven years old. Will they re-sign him, or will he soon have a fifth? His phone rings; it’s that damn agent. “Marlon! How’s my favorite special teamer doing?” “What do you want?” “My man, I have delivered. I know you were skeptical, but I promised you we’d get an offer with terms we wanted, and I’m calling to tell you it has happened.” “Um, great, I guess. Atlanta?” “Nope. Los Angeles. They matched the details I insisted upon: two years, 2.2 million. We’ll give Atlanta the choice to match those terms, of course, and if they do, I play both teams against each other until one ups their offer.” That sounds fair. Martin is disappointed he’s not a Falcon, but they still have the chance to match the contract. With his 29th birthday approaching, Martin is reaching the point where winning is his top priority. Atlanta is coming off a 13-3 season and, despite going one-and-done, has a bright future, Martin feels. He wants to stay there. But if it’s not going to happen, Los Angeles doesn’t sound so bad. When Chance Phillips first hears that Marlon Martin is seeing reps at inside linebacker, he’s intrigued. He saw Morrison as a defensive cornerstone of the roster he inherited, but the last two seasons haven’t gone well for him. At first, Phillips (and everyone) thought it was a byproduct of switching to the 3-4; now it appears his skills have simply deteriorated. Briggs Randall is playing great, but the Knights possess neither depth nor a replacement for Morrison. Martin is now potentially that replacement, even though Phillips only signed him for special teams. He knows how good of a linebacker he was at Penn State, but that was a long time ago. Coach Harden watches closely as Martin takes reps alongside Kirk Morrison. Everything seems fine: his technique is solid, he knows the playbook, and he tackles well. Nothing compares to real game experience, though. On the other side of the ball, Michael Bush is given a clean bill of health, and Coach Daniel breaks the news that he has been demoted to third string. Jerome Jaxson’s performance against Chicago has earned him second string, and Daniel plans to spell him and McFadden again this Sunday. The Knights arrive in Miami on Saturday welcomed by warm weather, abnormal for an away game. The Dolphins started the year 0-7 but have since climbed to 4-8, one game better than Los Angeles. It’s the same setup as the Minnesota game: two bad teams, nothing to fight for. But for the Knights, any win is a confidence booster right now. Temperature at opening kickoff is eighty degrees, the best weather the Knights have seen outside of L.A. this season. After serving his usual special teams duty, Marlon Martin waits on the bench for his turn. Morrison and Randall start as inside linebackers and stay there the first few possessions, during which Miami scores no points. Miami’s third offensive possession starts with the Knights leading 3-0. Martin is summoned and spells Randall, who high-fives him on the way. Finally, Martin sees the field from the linebacker position. He barely has time to size up the offense before Matt Moore hands off to Reggie Bush, who runs for Martin. He tries to figure out which lane to take, and an offensive lineman plants him. Bush runs past for a nine-yard gain. Martin gets set for 2nd and 1. Everyone anticipates a Miami run. Moore hands off to Bush again, and Martin finds his lane immediately. He collides with Bush at the line of scrimmage, a pile forms, and forward progress halts. On 3rd and 1, Martin covers Bush out of the backfield. He runs a route and Martin runs to his right, ready for a pass. But Moore looks the other way and finds Anthony Fasano for a first down catch. Martin runs toward the play as it ends, and guard Richie Incognito gives a late shove to Zack Grantzinger, putting him on the ground. Grantzinger pops up, ready to gauge Incognito’s eyes out, but Martin gets in between the two. A shouting match ensues, and Martin says nothing, remaining between both players. The officiating crew restores order, and no penalties are called. Martin readies for 1st and 10 with his eyes on Incognito. Moore takes the snap and drops back. Incognito backs up, ready to block any blitzing linebackers. Morrison fakes a blitz and Incognito slides left; but Morrison backs off, and Martin charges the line. He lowers his shoulders and, despite being eighty pounds lighter, plows Incognito backwards onto his own quarterback. Moore stumbles, and Grantzinger finishes him off for the sack. Incognito chirps at Martin, who walks away without a word. The rest of the game continues in the same way; the Knights have the edge physically and mentally. They seem hungrier and play better in every way. Anytime Miami’s offense strings together a few first downs, the Knights’ defense responds with a big sack or interception. Offensively, Jerome Jaxson provides a steady run game, freeing Jonathan Maverick to distribute the ball to all his receivers. Maverick runs his offense with precision and accuracy. Though Coach Daniel fights it, the players feel their one-play-at-a-time focus lift a little. They play relaxed, able to admit, for the first time all year, they are dominating their opponent. They lead 10-0 after the first quarter, 17-3 at halftime, and 24-10 after the third quarter. For Jaxson, he feels almost as if he’s back at UConn, back in control. He sidesteps defenders like they’re college opponents. By the fourth quarter, he’s over a hundred yards rushing with one touchdown—and no fumbles. More importantly, the Knights have a 27-10 lead. Coach Daniel calls another run from the sidelines. There’s still eight minutes to go, and the Knights have let similar victories slip away before, but he feels confident this time. Facing third down from the edge of field goal range, he calls a toss to Jaxson, riding the hot hand. Maverick studies the defense and flips the play. Jaxson takes the pitch left and guns for the first down marker. He passes it and jumps over a would-be tackler, who hits his leg and spins him midair. As soon as he hits the ground he feels it, a burning pain in his knee. His right knee. He writhes in pain again and knows something’s torn. His teammates come to his aid and the Dolphins sideline goes quiet around him. On the opposite sideline, Coach Daniel watches in horror as the Knights’ trainers rush toward the commotion. After a few minutes, Jaxson is taken to the locker room by cart and given applause from what’s left of the Sun Life Stadium crowd. The final minutes of the game tick down quickly for the Knights. They add a field goal to their lead and Miami is unable to do anything else on offense. Knights win, 30-10. In the locker room, Coach Daniel commends the team for a dominating performance and insists there is still much progress that can be made with three games to go. He notes that despite their 4-9 record, they have not yet been eliminated from playoff contention. Conversation picks up around the locker room as players dress for a long flight home. Marlon Martin seeks out his defensive coordinator for evaluation on his play. “I’ve got eleven guys to watch every play, Marlon,” Harden says. “We’ll review film as usual and let you know.” Martin nods despite the unhelpful feedback. After finally breaking through and seeing defensive snaps, his career outlook has completely changed. He only played a handful of series, and mostly in garbage time, but it’s a start. Is a starting job possible in the near future? Martin suddenly feels thankful he signed a two-year contract with Los Angeles. A few minutes later, Daniel makes his way to his postgame press conference. Per custom, he opens with injury news. “Jerome Jaxson suffered a right knee injury. We’re not exactly sure what at this point, though x-rays are negative. He will have an MRI tomorrow in Los Angeles.”

Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter Four – The Receiving End Maverick drops back and enjoys a clean pocket, finally. He scans the field and sees Johnson running a post corner. He breaks perfectly and Maverick fires toward the sideline. Johnson looks up, snags the ball, and drags his second foot in bounds for an eighteen-yard grab. The Farmers Field crowd cheers modestly. The Patriots have a 30-14 lead well into the third quarter, and a comeback seems unlikely. The Knights have actually been moving the ball on offense, but some red zone turnovers took points off the board. The defense, on the other hand, has no answer for the trio of Wes Welker, Rob Gronkowski, and Aaron Hernandez. Even with good red zone defense, New England may hang fifty points on the board. Alex Johnson tosses the ball to the nearest ref and jogs back to the huddle. He’s not sure, but that catch may have put him over 100 yards for the day. Despite losing, he’s enjoying this game much more than last week, when he frequent trips to Revis Island suffocated his production. He knows he’s only starting because the Knights lack talent at his position, but the situation is giving him some quality playing time, something he didn’t think he would receive as a rookie. Three picks into the second round of the 2011 NFL Draft, the Knights war room starts to get some phone calls. Their slot is three picks away, but the Bengals have just taken Andy Dalton from TCU, and a quarterback run could begin now. The Broncos are on the clock. “Trade,” someone down the table announces. “It’s San Fran, moving up.” A few around the table speculate, Chance Phillips among them. A few minutes later, the 49ers take Colin Kaepernick from Nevada, and the phone calls stop. Kaepernick as a prospect intrigues Phillips, as does his draft slot. Did he make a mistake drafting Maverick so high in last year’s draft? Is the “if you need a quarterback, draft a quarterback” adage wrong? Kaepernick probably won’t start right away, but his average salary, probably somewhere around one-and-a-half million, will look much more appealing than Maverick’s eight-digit figure. Phillips snaps out of it as the Browns select Jabaal Sheard from Pittsburgh and the Knights go on the clock with the 38th overall pick. He’s got Maverick, whether he likes it or not, and after missing on Julio Jones last night, he needs to draft him a target. “Looks like we have our man,” Phillips says. “Coach, here’s your go-to receiver.” “I’m sure Jonathan will appreciate it,” Caden Daniel says. “I think it’ll take some time, but his route-running is as good as anybody in this class.” A few scouts around the room murmur in agreement. Phillips doesn’t disagree, but even at 6’2”, his athletic ability can’t compare to guys like A.J. Green and Julio Jones. He picks up the phone and says, “Johnson, wide receiver from Iowa.” The fans who have stuck around until the end file out of Farmers Field, taking in the fact that the season is one-fourth over. With a 1-3 record, it may already be over altogether. The Knights walk for the locker room, heads down. As they get to the tunnel, they hear shouts of disapproval from the fans overhead. “You fucking bums!” one particular fan named Jay Cooper shouts. “Is that what I pay a thousand dollars for? To watch you idiots play like shit all season?” Fueled by the $10 beers plus the whiskey he smuggled into the game, Cooper leaps in an attempt to traverse the guardrail. Two security men restrain him and he flails about in their grasp. “This is bullshit! This is bullshit! Get it together!” Johnson tucks his head and keeps walking. The locker room is somber, the opposite of last week’s post-game celebration. He finds his locker and starts removing equipment. Just as the shoulder pads come off, his head coach approaches. “Good game today, Alex,” Daniel says. “Thanks, coach. Wish we could’ve played better as a team.” “It’s a long season. We will improve, one game at a time. For now, though, we’re gonna give you some more looks than usual in practice this week, see what you can do. You up for that?” “Yes, sir.” “Good man.” A few lockers down, a teammate eavesdrops on the conversation as he throws his jersey down. Despite four quarters of play, it looks fresh, devoid of grass stains. The only strange thing about it is the unusually long surname squeezed on the back. Da’Jamiroquai Jefferspin-Wilkes has a memorable name, but he wants people to remember him for his play, an impossible task seeing only 3 targets per game. “Why don’t you share some of those catches, rook?” he asks Johnson. “What?” “Man, never mind.” Wilkes strolls to his quarterback’s locker. Maverick is brushing his hair. “Dude, why you let that rookie steal my balls?” “Johnson was open, D-Jam. What do you want from me?” “I want my targets, man. Johnson, he can’t get no yards after the catch. We only put up 14 points. Get me in space, I’m lethal.” “I throw it where I want, bro. Take it up with the coaches.” “Man, fuck this shit.” This is unfair. Wilkes is the best receiver on the team by far, and he knows it. This time last year, he was setting the NFL on fire, only his second year in the league. Things have changed now, he understands that, but there’s still no reason for him to be losing targets to some rookie named Johnson from Montana or wherever the hell he went to college. He leaves his quarterback en route to a conversation with the coaches. Chance Phillips proceeds with permission through the door and into Wayne Schneider’s office. He’s been in here many times, of course, but he always marvels at the view of downtown Los Angeles. Phillips has essentially the same view, but Schneider’s looks more majestic from the second floor. “Chance!” Schneider says, rising from his chair. “How’s the big board coming?” They shake hands. “Almost done. You get a chance to do any research?” “Yes I did.” Schneider returns to the chair and reclines. “Da’Jamiroquai Jefferspin-Wilkes. Quite a mouthful.” “I really like the investment, potentially.” “What kind of contract are we looking at?” “One year. Five, maybe six million.” “You know his agent is—” “Rosenhaus, yeah.” “I know you’ve never negotiated with any of his players, but, have you met the guy yet?” “Haven’t had the pleasure.” “Anyone else in on Wilkes at the moment? Free agency’s been open quite awhile.” “A few teams are checking in, no official offers yet. But there will be.” “He’s got quite a history.” “Yes he does. But as I said, it would only be a one-year investment. Could be cut loose at any time.” “Tell me if I’ve got any of this wrong.” Schneider picks up a piece of paper from his desk. “Top recruit to USC, charged with assault two years later, transfers to Coastal Carolina and puts up astronomical stats. Fourth overall pick to Seattle, complains about the weather, has a good rookie year, then a great second season until he’s arrested on gun charges, suspended indefinitely, and surprisingly cut by Seattle at the conclusion of his suspension. He’s a free agent for the last week of the season plus playoffs and nobody gives him a shot. That about right?” “Yes, that’s all correct.” Schneider lets the paper fall back to his desk. He doesn’t approve. “Sir, you know I’m not trying to collect a bunch of reclamation projects in the desperate hope that they pan out. When you interviewed me, you said a good GM shouldn’t be an optimist. I’m not; I’m a realist. Wilkes is undoubtedly a wild card, but he’s very passionate about the game. And more importantly, he has elite potential as a receiver. He can bring the element to our offense we’re missing.” “I thought you said we’re probably going receiver with our first pick?” “No guarantee we’ll land one of our guys.” Schneider thinks. “Feel out Rosenhaus if you want, and send me any dollar figures that come up.” “Thank you, sir.” “And Chance, one more thing. A good GM is neither an optimist nor a realist. A good GM is an opportunist.” Practice drags on for the Knights, and for Wilkes. He’s been given the playbook for the Houston game this weekend, and there’s not much designed for him, meaning there’s not much to like. Nothing he tells the coaches does any good. For whatever reason, they’ve forgotten the receiver he is. When he signed a one year, $6 million contract, everyone called it a “prove-it” deal.” How can he prove himself without a chance? Still, life is good in Los Angeles. Even though he grew up in Georgia and Uncle Lincoln is in South Carolina, L.A. feels like home. The University of Southern California isn’t far away, and the nostalgia of his two years there still comforts him. Towards the end of Thursday’s practice, Wilkes isn’t even trying. He knows they’re throwing everything at Miller and Johnson, so he just jogs along his routes. Apparently, the coaches haven’t noticed. Shocking. There’s a commotion on the other side of the field. What happened? “Get the trainers!” someone yells. On the ground, Alex Johnson writes in pain. He ran an out route, jumped to catch the overthrown pass, and landed awkwardly on his ankles. Those damn ankles of his. They’ve been getting hurt since middle school. Never any ligament damage, but a sprain here, a fracture there. Several analysts called them the reason Johnson dropped from the first round a few months ago. The trainers soon gather and players form a huddle around their injured teammate. “It’s not bad,” Johnson insists. “Just landed funny.” An hour later, practice has concluded, and players slowly file out of the locker room. Johnson is given the news of mild ankle sprain, and the team lists him as questionable for Sunday’s game. He will probably play, but he won’t be 100%. Before he leaves the locker room, Da’Jamiroquai sees his head coach walk up to his locker. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed your lack of effort this week,” Daniel says. “Why should I try if you won’t give me a shot?” “You’ll get your shot. Johnson’s hurt. May not go for Sunday. We’re gonna give you some looks, but I need to know you’ll give me everything you’ve got tomorrow.” Finally, a break! Did it really take an injury for somebody to give him some reps? “You got it, coach.” The next day, Wilkes dominates the practice field. Nobody can cover him, not even Malik Rose. In addition to running around him, he eggs him on with some trash talk, just for fun. He’s ready for Sunday. After practice, the offensive coordinator suggests Maverick and Wilkes spend some extra time together to prepare for the game, but they decline. Both have better things to do. Before long, the team arrives in Houston. Fresh off a victory against the Steelers, the 3-1 Texans seem to have finally taken the step into legitimacy, the same step the Knights are supposed to take sometime soon. Due to impending rain, the Reliant Stadium roof is closed for the game. The Texans get the ball first, and Wilkes mopes around on the sideline as Houston’s offensive line dominates and takes a 7-0 lead. A few minutes later, Wilkes lines up for the first time, covered by Jonathan Joseph, Houston’s best corner. At last, some respect. Wilkes runs a simple post route and Maverick finds him for ten yards. Wilkes jumps up and spikes the ball. “Get used to it, bitch,” he says to Joseph. The offense tries a few more plays to Wilkes, but Maverick can’t find him amidst poor pass blocking. The Knights get to midfield before punting. This trend continues throughout the game. Wilkes piles up six receptions totaling seventy yards, but there’s not much offense otherwise. Their only points come on a fifty-nine-yard run by Darren McFadden and a forty-nine-yard field goal by Janikowski. Meanwhile, the Texans go the entire first half without punting. They lead at halftime, 24-10. The Knights get the ball to start the second half. Wilkes gets ready to beat Joseph again, this time for a deep ball. He runs an out route to the sideline, Joseph breaks with him, then he plants his foot in the turf and cuts upfield, beating his man. He looks up and sees the free safety shading towards him. He turns back, but the ball has already gone elsewhere. So they’re double covering him now. Good. It’ll look even better when he finds the end zone. He receives the same treatment on second down as McFadden runs for two yards. They call a crossing pattern on third down. Wilkes breaks and Joseph rides him every step of the way, making significant contact. Maverick fires the ball, but Wilkes feels his jersey tugged and can’t make the catch. Joseph starts saying something, and Wilkes, still in stride, grabs his jersey and wrangles him down. Players swarm them instantly. The first Knight in the action is Alex Johnson. “Let it go! Let it go!” he screams. Others scream more colorful language, but the refs succeed in breaking up the fracas without punches thrown. Once peace is restored, Johnson says to a ref, “Missed a call on that one. He had his jersey. Easy DPI.” The ref does nothing. There’s no flag on the play. Wilkes and Johnson retreat to the bench. The Texans go three and out and the Knights retake the field. Wilkes continues battling the double team, breaking free occasionally, but Maverick doesn’t see him. Eventually, Wilkes runs a pointless curl route on third and long and watches Maverick throw a perfect pass to Johnson, who beat his man. He streaks down the sideline for a touchdown. Wilkes doesn’t celebrate. The offense sees the field a lot in the second half. Whatever Coach Harden is doing to Houston’s offense, it’s working. The Knights add a field goal in the third quarter, only trailing 24-20. Early in the fourth quarter, a string of McFadden screens, Miller catches, and Johnson catches puts the Knights on the eight-yard line. Wilkes is still without a second half reception. On third and goal, he fakes an out route and cuts back to the middle. The safety gets turned around, and he’s open. He looks and sees the pass heading right for him. He jumps, catches it, and lands in the end zone, silencing the crowd. Heading for the goal posts, he jumps, does a 360-degree spin in midair, and dunks the ball on the cross bar. As his teammates celebrate with him, he hears the crowd start to cheer. “Holding,” the head referee says, “number sixty-six, offense. Ten yard penalty, replay third down.” Unbelievable. Wilkes says nothing, maintains a straight face, and walks to the sideline. As his teammates huddle, the sideline screams at him to get in it. He doesn’t even look at the coaches as he walks past them and finds a spot on the bench. Coach Daniel, red in the face, sends in a replacement, but the play clock ticks down and he’s forced to burn a timeout. A few coordinators try to talk to Wilkes, but he wants none of it. He doesn’t move from his seat as the rest of the game transpires. The Knights settle for a field goal. The Texans milk the clock with Arian Foster, finally finding holes in Harden’s defense. They add a field goal with three minutes left. Maverick runs the no huddle, but the offense stalls near midfield. One final Hail Mary finds a crowd but comes down in the hands of a defender. Texans win, 27-23. In the locker room, Wilkes changes fast. He can’t get back to Los Angeles soon enough. Johnson finds the largest bags of ice he can and puts them on his ankles, a welcome relief. Wilkes is ready to escape when Coach Daniel finds him. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Daniel asks. “Nope. Got nothin’ to say.” “You ever pull a stunt like that again on the field, and you’re suspended. For now, you owe me extra suicides on Tuesday. So enjoy your day off tomorrow.” Wilkes wonders if he can skip it. “Johnson,” Daniel says. “Great effort out there today. I know you were hurting. Rest up this week.” In more pain than he cares to admit, Johnson just nods in agreement.

Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter Eight – Depth Chart Even optimistic fans have lost hope for the Knights. They occupy the AFC West’s cellar at 2-8, while the Broncos lead the division at 6-4, the Chargers trail at 5-5, and the Chiefs are 4-6. Four games back with six games to play, a playoff berth is still mathematically possible, but it’s a distant scenario fans no longer consider. Not this year. Not this football team. Los Angeles fans anticipated the return of an NFL franchise with great hope. An aggressive owner and a promising set of decision makers seemed destined to turn the once dormant Raiders into a contending Knights franchise. It hasn’t happened. Still, many Knights fans are realistic. They didn’t expect the Knights to reach the playoffs immediately (though many cited the Dolphins’ 2008 turnaround from 1-15 to 11-1 as precedent), but they did expect a steady progression. This season appears to be the opposite. The Knights are young, yes, but the coaching staff should have prevented the heartbreaking losses fans have endured. Perhaps a change needs to be made. The one advantage the franchise has against fan pressure is the recent past of the Oakland Raiders. All NFL fans witnessed the turmoil of the Raiders (and other teams) brought on by new head coach after new head coach. Owner Wayne Schneider pledged not to let that happen with the Knights. He pledged patience. Several reporters ambush Schneider as he leaves team headquarters Monday, the day after the 20-17 loss to San Diego. “Obviously we’re disappointed with the results so far,” he says in what sounds like a pre-rehearsed statement. “We all feel the team should be playing better. The coaches, the players, everybody. And while we’re frustrated with our record, we are absolutely not planning any changes. As far as I’m concerned, there’s still six games to go.” Meanwhile, from inside Knights headquarters, management finally looks at the remaining season from a different perspective. GM Chance Phillips studies his team’s depth chart and identifies younger players he would like to see get extra playing time as the season continues. “Absolutely not,” head coach Caden Daniel insists. “I will not make such decisions until we are mathematically eliminated from the playoffs.” Though he doesn’t say it, Phillips admires Daniel’s persistence. The playoffs are still possible, after all, thanks to the overall ineptitude of the AFC West. The Knights arrive in Minnesota for a seemingly fruitless battle with the 2-8 Vikings. With four wins between both teams and no immediate playoff implications, the game can only be marketed as two angry teams fighting for respect—or a higher draft pick. For the Knights, there have been no significant changes in practice routines or general approach to the game; it’s too late for that. L.A. has simply prepared for the Minnesota Vikings, a team they feel they should beat, though their confidence is at an all-time low. The Vikings get the ball first and, shockingly, hand off to Adrian Peterson. He churns through several would-be tacklers for a six-yard gain. Coach Harden has keyed in on Peterson, unafraid of Christian Ponder, but because he’s such a freakish athlete, Harden needs his guys to tackle. The drive continues without a passing game. The Vikings face multiple third downs but convert every one with their star running back. The Knights can’t get enough push in the trenches. In the red zone, the Vikings try to open up with Ponder, but L.A.’s secondary has everybody covered. Minnesota settles for a field goal. The next time the defense takes the field, they hone in even further on Peterson. It finally works; he’s stopped at the line of scrimmage. But play halts for a Knight defender on the ground; it’s outside linebacker Kamerion Wimbley. During the ensuring commercial break, Wimbley reaches his feet but favors his right leg. As the trainers escort him off the field, Harden turns to #51, his rotational pass rusher, on the bench. “Looks like you’re in full-time until Kamerion comes back. Go.” The player with “Brock” on the back of his jersey jogs to the defensive huddle. Harden calls an outside blitz, suspecting the Vikings will pass on 2nd and 10. Off the snap, Brock surges past left tackle Charlie Johnson. Ponder fakes a handoff and barely turns around before Brock slams him to the turf. He gets up and performs an elaborate impromptu dance to celebrate the first sack of his career. The seventh and final round of the 2010 NFL Draft begins. For Wayne Schneider, it has been a boring and slightly antagonizing event. Without a general manager to speak of, the Raiders never actually assembled a big board of prospects; they only ranked them by position. From round to round, each pick has been a majority agreement, with Schneider only chiming in for suggestions. It has worked, Schneider feels, but he wonders if he should have hired a general manager, or at least some sort of consultant to handle to the draft. Perhaps this is his first mistake as the Raiders owner. “Since this is our final pick coming up,” one head scout says, “I think we should consider the possibility of taking a flier on a guy.” “Well, hold on,” another says. “That depends on the prospect. We shouldn’t shun a guy we like just because we feel like being risky. Who do you have in mind?” “Sean Brock, defensive end from Temple.” Nobody responds at first. Schneider recognizes the name from news but doesn’t know the full story. With business moving fast behind the scenes, he has only had time to do comprehensive research on a few high profile prospects, and they’re all long gone by now. “Give me the quick scouting report,” Schneider says. The head scout responsible for pass rushers sits up and reads from a piece of paper. “As a football player, there’s a lot to like. There were times when he dominated at Temple, though it’s a small school, so take that for what it’s worth. Great pass rush skills, competent run stopper, dreadful in coverage. In terms of pure football, third round prospect.” “But he’s on the board in the seventh because…” “Dealt with some strong rumors of marijuana use at Temple. Tested positive at the combine and interviewed terribly. Very cocky, got a me-first attitude. So basically, he failed the combine with flying colors.” “How were his measurables, though?” “Fine.” Schneider and the scouts consider this as the Raiders’ pick nears. As the first half goes on, the Knights defense plays well. Wimbley is still in the locker room with an apparent ankle injury, and trainers declare him questionable to return. Coach Harden doesn’t mind that; Sean Brock’s addition to the lineup seems to have actually improved his run defense. The Vikings have 13 points on the board, but seven of them are from a Percy Harvin kickoff return; Harden’s defense has only allowed six. The Vikings continue pounding away with Peterson. He’s averaging about four yards per carry, but the Knights get third down stops often enough to keep the offense out of field goal range. Ponder gets rid of the ball quickly when he passes the ball, masking a productive pass rush by Brock and Zack Grantzinger. In Harden’s mind, this confirms his belief when he was hired that the switch a 3-4 defense would benefit Brock, a 4-3 defensive end until last year. After a mostly boring first and second quarter, halftime arrives and the Knights go into the locker room down 13-10. The players feel relaxed, confident they can reel in a victory with a strong second half. Coach Daniel and his offensive coaches search for adjustments to boost the offense. Minnesota’s defensive line is wreaking havoc. Double-teaming Jared Allen has opened things up for Kevin Williams and Brian Robison, but Daniel refuses to yield that particular strategy. Left tackle Jared Veldheer handling Allen by himself is essentially inviting injury to Jonathan Maverick. The Knights’ offense opens the second half with play-action. Maverick looks deep: D-Jam is covered, and he can’t see Johnson because of pass rush to his right. He moves left and sees the only receiver consistently open today, Zach Miller. Miller hauls in the pass for five yards, but a holding penalty brings the offense back. McFadden gets two yards on 1st and 20. Maverick tries to dump off to McFadden for a screen on 2nd and 18, but Jared Allen is somehow covering him. He rolls right and again finds Miller, who gets his hand on the ball, then drops it after a hard hit to the chest. He gets up slowly. Coach Daniel sees this from the sideline. Miller signals he needs a replacement. Daniel turns around, and the backup tight end, #81, is already sprinting to the huddle. Facing 3rd and 18, Maverick takes a snap from shotgun. The Vikings secondary backs off. With a clean pocket, Maverick scans both sides of the field, but the only open target is #81. He fires a bullet, Bishop catches it, and Benny Sapp hits him five yards short of a first down. Still standing, Bishop lowers his shoulders and plows forward. He gains momentum and carries Sapp with him. Other defenders arrive as the two fall forward, the ball reaching sufficient distance for a first down. The Knights sideline celebrates the big conversion while the Metrodome crowd goes silent in shock. Bishop gets up and quietly gets set for the next play as his teammates mob him in congratulations. Free agency has been open for weeks now, and Chance Phillips is satisfied with the results. Despite losing Nnamdi Asomugha, he was able to sign a quality veteran on both sides of the ball (Brian Penner and Chet Ripka). Now, with more financial flexibility than last year, he can look for some depth, try to find some diamonds in the rough. The 2011 season looms, and Phillips knows not to count on a good starting lineup alone to create wins. Despite the passage of time since the market opening, there are some free agents Phillips covets. He has, so far, restrained from any sort of negotiation based on one of the many tricks he learned in Pittsburgh: never overpay depth players, and hurrying to sign free agents for depth is a great way to overpay them. After lunch, he finds himself in a meeting with Wayne Schneider and his offensive coaching staff. His goal is to sell them on one of the names he covets. “Logan Bishop,” Phillips says, “tight end. Fourth round pick by New England in ‘07, played his first four years there, contract was up.” “Hang on a second,” Schneider says. “What does it say about Bishop if a franchise like New England doesn’t want him back?” “He’s a third-string tight end, Wayne, I wouldn’t read too far into it. And if you want details, New England is stacked at tight end. Bishop barely had a chance to see the field, and when he did, it was as a blocker.” “How was he?” Coach Daniel asks. “Our metrics indicate very good. And he was a competent receiver at FSU.” An awkward silence falls over the room. Nobody wants to commit to a decision. “Look, gentlemen, we’ve discussed the tight end position and we all like Zach Miller. We’re fortunate he re-signed with us. And we like Brandon Myers as a backup. But Bishop is our number three. I just need to make sure no one’s against it.” Phillips studies his head coach, who looks slightly uncomfortable with the assertion of Phillips’ statement, but Phillips doesn’t care. There are certain areas where he has total authority, and Daniel needs to know that. None of the coaches offer objection, and a few days later, the Knights sign Logan Bishop to a cheap, two-year deal. Zach Miller is out with a rib injury, so Bishop becomes the starting tight end. Slot corner Benny Sapp covers him most plays, and Bishop creates just enough separation with his routes to get open. Maverick wants to get his other receivers involved, but if they can’t get open, screw them. The Knights offense rides Bishop’s seven receptions en route to a 14-point third quarter, including Bishop’s first career touchdown catch. Now tasked with holding a 24-13 lead, the Knights defense licks their chops, ready to attack Christian Ponder. From the edge, Sean Brock gears up to blow past Charlie Johnson again. He’s had his number all day, and Brock feels he’s played well against the run as well, even if Adrian Peterson is a motherfucker to bring down. Brock hears an audible from behind him: flip coverage. Brock now has to cover the flat instead of rush the passer. Bummer. Ponder takes the snap from shotgun and Brock slides to his right. Kyle Rudolph heads his way, and Brock covers him, his eyes trained on Ponder. Rudolph suddenly cuts upfield, and Brock gets turned around. He staggers, and Rudolph runs open, no defenders in front of him. Ponder hits him with a slightly underthrown pass. Brock dives for his feet but misses. The Metrodome comes back to life as Rudolph runs for the pylon, in a race with Chet Ripka. They both dive, and Rudolph gets the ball over the end zone. Harden sulks as the Vikings narrow the deficit to 24-20. He knows Brock is a liability in coverage, a big reason he has been stuck as a situational player. However, Harden prides himself on teaching coverage abilities to linebackers. He’s got work to do. The ensuing Knights possession, Coach Daniel wants to run the clock a little bit. He realizes Logan Bishop is actually a better run blocker than Miller, so he’s comfortable running McFadden in his direction. This, mixed with some screens and quick passes, gets a few first downs as the game clock ticks under six minutes. Maverick prepares for a handoff, but the Vikings secondary looks confused. He calls a quick audible and drops back to pass. Bishop comes across the middle, but the Vikings have him doubled. Maverick looks right, and Benny Sapp is covering Alex Johnson, except he’s four strides behind. Maverick steps up, bombs it, and gets hit by Jared Allen. From the turf, he sees Johnson catch the perfect pass and run in for the touchdown. The Metrodome slowly empties. Players arrive for practice Tuesday morning with plenty to think about. Sunday’s 31-20 victory eliminated the Vikings from playoff contention, and it’s probably not long before the Knights receive the same verdict. But with five games to go, there’s plenty of room for the team to make progress. Logan Bishop dresses at his locker while talking to Alex Johnson. The presence of Zach Miller, however, distracts him. “I don’t know,” Johnson says, “I like Daniel. I know I’m a rookie and don’t have much perspective, but he seems like a good coach.” “A lot better than my old head coach,” Bishop says. “A lot—what? You came from New England, right? That’s Belichick you’re talking about.” “He’s too much of a hard ass for me. Daniel’s much more my style. I like him a lot.” Johnson incredulously tries to argue his point. Meanwhile, Sean Brock strolls into the locker room. “Oh,” Coach Harden says, “there’s LT. I didn’t realize two sacks meant you could be two minutes late.” “Yup,” Brock says, removing his street clothes, “one minute for each sack.” “Hey that’s clever, Brock,” Malik Rose says, “you being all smart and shit.” “Must be nice to be up against a scrub tackle like Johnson,” Zack Grantzinger says. “Why don’t we switch? I’ll take the scrub next week and get five sacks.” “Knock it off, gentlemen,” Harden says. “Listen, Sean, Kamerion’s ankle is fine. He’s 100% for next Sunday. That means he’s the starter.” Brock feels deflated. Suddenly he wonders why he needs to bother dressing for practice. Maybe he should have seen this coming, but still. “However,” Harden continues, “given your performance on Sunday, you’ll be seeing more snaps than usual.” “Sweet.” “And more immediately, since you were two minutes late, you owe me two laps. See you on the field.” Harden walks away, not wanting a response. He walks past Coach Daniel, who is delivering similar news to Bishop, though without the more-snaps caveat. “We’re proud of your effort on Sunday, Logan,” Daniel says, “but Zach is a big part of our offense. Since he’s healthy, we can’t hold him back. I hope you understand that.” “I do, sir.” Daniel nods and walks away. Disappointed, Bishop walks to Miller’s locker to congratulate him on the good news about his ribs.

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.

Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter Seven – Control Head coach Caden Daniel watches practice from the sidelines. After a bye week of lighter practice and heavier focus on rest, the Knights prepare for Sunday’s divisional matchup with Denver. The Los Angeles media had a field day with the concept of light rest for a 2-6 football team, but Daniel—who has come to miss the media of Storrs, Connecticut—knows how to shrug it off by now. That 2-6 record has stuck in Daniel’s head for over a week. At UConn, he never had a record worse than 3-2. He knew turning the Knights into a winning team would be a multi-year project, and deep down, he knows management has dealt him a crappy hand, losing the team’s best players to free agency. Despite this, Daniel still feels dismayed to see his team making mistakes they shouldn’t make, losing games they shouldn’t lose. He naturally wants to blame himself, but reflecting on his own shortcomings has made him wonder: should he have stayed in college? Though he is still very much optimistic about his NFL career, he can’t deny he was a better college coach. Part of him still misses the days when he could read the emotions of his team just by studying their faces. Now, in the pros, there’s a lot more uncertainty. Everything is decided on Sunday. Daniel believes his decision to lighten practice during the bye week was a good one, but he won’t know until the Knights play Denver on Sunday. But things shouldn’t be this way. He played in the NFL for 12 years. It’s a different game now, of course, but this is far from uncharted territory for him. He sees Jonathan Maverick make a lazy mistake and moves in to correct him. “Jonathan. Always keep your eyes downfield. How many more times are we going to go over this?” “Sorry, coach.” “Apologizing is not going to make up for it. These are fundamentals, you understand? We both know you like to move around in the pocket, and that’s an asset. You buy time, you make plays that way. But once your eyes leave your receivers, it’s game over. Understand?” “Yeah, I got it.” “Okay. Let’s run it again.” It’s the third year in a row Caden Daniel has received interest from NFL teams seeking a head coach, but this is the first time he’s taken an interview. And just a few short hours ago, his agent relayed to him the official offer from Oakland: five years, thirty million. Until he heard that dollar figure, Daniel had only thought of his success at the University of Connecticut: the team’s multiple Big East titles in his five seasons, the NFL players he had groomed, the young kids he had molded into men, and most importantly, the bright future of the football program. But now, everything seems different. Daniel knows it’s not the money calling him. His recently signed contract with UConn is more than enough to take care of him and his family for life. It’s the allure of going back to the NFL, where he has two Super Bowl rings as a backup journeyman QB, and winning more as a head coach. Daniel always suspected his coaching career would ultimately take him back to the NFL, but the surprising success he enjoyed at UConn has put that notion aside—until now. For the moment, Daniel enjoys a quiet Sunday at home, playoff football on his television. (Regrettably, the Huskies season is already over, no BCS bowl game this year.) He has already talked this over with his family, and he suspects his wife thinks his made is already made up. Maybe it is. The hardest part won’t be moving from coast to coast; the hardest part will be leaving so many great people behind at UConn, and wondering what could have been had he stayed. But he can no longer ignore the itch, the opportunity… A few hours later, Daniel picks up the telephone and dials a number with a California area code. “Good afternoon, Coach Daniel,” says Chance Phillips, the newly hired general manager of the Oakland Raiders. “Good afternoon, Mr. Phillips. Thank you for taking my call.” “No trouble at all. Is this about the head coaching job?” “Indeed it is. Chance, firstly, I would like to thank you for the great opportunity. The challenges ahead may be great, but they aren’t insurmountable. You’ve convinced me. I accept the vacant head coaching position.” The fourth quarter ticks away. The Farmers Field crowd cherishes their team’s 24-14 lead, feeling a big win against the 3-4 Broncos pulling within reach. Two weeks ago should have been the start of a winning streak, but it wasn’t meant to be. Today is the day instead. Coach Daniel calls another sweep for McFadden. They’ve been working all day, as has everything else in the playbook. Daniel has been calling a good game, he knows, but his players have also been executing. McFadden takes the sweep and finds a hole. Denver closes it quickly, but McFadden still gets four yards. Third and two. The Knights are on Denver’s twenty-nine (a 46-yard kick from here), and as much as Daniel would like to keep the drive going, he wants to milk the clock more. As it ticks down under four minutes, he calls a McFadden run up the gut. Maverick lets the play clock wind all the way down, does nothing to quell to crowd noise, and hands off to McFadden. He’s hit at the line of scrimmage by Von Miller. Maybe a yard, but not two. Fourth down. Disappointed by the run blocking, Daniel shrugs it off and watches the clock tick down as the field goal unit takes the field. Fans boo, wanting the Knights to go for it. Sebastian Janikowski nails the kick and the clock holds at 3:15. 27-14, Knights. The Broncos set up shop with the ball. Defensive coordinator Merle Harden calls the play and Tim Tebow takes the snap from shotgun. Tebow sees nobody open, rolls left, and finds room. He scrambles for eleven yards. No more of that. Harden is tired of this kid’s scrambling, so he makes the linebackers shadow him. Running the hurry up, Tebow takes another snap quickly and looks deep. His eyes widen, he heaves a pass in the air, and it falls into the hands of Demaryius Thomas, streaking downfield with no one around him. The crowd groans before Thomas reaches the goal line, and the extra point makes it 27-21 with 2:56 to play. That was fast. Harden debriefs with his troops and determines the cause: a miscommunication. Michael Huff and Stanford Routt both covered the same man and left Thomas open. Knowing it’s too late in the year for such stupid errors, Harden instructs his men to call timeout again if they’re confused about a play call. Coach Daniel supports this decision. Before long it’s Daniel calling the plays, and his strategy remains unchanged: run the ball, milk the clock. Denver has all three timeouts left. He calls a handoff to McFadden in first down; he runs into a crowd for two yards. Timeout, Denver, 2:45 to play. They’re banking on a three-and-out. Daniel calls a sweep on second down; McFadden breaks a tackle, but a safety runs in for a big tackle and it’s only a three-yard gain. Timeout, Denver, 2:38 to play. Daniel wants a first down here to get the clock down to two minutes, but he sees the clock as more valuable. He calls a shotgun draw to McFadden; he sidesteps a few linemen but a linebacker drills him at the line of scrimmage. No gain. Denver lets the clock run and the Los Angeles crowd boos. Out comes the punt team. The Broncos take possession after the two-minute warning. Despite the pressure, Harden doesn’t back down from his strategy: linebackers shade Tebow, one-on-one coverage. The Christian wonder drops back and scans. Zack Grantzinger brings pressure from outside and Tebow steps up. He hits Johnson over the middle, and he’s tackled. 1:50, 1:49… Tebow sets the formation and shouts the call. Farmers Field gets loud. Tebow takes the snap. Briggs Randall comes unblocked and Tebow rolls left. Kirk Morrison moves in for the sack but Tebow lofts it downfield. Eric Decker runs for the ball, Stanford Routt five yards behind, and Decker catches it in stride. He bolts for the end zone, and the game is tied. The extra point gives Denver the lead, and whatever air was left inside the stadium gets sucked out. Coach Harden has nothing to say, and the sideline remains quiet as Maverick takes the ball with 1:36 to go. Still lots of time with two timeouts, the sudden change from run-first to no-huddle apparently doesn’t sit well. Maverick throws one incompletion after another, and before long, Tim Tebow is taking a knee to end the game. Broncos win, 28-27. The Knights march off the field, sadly familiar with this style of defeat. Their fans don’t boo this time; they’re too shocked to boo, and Coach Daniel shares their feelings. They finally played turnover-free football. The offensive line finally got some blocking (for the most part). And somehow it doesn’t add up to a win, all because of two defensive breakdowns when it mattered. Chalk up another should-have-been. Super Bowl XLIV is set; it’ll be the New Orleans Saints against the Indianapolis Colts. But Chance Phillips, newly hired general manager of the Oakland Raiders, pays no attention. He and his new head coach, Caden Daniel, are more concerned with finding a defensive coordinator. Their offensive staff is mostly in place, but all defensive positions are vacant. So far, they’ve vetted every possibility in the NFL and in college. Daniel wanted his defensive coordinator from Connecticut, but he fled to Division II for a head-coaching gig. They interviewed two whole rounds of candidates, eleven interviews altogether. Phillips has a few names he would be happy with, but Daniel insists they’ve yet to find their man. During his own interview and in the days since his hiring, Daniel has stressed the importance of quality assistant coaches. Phillips liked that opinion initially, but now it’s causing some trouble. He doesn’t want to create another round of candidates, so he’s found one they already interviewed: Merle Harden. Despite his underwhelming interview, Harden’s experience is extensive: sixteen years as a high school head coach, three years in Division I-AA, five years in Division I, then seven years as the Carolina Panthers’ defensive coordinator. At age fifty-nine, he’s not the young, fresh face a franchise like Oakland could use, but his defensive credentials speak for themselves. Harden arrives in Oakland for a second interview, which proceeds much more casually this time. Phillips, Daniel, and owner Wayne Schneider are already familiar with Harden’s football mind, though they still ask questions. Phillips likes that he is capable of coaching outside linebackers in coverage. Schneider likes the possibility of a 3-4 defense, though Phillips is on the fence. And Daniel likes his philosophy of trusting his secondary players with coverage. Phillips is lukewarm about this; putting corners and safeties on an island only increases the risk of them getting burned. But if he can build Harden a competent secondary, then Harden’s unpredictability with the front seven could create a formidable defense. After the interview concludes, the Raiders’ brain trust contemplates Harden as a defensive coordinator. Coach Daniel is still not sure he’s their man, but admits he’s warming up to the idea. Schneider and Phillips are also on the fence, but everyone in the room admits the defensive coordinator search has lasted too long. They need to hire someone. A few minutes into the meeting, Phillips knows Harden will be hired. He detests making a decision he’s not 100% about, but he suspects this will be a recurring theme in the NFL. As he saw in Pittsburgh, decision makers never get to carry out their dream plan. They have to compromise. This is Phillips’ first compromise. On the bright side, Phillips leverages Harden’s agent into a three-year contract. So if he doesn’t work out, there won’t be much in the way of jettisoning him and trying again with (hopefully) a better market. Knights fans respond positively to the hire when it goes viral. Many Panthers fans are angry Harden was not retained in Carolina. At Harden’s introductory press conference, Schneider is the first to speak. “We’re immensely excited about Merle Harden coordinating our defense. When it’s time to find coaches in the NFL, you have to pray there are guys out there not only capable, but who fit the kind of football you want to play. We feel like we got a real steal in Coach Harden.” Harden staggers through the parking lot and into the Knights’ facility. He’s predictably hungover, with a worse headache than usual. Yesterday’s loss is still difficult to stomach, as any one-point loss would be, but especially so when the loss falls squarely on Harden and his secondary, whose two blown coverages took away a win. He makes his way through the facility, iced coffee in hand. Due to the masculinity surrounding football, Harden has made himself the frequent target of ball busting by always walking around with an iced coffee. But shortly after he made the jump to college, he discovered it to be the best hangover cure he’d ever taken. And it could always be spiced, if the occasion called for it. Between sips of iced coffee Harden realizes something’s not quite right. There are no players today (Monday), but the coaches are not scattered throughout the building, which instead contains an eerie silence. Harden’s six minutes late and the parking lot is full; he’s not the first one here. He finally hears murmurs and follows them to the conference room. He walks in to see the entire coaching staff assembled, including the GM and owner. “Good, he’s here,” one of the assistant coaches says. Harden feels a drip of condensation trickle down his cup. “Take a seat, coach,” Coach Daniel says. “We’ve had an incident with one of our players. One of yours, specifically.” Harden falls into a nearby car and says, “Which one?” “Rose.” Harden isn’t surprised, but he waits for details. “He was at a nightclub last night, along with a few teammates—” “No crime in that,” Harden says, defending his cornerback. “Please, let me finish. Rose ended up in a shouting match with another patron of the club, and the two allegedly exchanged shoves before people got between them.” “Allegedly.” “Police were not called, but this patron, a Knights fan as it turns out, published the events on Twitter, and the media’s taking off with it.” “For the record,” Wayne Schneider interjects, “the other teammates present were Jefferspin-Wilkes, Jerome Jaxson, and Sean Brock.” “Obviously,” Daniel says, “we’re going to collect all the facts first. But if Rose initiated some sort of confrontation with a fan, we have to assign consequences. You all know how I feel about this off-the-field nonsense, and you are on my staff because you share this point-of-view.” Harden’s not sure he does, but he listens as Daniel rambles, gulping his iced coffee to pass the time. Eventually, the coaches get around to scheming for next Sunday’s game against San Diego. The next morning, Malik Rose joins his teammates for practice, but his coaches pull him aside before he can start. None of the three players with him at the nightclub implicates him as the aggressor, so Coach Daniel dismisses any fine/suspension, though he assigns extra work during the week for Rose. He also pens a letter to Commissioner Goodell, saying the Knights will deal with Rose internally for his compromise of integrity, and that the league should refrain from any punitive action. When he gets chances, Coach Harden insists there was nothing wrong with what Rose did and tells him to focus on practice. Harden’s own focus is on the secondary; he runs them through one-on-one drills until they’re physically drained, then runs them through some more. The breakdowns of the Denver game are unacceptable and cannot happen again. Moreover, Harden will not abandon his man coverage defense. If there’s one thing about the game of football he hates, it’s zone coverage. Meanwhile, Wayne Schneider calls Chance Phillips into his office with a sense of what Phillips translates as part urgency, part panic. Phillips takes half a step through the doorway and Schneider starts speaking. “Da’Jamiroquai Jeffer-whatever—I don’t want to mispronounce his name—hasn’t shown for practice yet, has he?” “Not sure, Wayne, I haven’t talked to Daniel yet.” “Well, he won’t. I just got off the phone with an LAPD officer, one of my more useful connections. D-Jam’s been arrested for DUI, six this morning. Somehow it hasn’t hit the news yet.” “Shit.” Phillips takes a seat on the opposite side of Schneider’s desk. “Two player incidents in two days, great. Though Rose hasn’t been proven of anything.” “Indeed. This is worse. Correct me if I’m wrong, Chance, but didn’t we hire Caden partly due to his zero-tolerance policy on this sort of off-the-field bullshit?” “We did, sir.” “Then what the fuck is going on?” “With all due respect, this team has some colorful characters. We can’t reasonably expect Daniel to keep them all in line right away, but we can expect him to assign proper consequences to ensure they don’t happen again.” Schneider presses his hands together. “I’m counting on it.” Five days later, the Knights find themselves in San Diego, not far from home, nursing a 17-12 lead against the AFC West leaders with two minutes to play. The week’s events have made time fly by, including the game itself. Coach Harden’s secondary has suffocated the Chargers’ passing game. Phillip Rivers has taken five sacks, most of them coverage sacks, and while the Knights’ run defense has left plenty to be desired, the Chargers, devoid of big passing plays, have been forced to settle for a handful of Nick Novak field goals. The Chargers face 3rd and 10 from their own forty. Harden calls an inside blitz. Rivers takes the snap from shotgun, and Briggs Randall surges through the offensive line. Rivers assumes the fetal position and falls for a sack. The Qualcomm Stadium crowd whimpers as the Chargers, facing 4th and 16, decide to call timeout and punt, relying on a three-and-out from Los Angeles. A coffin-corner punt places the Knights at their own five, 1:50 to go; San Diego has two timeouts. Coach Daniel makes the easy decision of calling a run play. With Da’Jamiroquai Jefferspin-Wilkes on a one-game suspension, the offense has been relegated to a conservative, run-first style. It hasn’t been incredibly efficient, but they have avoided turnovers and put up enough points here and there to keep the lead. Darren McFadden takes it off-tackle left and gets stuffed at the line of scrimmage. Timeout, San Diego, 1:45 to play. McFadden takes another handoff, gets no blocking, attempts to sweep left, and gets brought down. Timeout, San Diego, 1:39 to play. Daniel contemplates the 3rd and 11 play call. The priority is to wind the clock, and assuming they don’t convert, the Chargers will get the ball back with about 50 seconds left from midfield. Instead of a simple run play, Daniel calls a play they’ve rehearsed in practice over and over, one he feels Jonathan Maverick finally has mastered: play-action rollout. The passing call should catch San Diego off guard, opening up Maverick for a game-clinching pass. The risk, of course, is stopping the clock on an incompletion, but Maverick knows to slide down to run the clock if no one’s open. It requires veteran poise, but Daniel decides it’s time to trust his franchise quarterback with such plays. Maverick takes the snap, fakes the handoff, and rolls right. The Chargers defense bites completely, and Maverick has plenty of grass around him. He spots Zach Miller crossing the field, open, deep enough for a first down. Maverick lofts it to him, but the pass is underthrown and ends up in Shaun Phillips’ hands. The crowd jumps to its feet as Phillips sidesteps one man, jukes Maverick with ease, and runs into the end zone. The Knights sideline is still and silent. The next few minutes go by like the entire week: the Chargers convert the two-point try to take a 20-17 lead, and Maverick has the ball again. Daniel knows he’s rattled, but there’s no alternative. They still have two timeouts and 1:24 to work with needing only a field goal. Maverick takes the snap from shotgun, drops back, and heaves the ball downfield with as much velocity as he can. Alex Johnson tries to track it, but the ball is five strides ahead of him. Eric Weddle catches it at midfield and goes down. As the Chargers end the game from the victory formation, Daniel contemplates the state of his football team. There can be no illusions about a 2-8 record. The playoffs are long gone and no longer the point of concern. He’s comfortable with having another six games to improve the team—and he knows improvements can be made—but he wonders if there will be consequences. The NFL is a tough business that demands one of two things: winning or accountability. The remaining six games are no longer an opportunity to climb back into the playoff race, but a trial to see who gets blamed for this season’s debacle.

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.

Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter Five – Roses Are Red Victory is within reach. It’s been a sloppy, back-and-forth game against the Cleveland Browns, but Farmers Field screams for a potential win, one they feel they should get. The Browns are 2-2, a decent record by their standards, but they’re still the Browns. Colt McCoy gets ready for fourth and five from the forty-two, just outside field goal range. The Knights, clinging to a 13-12 lead with under a minute to play, need one more stop, and they feel confident. The only talent on Cleveland’s offense is in the trenches. Most confident of all is Malik Rose, who has enjoyed the effortless task of covering Greg Little, a laughably designated number one receiver. Poor Little has been targeted eleven times today, resulting in no catches and two interceptions, one for Rose and one for safety Chet Ripka. Lately, Little has voiced his frustration by trash talking, an amusing development to Rose. McCoy takes the snap from shotgun and stares down Little, who runs a go route. Rose doesn’t have help over the top, and he doesn’t need it. He runs stride for stride and sees McCoy loft the pass anyway. Eyes on the ball, the two men brush shoulders and make plenty of contact. Rose smacks the ball out of midair. The nearest referee signals incomplete with no flag on the play. “No sir! No sir!” Rose taunts as he slows his sprint down. “That’s dirty!” Little replies. “You cheap ass. Can’t cover anybody without holding. You ain’t no player.” Rose feels his body flare up. He steps toward Little and gives him a good, hard shove below the neck. His head jerks back and he falls to the ground. “What now? What now?” Rose screams as he stands over him. Little scrambles to his feet to defend himself. Referees and players join the chaos, and Rose tries to take a couple more swings. By the time everything calms down, the crowd grows nervous at the sight of yellow on the grass. “After the play, personal foul, unnecessary roughness, number twenty-seven, defense. Automatic first down.” The crowd of seventy thousand strong unleashes a wave of angry, vicious boos. By order of Coach Harden, Rose watches the rest from the sidelines. The boos carry into the Browns’ next running play, and then to Phil Dawson’s game-winning field goal. Rose jogs to the locker room, unable to get off the field fast enough. Several teammates have the same feeling. The boos get louder. At the tunnel entrance, several fans voice their displeasure, Jay Cooper among them. “Malik, you fucking idiot!” Cooper screams. “Thanks for losing us the game! Go back to Shittsburgh, asshole!” Before the Pittsburgh Steelers officially make the 88th selection in the 2008 NFL Draft, general manager Kevin Colbert places a call to the young man on top of their draft board. All is well; Colbert congratulates him and passes the phone to head coach Mike Tomlin. “I really like this pick, sir,” Chance Phillips, assistant general manager, says. “I know you do, Chance. Dick likes him, too, so we’ll see if he’s a fit.” “He’s definitely a fit. If not for his off-the-field stuff, he’s probably a first round pick.” “Maybe.” Phillips is being modest to his boss. Every NFL scout who works a draft falls in love with a mid-round prospect here and there; Rose is that prospect for Phillips. He has tried to assign a second round grade to Rose, even though he sees him as a first round prospect. His attempts were unsuccessful, and he could only hope that Rose would still be there when the Steelers’ third round pick came up. He is. Furthermore, this is an atypical pick for Pittsburgh, a franchise built on integrity. If not for Rose’s checkered gang history in Atlanta, he would have been a top ten pick. Phillips is as aware of this as any personnel man in football, and he knows if Rose can get his head on straight, he’ll be an all-pro corner. For players, every loss has a lingering effect, but some stick around longer than others. By the start of Tuesday’s practice, the Knights still feel the Cleveland loss in their gut. Though everyone’s immediate reaction was to blame Rose for his inexcusable penalty, some reflection has happily reminded them how thoroughly poor they played. Rose has accepted his extra suicides as punishment and wants to redeem himself this Sunday. Los Angeles’ opponent couldn’t be timed worse: Detroit. If Rose wants redemption, he has to earn it against Calvin Johnson. Merle Harden gathers his defensive troops in the secondary. “Okay,” he says, “this week, Calvin Johnson gets doubled on every passing play. No exceptions, no excuses. Malik, it’s your job to stick him at the line of scrimmage. Chet, you give him help over the top.” Every player hearing this refrains from mentioning the elephant Harden just introduced: Chet Ripka is an aging safety with declining cover skills. Asking him to cover guys like Megatron is probably too much. Rose, however, can’t resist. “Yo Chet,” Rose says, “your wheelchair fast enough for that?” A few players laugh. “Just try not to get flagged too many times, kid,” Ripka says. Rose doesn’t look happy. “Listen,” Harden says, “once we’re through with positional drills, we’re gonna use D-Jam as our Johnson clone. We’ll start there. Here we go.” Rose and Ripka continue jawing at each other, all in good fun. Ripka is one of many teammates who have given him support in the wake of his unforgivable personal foul. Many have commended him for his passionate play, but insisted he still needs to be disciplined during key moments. Other teammates have said nothing, and Rose knows they disapprove of his playing style. He doesn’t expect everybody to understand. When he and D-Jam go head to head, frustration mounts. Wilkes is overly physical, taking liberties at times. Rose tries to be physical back, but Wilkes just shoves him, abandoning his route altogether. Coach Daniel seems to be yelling at them every other play. Finally, Rose has had enough. The whistle blows for another snap and Rose runs straight at Wilkes. He extends his arm to deck him in the facemask, but Wilkes apparently has the same idea. They exchange a few solid blows and end up on the ground. As players run in to break it up, the perimeter of cameras gladly captures the footage. The third round changes the draft clock from eight to five minutes, and the draft speeds up. The Bills are on the clock with the 68th pick of the 2011 NFL Draft, and the Knights are next. None of the players still on the board have a second round grade. Chance Phillips was hoping Brandon Harris or Marcus Gilbert would fall, but no luck. The top player on L.A.’s board, however, had a second round grade before a positive marijuana test at the scouting combine. This creates a good bit of discussion. “As long as we’re discussing kids with off-the-field issues,” Phillips says, “what about that trade we discussed?” Everyone looks around, confused, then realizes what he’s saying. Phillips picks up his phone and dials a familiar number. “Colbert,” says a voice from the receiver. “Kevin!” Phillips says. “It’s Chance, L.A.” “Hey Chance,” says Kevin Colbert, Pittsburgh Steelers general manager. “What are you doing, trying to bait me into trading up?” “Not exactly. What do you think of Justin Houston?” A brief silence. Chance suspects Houston is high on the Steelers’ board, and this silence tells him he’s right. “What are you up to, Chance?” “If we take Houston with the next pick, are you interested?” “Technically we’re in a lockout, remember? We can’t trade players.” “We won’t be locked out forever, and you didn’t answer my question.” “Depends. What do you want?” “Malik Rose.” “Let me get back to you.” Phillips notices someone trying to get his attention in the war room. “Look, Buffalo just picked, so we’re up. Three minutes, Kevin.” He hangs up. Phillips turns to his colleagues. “Since nobody we love is on the board, I’m thinking we take Houston and try to work out the trade with Pittsburgh whenever the hell this lockout ends. If the trade doesn’t go through, we hang on to Houston.” “I certainly don’t object to that,” Coach Harden says. “Neither do I,” Coach Daniel says. “Mr. Schneider,” Phillips says, “when can we expect the lockout to end?” Schneider smiles. “Let’s just say I’m cautiously optimistic.” Phillips smiles back. Malik Rose hasn’t lit the world on fire in Pittsburgh, but he hasn’t been given sufficient playing time. As a Knight, he would be an immediate starter, and probably the team’s best corner now that Nnamdi Asomugha is gone. He comes with red flags, of course, but Coach Daniel prides himself on having zero tolerance for off-the-field issues. After dodging the media all week, Rose heads home Friday looking forward to tomorrow’s flight to Detroit. He lives in a city of almost four million people, but there’s only two he wants to see right now. As soon as he walks through the door he sees Eva, his wife, and embraces her. “Hey babe,” he says he hushed tones. They kiss. “You doing okay?” Eva asks. “I’m fine. What do you mean?” “Everything that’s going on.” “You know I don’t let that bother me.” “Well, it bothers me. I’m not sure I like this city. Pittsburgh was better, quieter.” She’s right; Pittsburgh was quieter. Rose even won a Super Bowl ring his rookie year, but he barely saw the field. To him, it doesn’t count. Los Angeles will be different. “We’re here now,” he says. “This is home. I’m gonna make Pittsburgh regret trading me. Where’s Jasmin?” “She just went down for a nap.” Malik leaves Eva, walks through a hallway lined with pictures, and sees his two-year-old daughter, peacefully asleep. He leans in and kisses her on the cheek. She’s just as beautiful as the day she was born. The weather hits them the instant they get off the plane. The Knights have played three of their last four at home, and the road game was in Houston. It’s October 22nd, so much of the nation is immersed in fall weather. Not Los Angeles, though. Sunday’s game is played indoors at Ford Field, shielded from the chilly Detroit weather. The crowd is amped up, even during warm-ups. The Lions are 5-1, their best start in decades. Detroit fans are enlivened by their team breaking the habit of losing season after losing season. How much longer until the Knights break theirs? Rose blocks everything out until it’s time to get on the field. When he finally does, he stares Calvin Johnson down. At 6’5”, he’s hard to miss, but Rose is 6’3”. Tall receivers have never intimidated him. On the first snap from scrimmage, Rose approaches as if playing bump-and-run. Instead, he gives Johnson a hard shove in the neck. This disrupts the rhythm of the play call, and Stafford is sacked before making a throw. Nice to meet you, Calvin. “Get used to it,” Rose chirps. On second down, Rose mercifully allows Johnson off the line, then jumps a crossing route and gives Stafford nowhere to go. He ends up scrambling and throwing it away. Rose goes back to bump-and-run on third down, and Ripka’s coverage over the top shuts the play down; Stafford apparently isn’t looking to go anywhere else with the ball. This continues series in and series out. Harden never calls zone coverage, so Rose stays with Johnson on every play. He bumps him at the line and gives him everything he can on run plays. Meanwhile, the Knights offense finally finds balance, plays turnover-free football, and owns a 14-3 lead late in the first half. One particular third down, Harden calls an all-out blitz, Ripka included. Rose is alone on Megatron. He sticks with his plan and jams Johnson at the line of scrimmage. Johnson sidesteps the jam and breaks downfield. He’s blistering fast but Rose stays with him. At the last second, Rose looks up and sees a deep pass coming for them. He can’t get to it. Johnson leaps in the air, catches it, and comes back down—Rose punches it out of his grasp. Incompletion. “C’mon, CJ!” Rose yells, waving his arms horizontally. “Gotta have that one, CJ!” When Rose returns to the bench, everyone congratulates him, even the ones who have given him the cold shoulder since the Cleveland game. Eventually, Coach Harden walks up, kneels in front of him on the bench, and stares him straight in the eye. He’s never done this. “Great. Fucking. Job. Keep it up, Malik.” The second half is more of the same. The Knights give up a touchdown to no fault of Rose’s; the Lions catch the defense off guard and set up a screen to Jahvid Best, who takes it to the house courtesy of a few missed tackles. Jonathan Maverick responds with a brilliant drive, including several electrifying scrambles by him and capped by an Alex Johnson touchdown catch. With a 21-10 lead, the defense goes back to work. Rose runs to press Johnson again, but he steps laterally instead. A screen. Rose moves in to intercept the pass, but Johnson breaks downfield. He’s been beat. He sprints to catch up but Johnson is long gone, until Ripka comes over the top and swats Stafford’s pass away. Disaster averted. “Sorry, old man,” Rose says. “Won’t happen again.” “Make sure it doesn’t. Gonna need a hip replacement running with that fucking guy.” The next play, Harden makes an interesting decision: he leaves Rose alone again, sending Ripka on a delayed blitz. Rose thinks about backing off but decides against it. He gives Johnson a hard shove. Johnson runs downfield then cuts to the middle on a crossing route. Rose breaks late but catches up. He looks and sees Stafford throwing for him. An errant pass sails into Rose’s hands. Johnson wrestles him down as he cradles the ball. As the Knights celebrate the turnover (Stafford’s second of the day), FOX’s commentators Thom Brennaman and Brian Billick contemplate Calvin Johnson’s stat line so far: 1 reception, 3 yards, 0 TDs. He’s being shut down by some no-name corner from L.A. Might be time to learn his name. The Knights add another touchdown in the fourth quarter, and the Lions can only manage one more reception—again on a screen—for their star receiver, completely blanketed by Malik Rose. Johnson finishes with 2 receptions for 10 yards. More importantly, the Knights finish with a 28-10 win. After seven weeks, a 2-5 record isn’t much to be proud of, but the Knights celebrate in the Ford Field visitor’s locker room like they’re 5-2. After things die down, Coach Daniel gets everybody’s attention. “We are a team,” he begins. “Always will be. But we are a team of individuals. And sometimes, one of those individuals rises to a greater level and inspires all of us. Malik Rose…” Rose steps forward from the crowd and everyone cheers. “After last week, Malik wanted to redeem himself. Well, son, you’ve done a hell of a lot more than that. Today, you shut down one of the best receivers in the game. Today, you introduced yourself to the National Football League. Way to go, Malik.” Daniel hands him the game ball, and everyone mobs the game’s hero, last week’s blunder now forgotten. Rose enjoys the moment and thinks of next week’s matchup against the Chiefs, who have a legitimate number one receiver in Dwayne Bowe. Rose can’t wait to meet him.

Knights of Andreas Part I Chapter Two – Face of the Franchise The bombers fly overhead during the last line of the national anthem, barely visible against the black Denver night. The crowd roars and the 2011 season officially begins for the Los Angeles Knights and Denver Broncos. They are the last teams to get underway, the second Monday Night Football matchup on opening weekend. Jonathan Maverick watches his team return the kick to the nineteen-yard-line and trots onto the field, his offense tagging along. The lockout this offseason has limited his practice time, but he’s been in the league a year. After a stellar career at Penn State that should have won him the Heisman, his underwhelming rookie season left a bad taste in his mouth. Time to fix that. Number twelve gets in the huddle, relays the play call from Coach Daniel to his offense, and lines up. The crowd screams for its defense’s first play from scrimmage. Maverick is reminded how much he hates road games. He snaps the ball from center and unwillingly hands off to Darren McFadden, who gets stuffed at the line of scrimmage. Couldn’t the coaches have picked a more creative opening play? Maverick listens to the next call and likes what he hears. He excitedly breaks the huddle and studies the defense. Everything looks good. He takes the snap from shotgun and fakes a handoff to McFadden. The linebackers don’t bite. He looks right for Johnson, not sure if he’s covered. An orange jersey surges towards him. He lofts the ball over the middle and gets thrown to the grass. The wobbly pass lands incomplete, and Maverick identifies the player who hit him as Von Miller. Maverick remembers the scouting report on him scant in information, typical for a rookie. Must have been a missed blocking assignment. “Third and ten,” he says in the huddle. “Let’s tighten up that blocking, boys!” He calls the play and sets the formation. The linebackers shuffle around, unprepared, so he snaps the ball quickly. Maverick reads the safeties and waits for Zach Miller to break in his route, but pressure comes up the middle. He rolls right and looks for Miller, but another orange jersey bears down on him. He spins to dodge the would-be tackler, but he’s not fast enough. He gets wrangled to the ground and hears the crowd erupt. Maverick spikes the ball and struts off the field. What a great way to start the season. He says nothing to his coaches or teammates. He’s seen plenty of real-speed snaps in practice, training camp, and he’s started three preseason games. Something’s different. He doesn’t remember it being this fast. The entire Los Angeles Knights front office, along with head coach Caden Daniel, sits around a table in Oakland. They’ve only been the Knights for a few weeks now, and Farmers Field won’t be ready for them to move in until summer. In the meantime, the 2010 NFL Draft looms, an event that will be integral to the team’s future success—or failure. “Alright guys,” Chance Phillips says from the head of the table. “Let’s get into it again. We’ve got the third overall pick, St. Louis and Detroit in front of us. We’ve said that we’re spending that pick on a quarterback. Before we go further, is there any doubt about that decision?” “Well, Chance,” says Paul DeMartine, director of scouting, “You and I both agree the only other prospects worthy of the pick are McCoy and Suh. However…” He glances at Merle Harden, defensive coordinator. “They’re fine young men,” Harden says, “but Suh, all due respect, doesn’t fit my defense. McCoy could as an end, but that’s not his strength, not what he’s made for. He’s a 4-3 tackle. You all know how I feel about that. Apologies for being a little old school.” “Understood, Merle,” Phillips says. “Let’s talk about the quarterbacks. We’ve run through the scouting reports, so let’s cut to the chase. Who do you guys like: Bradford or Maverick? Paul?” “Honestly, I’m torn. I love Bradford’s accuracy and anticipation. He made some real pro throws at Oklahoma. Maverick is a little more dynamic, though he comes with some red flags.” “Caden?” “I like them both,” the head coach says. “In terms of style, either one suits what I’d like to do on offense just fine.” “C’mon coach,” Phillips says, “Be honest. If we somehow get the number one pick and get to choose, who’s your guy?” “Honestly, Chance, I’m confident we can develop either one into a franchise quarterback. I think they’re both elite guys potentially. But if I had to have my pick, I’d say Bradford. He can make all the throws, and he doesn’t come with the maturity questions Maverick does. That’s a big issue.” “I agree.” Maverick brushes shoulders with the punt team on his way back on the bench and fails to drown out the crowd noise. The Denver fans scream for good reason: their team is up 28-10 in the third quarter, well on their way to a 1-0 record. Maverick paces the sideline, noticing his white jersey has far too many green and brown stains on it. He approaches the offensive line and sees the offensive line coach talking to them, undoubtedly detailing their numerous mistakes. “How many more busted assignments until we start blocking?” Maverick yells. “We got it covered,” the O-line coach says. “Oh yeah? Nobody’s got me covered. What the hell’s going on out there?” Brian Penner, the center, rises from the bench. “Relax, Mav,” Penner says calmly. “Relax? For what? You guys are getting schooled by a fucking rookie!” “We’ll get it fixed. Let us work on it.” “Let you work on it? While I take how many more sacks?” “Jonathan,” a familiar voice says. Maverick notices someone’s hand on his shoulder and turns around to see the head coach. “Come here. I’ve got some things to show you.” Maverick turns around before departing. His offensive line somehow seems unbothered, especially Penner. Whatever. Maybe the coaches have some rollout or screen ideas so he doesn’t have to get sacked anymore. From their war room, ironically still in Oakland, the Los Angeles brass watch the television screen as Commissioner Goodell delivers some spiel about hopes and dreams, then officially opens the 2010 NFL Draft. The clock on the wall ticks for the St. Louis Rams’ first pick. “Stay in contact with Detroit,” Chance Phillips says. “If someone’s calling them to trade up, we need to know. And if for whatever reason someone trades up with St. Louis, get me Mayhew immediately.” The minutes tick down from 10:00, past 9:00, past 8:00… “It’s Bradford,” a man further down the table says. “He’s on the phone in the green room.” “As expected,” Phillips says. The expected news forces a few people to shift in their seats but doesn’t reverberate with force. Goodell announces the pick formally and the war room waits for news to come from Detroit. It only takes a few minutes. “The pick is in. They’re not trading.” “Suh or McCoy?” “Hang on…Suh.” Everyone sits up. All according to plan. “As a matter of diligence,” Phillips says, “we’ll wait five minutes for any trade offers, which I don’t anticipate. Assuming nothing happens, we’ve got our franchise quarterback, ladies and gentlemen.” The minutes tick down without any calls, and Phillips picks up the phone. This is a big moment for him. A little over a month ago he released JaMarcus Russell, cutting loose a failed quarterback from a prior regime. Now, he is about to pick his own quarterback, one who will, hopefully, avoid Russell’s fate. Phillips telephones the pick. A man sitting at a table in Radio City Music Hall relays the name to the gentleman to his left, who writes it down. He hands it to the runner, who walks it towards the stage. A few seconds later, Goodell receives the draft card and strides to the podium. “With the third pick in the 2010 NFL Draft, the Los Angeles Knights select Jonathan Maverick, quarterback, Penn State.” The players sulk around the locker room, eager to travel home. One game down, fifteen to go, and the Knights are 0-1. Even worse, they’ve got a short week to prepare for Sunday’s game at Buffalo. Coach Daniel has already delivered his short post-game speech, typical for a loss. Maverick throws off his pads and notices a few offensive linemen walking by. The pain from six sacks and ten hits on forty-six drop backs feels worse than it did a moment ago. “Thanks for the blocking, assholes.” He notices Brian Penner approach him immediately. Great, another useless calm-down pep talk. “Maybe next time we’ll actually get to try our game plan?” Penner throws Maverick against his locker. His head slams against the wood and Penner’s right hand grabs his neck, choking him. Most of the locker room goes dead as their starting quarterback gasps for air. “Get off me,” he gags. “We’re gonna stop this blame game right fucking now,” Penner says. “We lost as a team. Now we’re gonna pack up and prepare for next week.” “Excuse me for wanting a little better pass protection!” “Everybody always wants to play a little better. Like I said, we win or lose together. Nothing is bigger than the team.” “I am the team! Try winning a game without a quarterback.” “I don’t care what your salary is, and neither does anybody else, pretty boy.” “That’s enough, men,” Coach Daniel says. Penner lets go and Maverick sucks in the sweaty air. “Save the energy for practice.” Maverick pants and looks around the locker room at his teammates’ faces. Nobody tried to help him. They’re not on his side. The coaches didn’t do anything either. Why the hell is everybody ganging up on him? This never would have happened at Penn State. Chance Phillips jogs onto the practice field where his team is preparing for their first preseason game. Wayne Schneider is watching, as he likes to do, and Chance needs to speak with him immediately. “Wayne!” he calls. “Hey, Chance.” They shake hands. “You look stressed. What’s up?” “The Lions just signed Suh. Sixty-three million, max value of sixty-eight. We should move quickly.” “You talk to Maverick’s agent yet?” “Just called, no answer. Left a message. I’m sure he’s milking it.” “Terrific. Lovely situation, isn’t it?” It certainly is. The preseason game against New England is in eight days, and the Knights’ franchise quarterback hasn’t seen the practice field yet. Phillips has been battling an aggressive agent who demanded the draft picks immediately before (Ndamukong Suh, Lions) and after (Gerald McCoy, Buccaneers) his client sign their deals before negotiations take place, though number figures have still been exchanged. Schneider looks like he’s thinking. Phillips suspects they’re running through the same numbers: Suh signs for sixty-three, McCoy for fifty-five (announced three days ago). “What do you think we can get?” Schneider says. “I was shooting for sixty. I can still probably make that happen, but he’ll insist on incentives, like Suh got, that’ll take it up to sixty-five.” “Well, so be it. It’s ugly, but it’s business.” “Unfortunately. Can I count on that rookie cap next year?” “No promises.” The Knights run through Wednesday practice in Los Angeles, a long way from Buffalo, where they’ll fly to in three days for an important game; 1-1 sounds a lot better than 0-2. The prospect of a road trip to upstate New York doesn’t sound all that appealing to Maverick. He tries to shrug it off as he takes another shotgun snap. Protected by a red jersey, he sets his feet comfortably in the pocket and launches passes down the field. “Good blocking, O-line, good blocking,” he says after the play. Nobody reacts. “Way to stick your man, Penner.” The center shifts as if to acknowledge the statement, then gets set for the next play. Maverick is really trying here. If his offensive line plans to resist, will he actually have to apologize? He never imagined his NFL career would start like this. He knew his incredible talent would shoot him up draft boards and land him on a shitty team, but things should be turning around by now, right? At least he still has the Audi R8 waiting for him in the parking lot, as well as Brandi and her brand new breasts at home, all courtesy of a five-year, $60 million contract. Practice ends, and Maverick showers off his frustration. The locker room is quiet as players filter out for the day. Maverick heads for the exit and notices Penner walking alongside him. Should he? Fuck it. “Hey, Penner, got a second?” “What’s up?” “Listen, about the game on Monday…I was taking a lot of sacks. I don’t like taking sacks. I need to be making plays, you know?” Penner just stands there. Is he waiting for more? Maverick doesn’t know what else to say. Finally, he says, “Don’t sweat it. We all get heated on game day.” He walks away. Is that it? Was there supposed to be more? Is everything good now? Maverick isn’t sure, and he doesn’t worry about it. He leaves the facility and heads home to have sex with his girlfriend. Practice the following day gives no hints as to whether Penner accepted Maverick’s apology or not, so he forgets about it. The team makes their final adjustments for the Buffalo game and wraps up practice for the week. Before long they arrive in Buffalo, New York, where Maverick is unsurprisingly disappointed by the lack of nightlife. Sunday afternoon, the Knights take a knee inside the visiting locker room of Ralph Wilson Stadium. Prayer wraps up, and players start jumping around quietly. All eyes focus on their head coach. “We didn’t play the way we wanted last week. We didn’t even come close. But today is a new day. Today, we show this league what the Los Angeles Knights are capable of. Now let’s go out there and execute!” A few players cheer and head for the field. Maverick goes back to his locker and kneels for one last prayer. He rises, turns, and jogs toward the tunnel. Most of the team already gone, Brain Penner is among those left. “Big game today, QB!” Penner says. “Hey Brian, wait up!” Maverick calls. Penner stops and Maverick approaches him. “We did this on Wednesday, Mav.” “I know, I know. But, you and me, are we good?” Penner thinks for a second, then puts his hand on Maverick’s shoulder. “I think you got some growing up to do.” What an asshole. “But you’re my quarterback. I will always have your back on game day.” He taps Maverick’s shoulder pad and runs for the tunnel. Maverick follows. Time to get a win.

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.