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Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Twenty-Six – At Knight’s End Chance Phillips drives through Monday morning traffic on his way to begin what will be a very disappointing week. The sting of yesterday’s loss, and the Knights’ elimination from playoff contention, hasn’t gone away, and it probably won’t anytime soon. 8-7 is a good record, Phillips believes, but the Knights were once 7-2. From 7-2 to 8-7—he can’t get that figure out of his head. Even worse, the team’s flip-flop complicates the evaluation process immensely; which version of the team is a mirage? After a rollercoaster season, the Knights still haven't answered the question: are they a good football team? Are they contenders? Phillips parks in his spot as Coach Harden walks past his car toward the front door. “Morning, Mr. Phillips,” Harden says. “Good morning, coach.” Phillips wonders about Harden too. His contract will be up soon, and his refusal to talk about an extension always struck Phillips as odd. Does Harden not want to be back? That could sync with Schneider’s idea of a fall guy, but Phillips still doesn’t see a valid reason to adopt a new defensive philosophy. Full of thoughts, Phillips enters the building and spots Harden and Daniel talking. Harden looks concerned. “What’s going on?” Phillips says. “My apologies, Merle,” Daniel says, lifting a poster off the wall and placing it on his desk. “I can’t help because I’m not the coach anymore.” “What?” Phillips almost drops his coffee. “Caden, what the hell are you talking about?” “C’mon, Chance. There’s no need for us to be anything but straightforward now. I just got out of Wayne’s office, and he informed me of your decision.” Phillips understands what has happened and feels a flare of anger heating his face. “Excuse me, Caden. Merle.” Phillips throws out his coffee, passes the elevator, and runs upstairs. A crack of light shines between Schneider’s door and its frame. Phillips shoves it open, swinging it around and slamming against the wall. Schneider looks up, on the phone. “You spineless piece of shit,” Phillips says, his teeth grinding. “I’m gonna have to call you back,” Schneider says, hanging up. “Sit down, Chance.” “I don’t fucking believe you.” “Chance, that’s—” “We talked about this, goddamn it! We had an agreement!” “Circumstances have changed. And while I respect your opinion, something had to be done. And the sooner, the better.” “You son of a—” “I understand your anger, Chance. I went over your head, something I had hoped never to do, and for that I apologize. I should remind you, though, that I own this football team and can do with it what I please. That being said, calm down, hear me out, and I will convince you this is the right decision.” Phillips considers several options, including punching Schneider in the face, but he sits down, his hands pressed firmly against the armchair. “I’m listening.” “What I saw in Carolina yesterday was inexcusable and indefensible. It was the culmination of something that’s been building, unfortunately, for some time now. Daniel lost the locker room. At the very least, the entire team lost its focus after a hot start and that falls directly on his shoulders. They felt the need to call a players-only meeting and it didn’t accomplish a damn thing.” Schneider pauses, and Phillips isn’t sure he’s supposed to speak. His mind bounces all of this around in his head too quickly to organize words. “A week ago, you said that if Daniel wasn’t the guy to take us all the way, we would find out next season. And I agreed. But based on yesterday—based on this season as a whole—I’m convinced keeping him around would do more harm than good. We need new leadership as soon as possible.” “You just fired a coach who’s 8-7. After we had six wins last year. We could finish 9-7 and you just fired our fucking head coach.” “Our 8-7 record is highly misleading.” “You scouted him. You interviewed him with me. You and I agreed he was the coach to lead our franchise. We’ve gotten progressively better every season, and you fire him because of a losing streak.” “We have not gotten progressively better. As I said, our—” “Jesus Christ, Wayne. How many times have we talked about communication? About togetherness? You saw what happened with Al Davis in Oakland and now, here you are, fucking everything up in the same way.” “That’s enough.” “No, it’s not enough. I can’t believe—” “Take caution before you go any further, Chance. Daniel is gone, and you can join him if you like.” “I’m not sure that would be such a bad idea.” The words slip out of Phillips’ mouth before he can stop them, but he doesn’t care. “I’m not sure I can work under you after this…this…atrocity.” “If that’s your decision, I respect it. But I want you to know I still consider you the best general manager in the NFL.” “Oh, give me a fucking break.” “And I say that because you can make the tough decisions. That’s what this is all about.” “What do you mean?” “I’ve been talking around with other owners. Nothing official, nothing on the record, of course. Black Monday this year is going to be big. A lot of big names available.” “I don’t believe this.” “Again, none of this is certain, but you’ve got guys like Andy Reid who will be available. You can make a pitch to Sean Payton if he doesn’t want to go back to New Orleans after Bountygate. It’s a rich college market. We have a huge opportunity, Chance, to take this football team to the next level.” “We had our guy picked. And you fired him.” “So be it.” “How do I know you don’t have his replacement already picked?” “Because I’m not choosing our next head coach. You are.” Slightly calmer now, Phillips considers the daunting task of hiring a head coach. He has no intention of going through that again, though quitting may be his only way out of it. “I’m not putting my name behind this decision,” Phillips says. He gets up and walks towards the doorway. “You have to, Chance. As of now, all anybody knows is that the Knights fired Daniel, assuming it was a mutual decision between the two of us.” Phillips stops in the doorway. “Do you really want to be known as the GM who lets his owner make all the big decisions?” “Isn’t that what I am now?” “You are exactly what the press thinks you are.” Daniel packs up more belongings from his office while Harden finishes his iced coffee. The two haven’t exchanged a word since Phillips left, though assistant coaches arriving have offered encouragement—after expressing their shock. Phillips joins the crowd as Daniel leaves with a full box. “Caden, listen, I—” “Don’t. You made the decision you felt was right for the team.” “I…I’m sorry it ended this way.” “Me too. I’ll be back later this week for the rest of my things, and to say goodbye to the players and coaches. I don’t want to disrupt things; please let me know what time would be best.” Phillips wants to shake his hand, but Daniel’s arms are tied up with the box. He walks away awkwardly, leaving the Knights behind. Phillips notices several assistant coaches staring at him in what he believes to be anger. Assistant GM Paul DeMartine walks in, apparently surprised to see Daniel leaving, and notices the congregation. “Paul,” Phillips says. “My office. Now.” Among the crowd, Harden still can’t find words for anything. Unsure what to say or do, he remembers the team has a game to play this Sunday, which seems an enormous undertaking right now. In downtown Los Angeles, about a twenty-minute walk from Farmers Field, a sports bar opens for another day of business. Eight years old, the bar was founded as “Harry’s,” an unoriginal name given by its principal investor. Soon after Los Angeles heard details about its new NFL team, it was renamed “Knight’s End” and has since become a popular get-together location for Knights fans. Jay Cooper strolls in just after noon to eat lunch and scout the place. He’s been here a few times, and it seems as good a spot as any to watch Knights games in the wake of his lifetime ban from Farmers Field. He orders a club sandwich and beer from a seat at the empty bar. After light conversation with the bartender and a few sips of beer, some noise on one of the televisions gets his attention; it’s NFL Network. “We’re a week from Black Monday,” the in-studio anchor says, “but we’ve already got a stunner. According to sources, the Los Angeles Knights have fired head coach Caden Daniel.” “What the fuck?” Cooper says, almost spitting up some beer. His eyes fixate on the coverage for the next few hours, many beers in between. He synchronizes his bathroom trips with commercial breaks. The Knights announce a formal press conference later that afternoon, giving the media plenty of time to digest the firing. “…undoubtedly a surprise. You’re talking about an organization with a new, young owner, a relatively new general manager. They were just starting to get this thing turned around…” “…I understand that the team went from 7-2 to out of the playoffs. But you have to stay committed to the long-term plan. I know a lot of fans are angry, and understandably so, but you don’t have a reaction like this …” “…Daniel leaves Los Angeles with an 18-29 record…” “…what they’ve done is put themselves in a really tough position. If the Knights’ new head coach for next year, whoever it is, doesn’t produce results, Knights fans are going to wonder, ‘Why didn’t we just stick it out with Daniel? Why didn’t we stay the course?’…” “…at 8-7, this season is already the Knights first to reach .500. In Oakland, the Raiders last had a winning season in 2002…” “…seems so out of character for a franchise that has shown patience over the last few years. And that patience has paid off. I think they may have panicked here…” Doors open for the press conference, and seats quickly fill with journalists, ready to ask tough questions and tweet the answers. Adam Javad, whose reputation has taken a hit, takes a seat near the back. Among all Knights beat writers, he was perhaps the most adamant that Coach Daniel would not be fired, while most refrained from committing either way. Javad knows he interpreted Phillips’ message correctly, unless it was deliberate misdirection. But what does Phillips gain from screwing Javad like this? The conference soon begins with Wayne Schneider and Chance Phillips at the podium facing a capacity crowd. “First off,” Phillips says, “I want to thank Caden Daniel for his dedication and his service to this organization. Three years ago, we faced a great challenge in turning this franchise around, and Coach Daniel played a tremendous role in bringing us to this point. For that we will always be grateful.” Phillips stops and glances down at two sheets of paper. Unknown to Schneider, he has two speeches in front of him: one detailing the reasons for firing Daniel and explaining why it will help the team long-term, the other describing the true timeline of events and Phillip’s resignation as general manager. “However,” he says after a deep breath, “we feel that this is the right decision for this team moving forward, though we admit it is a difficult one. Ultimately, our decision centered on team’s 7-2 start to the season. We firmly believe that record—and the team’s overall performance—to be a reflection of this team’s talent and ability. And considering that, the recent stretch that saw us eliminated from the playoffs was unacceptable, and could not go without consequence.” Phillips goes on, essentially branching out the same thesis with empty words, he feels. He concludes with, “Merle Harden is the team’s interim head coach for Sunday’s game against the Chargers. Our coach beyond that will be based on a thorough, comprehensive search, as I indicated.” Phillips zones out as Schneider faces some questions; the tough inquiries come immediately. “Mr. Schneider, when you bought the Oakland Raiders, you promised fans patience, and you promised continuity, specifically mentioning the numerous head coaches during the Raiders’ era of dysfunction. What do you say to fans now to justify this decision?” Phillips eyes Schneider intensely. Yes, Wayne, how do you justify this? “You’re right, I did promise continuity. But I also promised a commitment to success. And I promised a Super Bowl. I completely agree with Chance in that this is a necessary step to take us to that level.” The reporters keep firing, with Phillips on the receiving end of more than his share. A calmer question eventually comes about assistant coaches, and Schneider takes the initiative. “One thing I want to point out about this decision is it was more about leadership than anything else. This is not an indictment of the team from a scheme standpoint. So we have no current plans to fire assistant coaches; those decisions will be made by Chance and our next coach.” Tuesday morning, Knights players assemble in the locker room for an address from the general manager. Everyone has had twenty-four hours to digest the departure of their head coach, though no one feels much better or worse than they did after hearing it the first time. Maverick stands with his receivers and contemplates the future. Daniel worked with Maverick a lot in developing him, but he’s learned as much as he can, he believes. Then again, what if they bring in some new offensive guy who wants to change everything? That’s not gonna fly. One of his receivers, Bishop, enjoyed playing for Daniel more than any coach he has had at any level. A reunion is still possible (assuming Daniel stays in the NFL), but he’s now torn between the Knights’ five-year offer and free agency. Most players on defense have mild feelings about Daniel, who rarely meddled on their side of the ball. But what if the new coach does? Ripka isn’t sure getting rid of Daniel was best for the team with so many young guys still developing, but he knows business, and what’s done is done. Chance Phillips arrives briefly to deliver some useless GM nonsense and to announce that Coach Harden is the head coach for Sunday. A few players already knew this from his press conference. Harden jumps in and clarifies: “I run the defense, business as usual. Coach Everett runs the offense.” As the team runs through an odd week of preparation for the Chargers, the front office begins a laborious search for a new head coach. Phillips believes this is the biggest challenge an NFL general manager can face: how do you evaluate coaches? Evaluating players is difficult, of course, but you have lots of game tape to watch. For coaches, there are only so many factors you can measure objectively. How do they manage their timeouts? What is their success rate for challenges? They have a win-loss record, of course, but how much of that can be credited to them versus the players they have? The biggest attribute a head coach can have, leadership, is near impossible to measure. Then, after you’ve somehow identified viable candidates, the interview becomes critical. The candidate must give the right answers, and the interviewing team must ask the right questions. For Phillips, identifying candidates is complicated by the Knights’ situation with their coordinators. Tom Everett is under contract, but he was Daniel’s handpicked guy. An offense-minded head coach could easily want a new offensive coordinator. That wouldn’t sit well for Phillips, who wants the offense to remain mostly the same. Maverick is still a young quarterback and he doesn’t want to hinder his growth. Merle Harden presents similar problems. If he wants to re-sign with Los Angeles, Phillips wants to bring him back as defensive coordinator, no questions asked. But how many head coaches would go along with that? Phillips recalls how he and Daniel hired Harden reluctantly; another coach may feel similarly. But regardless of what happens with Harden, Phillips insists the defensive scheme remain intact. So, the top priority in the head-coaching search is schematic continuity on both sides of the ball. This leads to a very wide list of candidates, which shouldn’t be a problem. The Knights have a roster capable of winning, which—in theory—makes them an attractive job opening. As the Knights put one last week of practice in the books, Coach Harden amends his routine only slightly, considering himself interim head coach in name only. Still, he enjoys some new freedoms assigned to him. While the team stretches as part of warm-ups, he wanders toward some offensive players for some friendly insults. Not surprisingly, Maverick is the first to fire back. “Why don’t you stick to defense, coach?” “As many picks as you’ve thrown this year, you’ve probably made enough tackles to qualify.” “Ouch. Thanks for the encouragement.” “I inspire confidence wherever I can, Mav.” Harden puts on a happy face for his players, but he can’t erase retirement from his mind. He still hasn’t told management that this will be his last game, and at this point, it’s probably best to wait until next week. After Friday’s practice finishes, Harden makes his way out of team headquarters, hoping to catch a drink before heading home. Traffic is hell right now anyway. “Coach! Hold up!” Harden spins around in the parking lot and sees Chance Phillips. “Afternoon, Mr. Phillips.” “I know you’re on your way out, but do you mind if I talk to you for a second?” “Sure. What’s on your mind?” “You, as a matter of fact.” Harden sighs. So much for waiting until after the game to break the news. “I know, Chance. My contract.” “Not exactly.” “How do you mean?” “Your contract as defensive coordinator expires, we all know that. I want to give you a head coaching contract.” “Wh—what? You want me to take over for Daniel?” “Yes.” “Chance, I’ve never been a head coach at this level.” “I’m well aware of that.” “So why me?” Phillips hesitates. “You want me to be honest?” Harden nods. “I don’t have any other options. I believe in this roster, and I believe in continuity. I believe the best thing for the players right now is to give them a familiar face, not bring in someone who will shake things up and change routines.” “Then why fire Daniel?” “It had to be done, and that’s all there is.” “I see.” “I know I’m a management guy, Merle. I’ve never been a coach. But I see the players; they respond to you. This defense fucking loves playing for you. I look at you and I see a head coach we can win Super Bowls with. I mean that. So despite your lack of reliability, your lack of commitment in the offseason, and your alcohol trouble—let’s not pretend I don’t know—I don’t have any other choice but to offer you the job. And I really hope you take it.” “Chance, I…” “Just think about it. Alright? We’ll interview plenty of candidates regardless, but between you and me, the job is yours if you want it.” The Knights and Chargers kick off each team’s final game of the season. The Chargers are 5-10, a dreadful record that prompts plenty of home fans to bring signs calling for Norv Turner’s firing. To the rest of the league, this game is meaningless. Knights players know this, though most of the young players value the experience anyway. As Coach Everett and Coach Harden have been preaching all week, you get better by playing, so every game counts. The Knights start sluggishly and the Chargers jump out to a 10-0 lead by the end of the first quarter. Harden sees much of the same from the players: lack of energy, failure to execute. Then again, he can’t blame them; they know it’s over. He coordinates the defense like normal and prowls the sidelines with greater range. He especially enjoys chewing out the refs, probably his favorite perk of being head coach for a day. Maverick does his best to move the offense with Everett calling the plays. Nothing seems drastically different about his play-calling style compared to Daniel. Jaxson gets his usual share of carries, thankful his playing time is not dependent on Daniel’s presence. Bishop plays the game apprehensively, wondering if this is his last as a Knight. He’s smart enough to realize he has enough tape to showcase his abilities; he doesn’t need to light it up today to prove himself. On the other side of the ball, Martin feels differently. He almost certainly needs to prove himself capable of playing inside linebacker to the rest of a league that has only seen him as a special teams player. Both teams add a field goal in the second quarter and the Chargers lead at halftime, 13-3. Harden doesn’t give any kind of speech (nor did he before the game), and the second half starts the same way, with the Chargers extending their lead to 20-3. Maverick and the offense respond, finally connecting on a deep pass to Jefferspin-Wilkes. 20-10, Chargers. Harden’s defensive adjustments finally hit a sweet spot, suffocating the Chargers offense and flustering Phillip Rivers, who throws an interception to Griswold Johnson. The Knights capitalize on a drive that takes the game into the fourth quarter and reaches the end zone. 20-17, Chargers. The next Knights possession stalls at midfield, the offense facing fourth and one. “Go for it, coach?” Everett asks Harden, surprising him. “I’ve got a play if you say yes.” Harden sizes up the situation: down three points, ball at the fifty, 6:45 to go. “Let’s roll,” Harden says. Everett radios the call to Maverick, who lines everybody up quickly. Qualcomm Stadium gets loud. Maverick sneaks it up the middle and gets the first down behind Penner. Harden congratulates Everett on the call, feeling a surge of energy propel the team into Chargers territory. Knight’s End celebrates a go-ahead touchdown and the Knights take the lead, 24-20. The usual game day crowd has assembled, Jay Cooper now among them. He sits at the same seat at the bar, trying to flag down the bartender for a refill. By the time he gets one, he immerses himself in the glass, making up for lost time. The whole bar screams in horror and Cooper looks up: the Chargers run the kickoff all the way back to retake the lead. Fucking special teams. Cooper downs his drinks faster as the Knights mount a potential game-winning drive, but it falls short. The Chargers win, 27-24, and the Knights officially finish the 2012 season with an 8-8 record. Conversations start up all over the bar. “Man, if you’d have told me we’d be 8-8, I would have taken it. But…” “I know. What a fucked up year.” “So who’s the new coach, guys?” “Andy Reid!” “Seriously? They just fired Daniel because he ‘couldn’t take them to the next level,’ and you want to hire a coach who’s lost ten NFC Championship Games?” “Schneider’s got plenty of money. Tell him to reach deep and throw it all at Sean Payton!” “Nick Saban, baby!” As the verbal coaching carousel rages on, Cooper talks to another fan, much younger than him, at the bar. He never gets his name, though he says he’s from Florida and sports a beard that belongs in medieval times. “We should still be good next year,” he says. “8-8 may suck, but we’re two games better than last season, still got a young team. Lots of talent.” “Won’t make a difference if the next coach sucks,” Cooper says. “Whoever it is, hopefully he has some balls.” “Agreed.” “Well, we got eight months to think about it, I guess. Fucking football.” “Still plenty of beer in the world.” “Cheers, brother.” Hours later, Cooper manages to pay his tab, leaves the bar wasted, and stumbles home. Merle finishes his coffee and heads for his car. Today is Black Monday, and he can only guess how many head coaches are getting bad news, trying to decide how to explain it to their families while their players clean out their lockers for the offseason. “Merle, wait,” Melinda says, joining him at the door. “Are we going to talk about this first?” “We already did,” Merle says. Melinda reacted poorly when he told her about the head-coaching job on the table, but it was miles worse when he admitted he was considering it. “Merle, you have enjoyed a great career, and I’m proud of you…” Merle thinks about that “great career.” He recalls his two state championship losses at the high school level, his time in the college ranks, his work in Charlotte and Los Angeles. “…Could you stick it out for a few more years? Maybe, maybe not. But either way, you have bigger priorities right now. You have to take care of your family.” He looks around at his house, at his wife, at his daughter’s car in the driveway. “This isn’t my only family.” Players clean out their lockers slowly, savoring every moment before the media surrounds them for the last time. Most players know they’ll be back in a few months, while a few are unofficially free agents. By the time Harden arrives, the entire coaching staff and management team stands with him in the locker room. Chance Phillips stays quiet and maintains his distance from Schneider, not sure exactly how the two will work together from here. He wonders if he should have resigned when he had the chance. “Well,” Harden says once things go quiet, “if anyone has anything they’d like to say before we all head off, now’s the time.” “I do.” The crowd makes a path so everyone can see Chet Ripka. “I wasn’t sure how to say this, so I’ll get straight to it: I’ve decided to retire. Yesterday was my last NFL game.” The air is sucked out from the locker room. No one lets out a gasp or covers their mouth with their hands, but everyone is stunned. “When you get old, you can feel it every day, every game, every play,” Ripka says. “I could probably give it one more year, but…the concussion.” He pauses to compose himself, and the players realize this is the first time they’ve ever seen Ripka struggle with his emotions. “It really wasn’t the fact that I got a concussion. It was that when they asked me how many I’d already sustained, I wasn’t sure. I have a family to look after now, and while I will miss playing on Sundays, I honestly look forward to the quiet life.” Ripka purses his lips, trying to continue. No one says anything, and no one will until it’s clear he’s finished. “One more thing,” Ripka says. “I’ve had a great career, and there’s no doubt that career will be defined for what I did in Chicago, as a Bear. But let me say here and now, for the record, that part of me will always be a Knight. I have you all to thank for that.” Apparently finished, Ripka takes a few steps back from into the crowd. Nearby players tap his shoulders and shake his hand. “Alright then,” Harden says, fighting back the shock and disappointment of losing one of the greatest veteran safeties he’s ever coached. “Anyone else retiring?” Everyone looks around; no one speaks. “Good. For those you sticking around, I’m sure your curious as to who your new coach is gonna be. Well, you’re looking at him.” Phillips looks up in shock, this being news to him. He glances at Schneider, who looks uneasy, then back to Harden, who seems more confident than ever. “I’ve spoken with Mr. Phillips, and I understand there are some procedural things to clear up, but starting next season, I’m in charge.” He steps towards the middle of the room and surveys the players’ reactions. That sounds fine to Maverick, though things are still uncertain offensively. Is Everett sticking around? Will Harden pick his own guy to micromanage the offense? Bishop feels disappointed. He knows Harden is a good coach, but he has no desire to play for a tough, in-your-face coach like him. Free agency is now imminent. Randall loves this. He has to assume nothing will change defensively, and although he will miss Ripka’s leadership, it’s his turn to take complete charge of the defense. Brock feels encouraged. Harden likes him, which increases the chances of him re-signing with the Knights. Maybe he can still squeeze out a nice paycheck. Martin has similar thoughts, still hoping to become a full-time inside linebacker. If any coach will do that for him, it’s Harden. “For those of you returning,” Harden says, “I want you to think about something as you enjoy some time off. We let the season get away from us this year. I don’t think any of us know exactly how or why, but we let it get away and we lost who we are. When you go home to your families, when you head out of the country for vacation, and when you return for workouts this offseason, I want you to remember that.” Harden studies the faces of the men around him, the entire football team. His football team. “We lost what it means to be a Knight. Next year, we’re gonna get it back.”

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Twenty-Five – Fire Daniel Monday morning talk shows always carry a bitter, angry tone after a loss. Regardless of the team’s record or standing, losses create a palpable sense of mourning. Losses cause reactions, both quick and profound. Losses launch a search for answers, explanations, and, sometimes, justice. The Knights have lost twenty-seven games since moving to Los Angeles, and fans have endured twenty-seven Mondays of recovery. Perspective was easy to maintain, however, for a rebuilding franchise. Now that the veil has been lifted, four losses in the last five weeks have had a compounding effect. After watching their team tumble from a postseason certainty to the outside looking in, radio hosts, television anchors, and die-hard fans go beyond searching for answers. They want action. They want blood. Fans waste no time pointing to head coach Caden Daniel. Many call for his firing, and #FireDaniel trends on Twitter in the Los Angeles area. Plenty of fans phone in to radio shows expressing their frustration. “Look what’s happened to the team. Look what’s happened. They’re falling apart! This is a disgrace!” “Obviously Daniel’s gotta go, but the real question is who replaces him? I think you look to college again. Why don’t we try to get Nick Saban? Maybe you can get Chip Kelly.” “What was that fourth down call yesterday? In your own territory with six minutes left? Are you kidding me? That’s a call made by a guy fearing for his job.” “He came in with this rah-rah policy about integrity, saying players have to respect themselves or whatever. And what happens? Rose with that nightclub thing last year, D-Jam with a DUI, and now Brock busted for pot. Whatever Daniel’s message is, it’s clearly not getting through.” “I never understood why we didn’t hire Pete Carroll. He was a local guy, he knew Southern California, he would have been perfect. And look at the Seahawks: 9-5, gonna make the playoffs. Now look at us.” “Two losses to the Chiefs? They suck! They’re 4-10. Four wins, and two of them came against us.” “When a team has such a stark turnaround from dominating to this…I mean, when’s the last time the Knights looked impressive? The Baltimore game? And that was just because D-Jam went crazy. Other than that, the Bucs game, I guess. Since then, it’s like a different football team. And we haven’t been unlucky with injuries, we just started to suck. That has to fall on the head coach.” At 8-6, the Knights now trail the Colts (9-5) and Bengals (8-6) for Wild Card spots. The Ravens (9-5) can become a factor if they fail to win the AFC North, and the Steelers (7-7) could still creep into the picture. The season’s final two weeks could mix the seeding several ways, but there’s an immediate bottom line for the Knights: if they beat Carolina this week, they’re still alive in week 17. Nothing seems out of the ordinary at team headquarters. All meetings start on time and coaches plan for Sunday as usual. But worry is in the air. Just after lunch, Chance Phillips gets a call from Wayne Schneider: private meeting, owner’s office. “What’s on your mind, Wayne?” Phillips asks, taking a seat across from Schneider’s desk. “This losing streak of ours.” “It’s bad, I know.” “What do you think of Daniel?” “What do you mean?” “I know neither one of us follows him around, but you see more of him than I do. Anything different lately?” “Not that I’ve noticed.” “There must be something. You’ve seen the players. Do you think he’s lost the locker room?” Phillips feels uneasy; these are never good questions to ask. “There must be some explanation for the team’s play of late.” “Wayne, let’s cut to the chase here. You’re not thinking of…” “I am thinking of anything that benefits this football team.” Schneider’s voice is firm, and Phillips leans forward, eyes wide open. He suspected Schneider would at least mention the possibility, but this is serious. “Wayne,” Phillips says, “I think that would be a very inappropriate kneejerk reaction. I’m not saying Daniel is immune to blame for what’s happening, but let’s think big picture. We’re 8-6, winning record, in the playoff hunt. We identified Daniel as our guy three years ago, and I see nothing to make me think we were wrong.” “I don’t disagree that he was the right guy to turn things around. What I’m beginning to wonder is whether he’s the guy moving forward.” “Moving forward?” “Remember when I hired you, Chance? We talked about the rebuilding process and agreed it consists of two phases: going from a bad team to a good team, then going from a good team to a great one. It’s that second phase I’m concerned with. And the board agrees.” “Whoa, wait a minute. The board? Wayne, I feel like I’m being shut out here.” “You’re not. That’s why we’re having this conversation. I have no reservations about you as general manager, Chance, and I want this to be a mutual decision, as always. I just want you to see which way I’m leaning and hear your side of things.” Phillips gathers his thoughts, suddenly realizing he’s in the middle of a critical conversation. “Well, I think we should take our time and think about this before rushing into everything, and…Look, you’re right about the two phases. And I think we agree the second phase is more difficult.” “Exactly my point. I’m wondering if, to take this team to the next level, we need to make a coaching change.” “A new head coach? I would argue the loss in continuity would offset any other benefits, and that’s assuming we find a good coach, which is very difficult.” “I disagree. Look what Harbaugh did with the 49ers year one.” “The 49ers weren’t a winning team on the rise when they hired Harbaugh.” “Chance, you have always said a great general manager isn’t afraid to make a difficult decision if he thinks it’s the right one.” “And I don’t think this is the right decision.” Phillips can’t believe he’s discussing the possibility of firing Caden Daniel. He must outline to Schneider why it would be a terrible decision, because while Schneider might be considering it now, it needs to be off the table by the end of the conversation. As talk of firing Coach Daniel spreads among the Knights fan base, beat writers toss out their opinions. Adam Javad is no exception, but like most others, he assumes, he tries to dig deeper for facts on the story—if there is one. Everything he knows about the organization says they’re too stable to fire Daniel after a season that will end up as an improvement over last year, but he can’t be sure. Journalists love to speculate in situations like this, and the ones who end up right in hindsight look better in the end. Javad sends a text to Phillips: “Anything on Daniel? Won’t report, just want to speculate correctly.” “So we’re in agreement there,” Schneider says. “If Daniel isn’t the guy to take us to a Super Bowl…” “Next season will tell us,” Phillips says. “Right.” “Does that mean he starts next year on the hot seat?” “That depends.” Schneider looks around the office. “Where’s the hot seat button?” They laugh, and Phillips breaths easier, the conversation going much more smoothly now. He has always enjoyed working under Schneider, an owner who believes in communication. And though he personally has tried to brush it off, he can’t blame Schneider for being concerned with the team’s inexplicable losing streak. “Thank you, Chance,” Schneider says, “for being open with me. This is just an unfortunate situation where the business side of the game comes into play.” “I can understand that.” “I’m afraid if we miss the playoffs, something may have to be done. Not necessarily a major move, but something.” Phillips feels concerned again. Schneider obviously wants to shake things up if the season ends badly. Phillips has to offer something, even if he doesn’t mean it. A thought crosses his mind. “What about Harden?” Phillips says. “What about him?” “We were never thrilled to hire him to begin with. You remember. His contract is up; we could look elsewhere for someone who gels more with Daniel.” “That sounds good in theory. Come to think about it, if we spin things just the right way, we can let him take the fall for the concussion scandal. If it’s necessary, of course.” “I’m not sure that’d be fair to Harden, but you’re right; it’s a possibility.” “Let’s think about it.” The meeting ends minutes later. Phillips checks his phone and reads Javad’s text. The Daniel rumors must be growing a life of their own by now. It certainly couldn’t hurt to put some water on the fire. He texts back: “Can’t see a HC change.” The last time the Los Angeles Knights got this much airtime on sports shows, it was due to their emergence from the bottom half of the AFC West. Now, analysts break down the team’s performance before and after week 9, showing plenty of two-column graphics. The team’s statistical performance has declined, seemingly out of nowhere, and they have shown no signs of improvement over the last few weeks. The driving question used to be: are the Knights legitimate? Now that they’re losing to poor teams, the question becomes: are the Knights frauds? Was their hot start to the season a fluke? They were 6-10 last year, after all. In the locker room, nothing changes. After last week’s meeting, there’s nothing left to be sad. Everyone focuses on the game ahead, and while some players know more about playoff scenarios than others do, the whole team treats it as a must-win. “The playoffs start now,” Daniel says throughout the week. Spirits manage to lift a little by the end of the week when Brock claims he “never lost interest” in the sack contest and asserts that he will maintain his current one-sack lead over Grantzinger. Merle Harden arrives home late Thursday night, worn down from extra time in the film room. He has the challenge of containing Cam Newton this week, and mobile quarterbacks have been something of a weakness for his defenses over the years. He steps in the front door toward the refrigerator and an unpleasant aroma hits his nose. “What the fuck’s that smell?” “That’s vomit,” Melinda says, appearing out of the kitchen. “And it was cleaned up hours ago.” “Trish?” “Mmhmm.” “I need a drink.” “Merle—” “Relax, Mel. Light a candle or something. C’mon, have a drink with me.” Merle grabs two beers, hands his wife one, and they sit on the front porch. They both enjoy sanctuary from the smell. “Where is Trish now?” Merle asks. “Still sleeping it off.” “Lovely.” “Listen, Merle...I’ve been thinking.” “This can’t be good.” Merle takes deep swigs of beer. “It’s not. It’s not good. Our daughter should be doing things with her life, but she can’t. Because she’s trapped.” “You’re being dramatic. I was worse off at her age and I turned out okay.” “But she’s not you, Merle. She may be your daughter but she’s not you. She needs us to be home, to help her. And I don’t just mean around more in the offseason. She can’t keep clinging to a father who’s only around enough to drive her home when…” “What are you saying, Mel?” Merle focuses on his wife, who has tears forming in her eyes. “I’m saying we have a duty to raise our daughter properly. Either you take that seriously, or I want a divorce.” “You mean retire? You’re blackmailing me into retirement with divorce threats?” “It’s more than a threat.” “No it’s not.” Merle looks back to the mountains and drinks more beer. He thinks about when he coached in Carolina and had a similar view of the Appalachians, when Trisha was just a little girl. He looks forward to the team’s road trip this week, if only for the nostalgia. “That’s alright. I had my mind made up anyway.” Friday afternoon, the week’s final practice winds down as the Knights’ front office receives an official notice from the league. Schneider summons Phillips to his office immediately. “We got a ruling on Ripka’s concussion,” Schneider says as Phillips walks through the doorway. “Let’s hear it.” “One-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar fine. No forfeiture of draft picks.” “No picks, thank God. That’s a hefty fine, though.” “Unfortunately. But it could have been worse.” “What was the league’s ruling?” “They said they couldn’t prove wrongdoing one way or another, but that we indisputably failed to follow established protocol regarding a possible concussion.” “That sounds rather weak. A hundred fifty for protocol?” “I told you concussions are a big deal.” “So Goodell wants to make an example, I get that, but us? His proud franchise in Los Angeles?” “He only plays favorites when he wants to.” Phillips brushes off the fine, thankful he hasn’t lost any draft picks. This news may be coming at the worst possible time, but at least the situation is over. Phillips has had time to think about the scandal and decides there are a hundred ways the press could have gotten wind of Ripka’s concussion and passed it along to the league. They can worry about any public image fallout another day. Chance Phillips flies to Carolina for the road game as usual, but Wayne Schneider accompanies him. Given the heightened drama surrounding the game, neither Jack nor Max accompanies their father for a custom that is quickly going out of style. Phillips and Schneider find their designated luxury suite atop Bank of America Stadium and set up the televisions. With various playoff scenarios to be determined, they’ll keep an eye on several games around the league while watching the one in front of them. As players wrap up pre-game warm-ups, Phillips watches the Colts/Chiefs game, tied 13-13 in the fourth quarter. If the Colts lose and the Knights win, the Knights would own the conference record tiebreaker, though Cincinnati would create a three-way tie, changing the equation. It’s complicated, but a Colts loss is good for the Knights. Players go back into the locker rooms and the seconds tick down toward kickoff. Phillips and Schneider finish eating lunch just as Andrew Luck connects with Reggie Wayne for a touchdown. The Colts win, 20-13, and Phillips changes the TVs to Ravens/Giants and Bengals/Steelers. The Ravens can clinch the AFC North with a win, and the Knights need Cincinnati to lose to take the #6 seed back. Knights/Panthers kicks off, and an uneventful defensive battle takes over the first quarter. Though the game looks boring from the suite, the Knights stay positive and energetic on the sidelines. Just before the end of the first quarter, the Panthers face third and nineteen. Cam Newton drops back, avoids a blitz, and takes off. Randall has him lined up, but Newton jukes him and runs through open field, getting a first down and then some. This ends the first quarter, and Coach Harden waves over his defensive captain. “You miss that tackle again, next week of practice will be the worst of your life. Understand?” “Yes, sir.” The Knights reach the red zone, down 14-6 in the second quarter. Officials call timeout for an injured Panther, so Phillips looks up. Eli Manning hits Domenik Hixon for a thirteen-yard touchdown, and the Giants take the lead over Baltimore, 14-10. Phillips and Schneider celebrate. A Ravens loss increases the Knights playoff chances for week 17, though their best option is a Bengals loss, which would put them in a win-and-in situation next week. Cincinnati has jumped out to a 10-0 lead against Pittsburgh. Play resumes and Maverick hits Bishop over the middle for an easy touchdown. Phillips and Schneider celebrate again. 14-13, Panthers. A few minutes later, a creative blitz leads to a sack on Newton, an embarrassing fifteen-yard loss. Phillips looks at Schneider, wondering how seriously he is considering a new defensive coordinator. The Knights take over and operate the two-minute offense. “Dammit!” Schneider says. Phillips looks at one of the TVs. Ray Rice celebrates a touchdown catch, and the Ravens recapture the lead, 17-14. The Knights run out of time and jog into the tunnel down a point. “Another underwhelming performance against a bad team,” Schneider says. “Only down one,” Phillips says. “I’ll take it. Hey! There’s some good news.” They both look up; the Steelers celebrate a touchdown, cutting their deficit to 10-7 just before halftime. In the locker room, Knights coaches search for adjustments, feeling the game is within reach. “I think we’ve gotten away from the run game,” Everett says. “You’re right,” Daniel says. “We’ll take the pressure off Mav a bit.” “That won’t matter if they keep dropping first downs.” “One problem at a time, Tom.” Harden considers some changes from his subordinates and, as usual, dismisses them. “We’re not backing off the blitz,” he insists. “We can get pressure with four, coach.” “Not good enough. I want Newton running for his life. With luck, he’ll be hurt by the fourth quarter.” Before the team takes the field for the second half, Daniel gathers everyone for his quick pep talk. “This is a playoff game, gentlemen. We’ve been saying it all week. We can’t control what happens elsewhere, but we can make sure we’re still alive next week. I need everything you have for this second half. Let’s show the league who the Knights are.” Quick strikes by both teams, including a seventy-six yard touchdown to Steve Smith, result in a 24-16 Panther lead. The Knights reach the five-yard line as the third quarter ticks down. Daniel chooses his second and goal call carefully. Maverick drops back and scans the field. Against zone coverage, the windows are too tight. He looks to Jaxson in the flat, but pass rush takes away the throw. He rolls out and throws it out of the back of the end zone. “Not sure we can settle for three again, coach,” Everett says. “I agree. Run to set up fourth, or a screen?” “I’d say screen.” Daniel calls a screen pass to Jaxson, and Maverick lines up. The Panthers show blitz but back off on a hard count. Maverick calls an audible, changing the play entirely. The Knights sideline watches nervously as the play clock runs down. Maverick takes the snap and looks to Wilkes on a curl route—covered. He rolls left and Johnson breaks on his route. Maverick fires to the corner. Johnson catches it against tight coverage and plants both feet down. Touchdown, Knights. The sideline celebrates, as does the two-man luxury suite. Schneider stops when he sees the field goal unit coming on. “Shouldn’t we go for two here?” he asks. “Daniel’s always believed in the extra point in the third quarter,” Phillips says. “Plenty of time to score again.” Janikowski’s kick sails through. 24-23, Panthers. “God damn it,” Schneider says. A goal line QB sneak by Joe Flacco puts the Ravens up 27-14. “Looks like it’s on Pittsburgh. It’s on commercial; what was the score?” “Tied, 10-10, last I saw.” Daylight fades in Charlotte as the four o’ clock games go down to the wire. A frustrating fourth quarter has left the Knights down 31-23. The Ravens have pulled away and have a 33-14 lead. The Bengals and Steelers are tied 10-10 with Pittsburgh driving. From above, Phillips is too nervous to take notes. He and Schneider cheer on their team like any other fan. The Knights operate the no-huddle with 5:23 left. They still have plenty of time, but Daniel wants to preserve as much clock as possible in case the two-point attempt fails. Maverick hits open receivers for short gains, moving the chains but taking time. Everyone on the sideline watches intently. Maverick looks deep to Wilkes and bombs it, but the pass sails out of bounds. Phillips and Schneider watch the replay on the nearest TV. “Shit, he had him if he doesn’t throw it away,” Phillips says. “Ah, shit.” On the next screen, a Steelers field goal attempt sails wide right, and the Bengals take over, the game still tied, 10-10. Maverick miraculously avoids a blitz and takes off. He crosses midfield and slides down at the Carolina forty-five. He hurries and sets the formation, calling Daniel’s play call. He takes the snap and sees an outside blitz. Unable to roll either direction, he steps up and fires over the middle to Bishop, who leaps for it. Charles Godfrey comes out of nowhere for the interception. The Knights offensive line tries to chase him down, but Godfrey is too fast, and reaches the end zone. 38-23, Panthers. While most of the stadium rocks, a stinging silence of defeat settles over the Knights sideline. The same silence fills Phillips and Schneider’s suite; they can hear celebration in the adjacent suites. It’s in the miracle stage now, though all is not yet lost. They monitor Cincinnati’s potential game-winning drive as the Knights get the ball back. Three incompletions later, it’s fourth and ten, and the Knights punt. “Punt?” Schneider exclaims. “Our season’s on the line!” “It’s the right call, Wayne. Can’t do it this deep in our own territory. The defense has suffocated the run game all day. We’ll get it back.” On the sidelines, Harden calls his most aggressive run blitz. The team needs the ball back, but a fumble is ideal. The Panthers feed DeAngelo Williams the ball and he runs wild through wide-open holes. The Knights miss tackles left and right. Harden keeps the blitzes coming, in disbelief. His defense has forgotten how to tackle—how to play football altogether. Daniel watches helplessly as the Panthers, only wanting to run the clock out, run down the field with ease. Williams soon caps off the drive with an electric run, and the Panthers lead, 45-23. Daniel sees the expressions on his players’ faces and understands a grim reality: they’ve quit. The team has given up. Even worse, there’s nothing he can do about it at this point. Phillips and Schneider watch in disgust as another futile no-huddle offense leads to another punt. Carolina runs more clock, but Phillips and Schneider focus more on the Bengals, now in field goal range with little time left. Josh Brown soon comes out for a forty-three yard attempt. The game in front of them officially ends, 45-23, though neither man looks down onto the field. Brown’s kick wobbles but splits the uprights. Bengals win, 13-10. Schneider looks down from the TV screen, then slowly turns around to face his general manager. “Does that mean…” “We’re out,” Phillips says, his throat dry. “That was the worst-case scenario. We can only tie Cincinnati record-wise, but they win the tiebreaker regardless. We’re done.” News of Cincinnati’s victory spreads through the silent locker room by word of mouth, so Daniel doesn’t need to give any speeches. Players undress taking in the news that their season is over. Everything feels numb, the players feeling only surprise at the way this season has turned out, immune to the disappointment of their collapse—for now. After the media comes and goes, players board the bus for the airport, and are soon flying through darkness back to Los Angeles. The entire flight goes by without conversation, save for a few words exchanged by Maverick and Penner. “Remember when we were 7-2?” Maverick asks. “Nope,” Penner says. Merle Harden drives to team headquarters sipping one last Monday morning iced coffee. Though still sick from yesterday’s defeat, he focuses on figuring out how to best word things to his colleagues. Just get to the point, he tells himself. “I’ve decided to hang it up,” he says aloud to himself. No, that doesn’t sound right. “I’ve decided to retire.” Maybe a little too direct. “I’ve decided it’s best if I retire after this season. Next Sunday will be my last game.” That sounds better, though any small satisfaction about finding the right words is overshadowed by the shock that this day has finally come. He arrives at headquarters, parks, and heads for the entrance. The parking lot seems empty, which is good. He doesn’t want to make a spectacle out of this. Chance Phillips arrives too, parking his car in its designated spot. “Morning, Mr. Phillips,” Harden says. “Good morning, coach.” Harden enters the facility with Phillips several steps behind and heads straight for the head coach’s office, the door open. Daniel stands next to his desk, apparently aligning a poster on the wall. “Coach,” Harden says, “we need to talk. I’ve decided something.” “Sorry, Merle,” Daniel says. “I can’t help you.” “You can’t—what? Look, coach, I need to get something off my chest.” “What’s going on?” Phillips says, joining the two. “My apologies, Merle,” Daniel says, lifting the poster and placing it on his desk. “I can’t help because I’m not the coach anymore.”

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Twenty-Four – Players Only Fridays are usually the last practice before Sunday’s game, occasionally the team’s last day in town before a Saturday flight. This particular Friday, the players are off while the coaching staff and upper management have the day to think about last night’s game and its implications. Just three weeks ago, the Knights were 7-2 and playoff bound. They have since fallen to 8-5, most likely left fighting for a Wild Card spot. The weekend ahead will solidify the details of the Knights’ playoff hopes. In the meantime, Chance Phillips prepares for what is sure to be a nerve-wracking month. Meetings proceed at headquarters as usual, but Phillips senses tension in the air. This is certainly not how he imagined his team’s first playoff push under his reign as general manager. The day gets worse when news breaks of Sean Brock’s arrest the previous night for driving under the influence and possession of marijuana. Consequences from Brock will not necessarily be immediate; the league’s policy against such things is firm, but they always let the legal process to run its course first. If Brock receives a suspension, it likely won’t be until the beginning of next season. In between film sessions, Phillips and Wayne Schneider meet with Coach Daniel to discuss the incident. “Can we expect any action from you, coach?” Schneider asks. “Not in this case, I don’t think,” Daniel says. “I’ll obviously be speaking with Sean as soon as I get the chance, and Coach Harden will as well, but as far as punitive action, the league’s stance on marijuana is pretty firm. I don’t want to step on their toes.” “So we can count on him playing the rest of this season, and not being benched?” Phillips says. “I would say so. But, again, it depends how our conversation goes. Now, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I have some more film to watch.” Daniel heads for the film room as Schneider and Phillips enter the elevator. “That’s not like him, is it?” Schneider says. “He was always tough about off-the-field conduct. I hope the last few weeks aren’t weighing on him.” “He’s fine, and we’ll be fine,” Phillips says. “Despite whatever’s happened recently, 8-5 is a good record.” “Yes, it is. And the schedule the rest of the way is favorable.” Phillips agrees. The Knights’ final three games include the Chiefs (3-10), Panthers (4-9), and Chargers (4-9). By Sunday night, week 14 is mostly over, and the Knights’ path to the playoffs is clearly mapped. Thanks to Dallas’ 20-19 victory over Cincinnati, they still control their own destiny. All four division leaders in the AFC (New England, Baltimore, Houston, Denver) have at least a two-game lead. Assuming all four win their respective divisions, four other teams will battle for the two Wild Card positions. Indianapolis leads the way at 9-4, followed by Los Angeles at 8-5, and both Cincinnati and Pittsburgh are 7-6. The problem from that group is Cincinnati, with whom the Knights would lose the head-to-head tiebreaker. The Knights own the head-to-head tiebreaker over Pittsburgh and the conference record tiebreaker over Indianapolis. Cincinnati plays Philadelphia this Thursday night. If they lose and the Knights beat Kansas City, the Knights could clinch a playoff spot with a win in week 16. As Briggs Randall watches the Packers beat the Lions on Sunday Night Football, he finds a rarely used number on his phone. “Hello?” “Mav, it’s Briggs.” “What’s up?” “You watching the game?” “Yeah, I was. Just hanging out, having a few drinks. Why?” “It’s about the team. You’ve felt things getting a little weird the last few weeks, right?” “That’s what happens when you lose.” “I know, I know. What I’m saying is…we’re the captains. I think we should do something about it.” Monday morning, usually a working day for coaches only, players arrive for a light round of practice followed by film review and meetings, extra preparation courtesy of playing on Thursday night instead of Sunday. As the coaches head for the locker room, Coach Daniel stops them. “Slight change of plans, gentlemen,” he says. “We’re headed to the film room.” “Coach, we already looked at everything,” Everett says. “I know that, but practice won’t be starting just yet.” “What’s going on, coach?” Harden asks. “The players are in the locker room by themselves. Maverick and Randall informed me they wanted some time before we start practice. So we’ll look at film until they’re done.” A few coaches raise mild objections, so Daniel adds, “The players have taken it upon themselves to make sure they are fully focused and prepared for this week’s game. I suggest we do the same.” This gets the coaches walking toward the film room. Daniel follows, trying not to let his concern show. He has suspected things breaking down with his players recently—and the past few games show it—but what does it say that they felt a few minutes by themselves was necessary? He likes that they’ve taken initiative, but he’s uncomfortable admitting he was unable to solve the problem himself. Fifty-two Knights occupy the locker room dressed for conversation, not football, their pads either beside them or in their lockers. The captains stand in the middle. “Okay guys,” Randall says. “Mav and I wanted to get some stuff out there, talk about what’s going on the last few weeks.” He looks at Maverick, who displays no desire to take over, so he continues. “The last month, we haven’t been playing our best football. And we all know we’re a better team than this. If we want to make the playoffs, we need to figure out why we haven’t been ourselves.” Randall looks around; everyone stares at him with blank faces. “Okay, so, who wants to go first?” Speculation turns into educated guesses that turn into confirmed reports that Knights players are holding a players-only meeting, citing “sources within the organization.” The news hits Twitter and causes a chain reaction among Knights fans, creating more questions (and concerns) than answers. A players-only meeting for an 8-5 team currently in the playoffs? What does it say about the team’s leadership that they deemed this a priority? Are the players panicking? Knights fans have obviously been disappointed by the team’s recent skid and grown nervous about their playoff chances, but a players-only meeting doesn’t seem the best way to solve their problems. Adam Javad takes notice of fan reaction and sends Phillips a text. He keeps it brief, per their arrangement: “Anything re players meeting?” Javad passes time by interacting with fans on Twitter and writing his Knights/Chiefs preview. Phillips never replies. “I think what Briggs means,” Logan Bishop says, “is we need to get back to how we felt during the first half of the season. Back to how we were playing.” “Right,” Randall says, “that’s pretty much what I’m getting at.” Bishop nods, satisfied they found some clarity. He doesn’t want any tension in the building or on the field, so he was happy Maverick and Randall called this meeting. Personally, however, his mind is elsewhere. “Something we should all realize,” Chet Ripka says, “is that every season has ups and downs, for every team. I think back to our best years in Chicago, and there were plenty of times we wanted to beat each other up, no matter how good our record was.” As Ripka goes on, Bishop drowns him out, pondering the decision that has weighed on his mind the last twenty-four hours. After continued negotiation, the Knights have put a contract offer on the table: five years, twenty-four million. It would lock Bishop under contract through the 2017 season, make him a free agent just after his 32nd birthday (not terribly old for a tight end), and guarantee him ten million dollars. “So we don’t have time to worry about anything but ourselves,” Ripka concludes. “Hold up,” Malik Rose says. “Aren’t you responsible for some of that circus, old man?” As usual, Rose is half joking but being more offensive than intended. “Unfortunately, yes,” Ripka says. “Guys, I apologize for any distractions my situation has caused, but I’ve put it behind me. And everyone else needs to too.” Ripka wishes he could tell his teammates the whole story about his concussion, but it’s not the right time. Across the room, Jerome Jaxson ponders what sort of circus it would create if news of his relationship with Rachel hit the media. He decides it’s best not to say anything. “Malik,” Randall says, “anything else you want to say?” Rose: “Man, I’ve been playing great. You guys can speak for yourselves.” Randall: “That’s helpful.” Rose: “What’d you say?” He rises from his seat. “Sit down, Malik,” Brian Penner says. “Briggs is right. We don’t need any divas right now. This is about the team.” “Go ahead, Brian,” Randall says, wanting him to keep going. Penner hesitates, not wanting any part of the spotlight. “No offense, guys, but I don’t think we need this shit. In football, you take your anger out on the other team, not each other. If we need to play better, then let’s play better. Man the fuck up, bitches.” Next to Penner, Chase Grodd sits timidly. He hasn’t found an opportune moment to speak so far, and as a rookie, he’s not sure he should speak at all. But what Penner said makes a lot of sense, so he nods in agreement. A few other players do as well, and Rose sits back down. “Anything else?” Zack Grantzinger says. Randall: “Hold up. I want to make sure we’re all on the same page and that everybody has said what they want to.” Grantzinger: “And we’ve heard what Brian and Chet think. Let’s get down to business and move on. I think we should respect the opinions of the guys who have been here before.” Randall: “I agree.” Grantzinger: “Yet you keep going on like we need to talk about something else.” Randall stares down his teammate and fellow linebacker. He can’t stand poor chemistry on a football team, thus the need for this meeting, and Zack calling him out like that doesn’t help. Why can’t he just shut the fuck up about it? “Let’s just beat KC, guys,” Marlon Martin says. “Let’s just get the win and breathe easier.” “Thank you, Marlon,” Randall says. He looks a few lockers down and sees an opportunity for humor, hoping to lighten the mood. “Sean, anything else from the sack exchange?” Brock, however, hasn’t been in the mood for humor since his arrest. Everything is fucked up now, including and especially his new contract. He doesn’t even want to think about what will happen this offseason. After a few seconds of silence with his head down, it becomes clear he doesn’t have anything to say. “Hey,” Flash Johnson says, “whatever happened to that sack contest?” Brock: “I don’t care about it anymore.” Grantzinger: “Oh, stop being a pussy, Sean.” Penner: “Well, I think I’ve had enough of this bullshit.” He grabs his pads. “I’ll see you all on the practice field.” “Oh!” Jefferspin-Wilkes says. “Just gonna walk out? Who’s the diva now?” Penner struts toward Wilkes, pointing at him. “Don’t you ever fucking call me a diva again!” Wilkes rises to defend himself, and a crowd gathers. Things calm down within seconds, though everyone has risen from their seats. “Jesus, I’m sorry,” Wilkes says in a sarcastic tone as the team sits back down. “Chill out, Penner. And hey, this is supposed to be players only, not defense only. Mav, aren’t you supposed to be captain too?” Maverick: “What are you saying, D-Jam?” Wilkes: “You know where I stand on this subject. Look, let’s get down to X’s and O’s. I’ve been telling you—” Maverick: “Fuck, I know! I’m sick of hearing it.” Wilkes: “No, listen! You all saw the Ravens game. You all saw what I can do. But it ain’t just that. If other team knows they have to double me, then you got Alex and Logan in single coverage. And between those two, I guarantee one of them is open.” Bishop snaps out of his daze, stunned at Wilkes’ compliment. He feels a surge of appreciation for his teammate, suddenly sorry he ever said anything to Phillips. “Hold up, Mav,” Sam Luck says. “I think every player feels that way at one point or another. We all want to be the one making plays.” Maverick: “You don’t understand. I hear this shit every damn day.” “I have a suggestion,” Alex Johnson says, raising his hand. “The last few weeks, I feel like—and maybe this is something we can tell the coaches—the passing plays have been a little too simple. Mav, you know me, whenever we run post-corners and option routes—” Maverick: “Oh, I get it. It’s all my fault, right?” Johnson: “No, no. You hit me in stride on those routes is what I’m saying.” Wilkes: “To be fair, Mav, you’ve thrown your fair share of interceptions this year.” Maverick: “Fuck you, D-Jam.” Johnson: “No! I didn’t mean to—” Maverick: “Enough!” He slams his helmet against the ground, sighs, and calms down. “Actually, you’re right. I’ve thrown a lot of picks. I stick to my belief that some of them are due to poor play calling or route running [Wilkes shoots him a nasty glare], but most are on me. And I take responsibility for that; I’m the quarterback. And guess what? I’m gonna throw a lot more throughout my career. We’re all gonna make mistakes. That’s football. So let’s not act like we can flip a switch and play perfect football. Jerome, you’re gonna fumble again sometime. Logan, you’re gonna drop a pass. Brian, you’ll get called for illegal hands to the face again sometime soon—” Penner: “How about right now?” Maverick “—and that’s okay. Let’s just make sure we minimize our mistakes and execute. It’s like coach says: focus on your job, one play at a time.” Surprised at his own command, Maverick surveys the locker room; everyone looks satisfied. Randall notices too. Randall: “Well said, Mav. And now, I think, might be a good time to get out there and practice.” A few teammates grab their pads and start dressing. “Unless anybody has anything else to add?” Rose: “Actually, I do.” Everyone looks at the team’s number one cornerback. “I wasn’t sure when I would let y’all know, but now seems a good time. Eva and I are expecting another baby.” The locker room erupts in cheers and congratulations as Rose is mobbed by his teammates. The celebration dies down, but players take the energy with them to the practice field. Maverick and Randall find their head coach, with whom they speak privately. “We’re ready, coach,” Randall says. “Okay,” Daniel says. “Anything I need to know?” “No, sir.” “Then let’s go practice.” Practice week commences, and coaches notice an invigorated sense of renewal to the players. Daniel decides the meeting was ultimately productive—whatever was said during it. Players face plenty of questions from the media on Wednesday about Monday’s players-only meeting, which they dismiss. “It wasn’t a meeting,” Randall says. “It was just us, as a team, sitting down for ten minutes.” Randall’s deflection eases worries for some fans but falls on deaf ears of others. Thursday night, courtesy of a dreadful performance by Philadelphia that leads Eagles fans to chant for Andy Reid’s head, the Bengals win and advance to 8-6. The Knights can still clinch a playoff spot by winning out, but not until week 17. Farmers Field gears up for the team’s final home game of 2012. The Knights seem to be in a tailspin, but they’re 5-2 at home, and the lowly Chiefs are far from Arrowhead; they’re not about to sweep the Knights. From his corner seats, Jay Cooper drinks from his flask to sooth the disappointment that security confiscated his “TRAIL OF TEARS” sign, which he was hoping would be an annual staple of Knights/Chiefs games. The Knights come out confident and composed. Balanced play calling and accurate passing leads them down the field in a hurry, and Maverick caps the drive with a perfectly thrown back-shoulder fade to Wilkes. 7-0, Knights. “That’s how we do it, boys!” Maverick says on the sideline, high-fiving his offensive teammates. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it for four quarters and we’re winners.” The Chiefs respond with an effective run game, Jamaal Charles breaking enough tackles to move the chains himself. Matt Cassel plays surprisingly well, and the Chiefs reach field goal range, where the drive stalls, and Ryan Succop kicks a forty-four yarder. 7-3, Knights. The Knights offense moves the ball the rest of the first half, avoiding three-and-outs. Drives stall, however, due to untimely penalties and mental errors. Small levels of panic creep into Knights fans’ minds as the same mistakes keep the Knights from dominating. Defensively, Harden stacks the box enough to keep Charles at bay, and the Chiefs offense is too inconsistent to reach Knights territory again. With less than a minute before halftime, the Knights drive into Chiefs territory holding a 10-3 lead. Maverick takes a snap from shotgun and looks downfield. He gets blindsided, and the ball comes loose. Justin Houston scoops it up and takes off. Jaxson manages to catch him, but not before he reaches field goal range. On the sidelines, Maverick calmly works with the offensive line to figure out what happened. Penner takes responsibility for a miscommunication while the Chiefs add a field goal. 10-6, Knights at halftime. As players head for the locker room, Maverick catches up with Randall. “Hey, Briggs, that one’s on me. Thanks for bailing me out.” “Don’t sweat it, brother. Just keep throwing to the guys in black jerseys and we got this one.” During halftime, Coach Daniel refrains from repeating the same old message, instead focusing on scheme adjustments and trying to be as inspiring as possible. “I can feel this one, gentlemen,” he says. “Don’t forget, this could be our last game this season in front of our fans. Let’s give them something to remember.” The Chiefs start the second half by going three and out. The Knights get the ball back and take advantage of the good field position, reaching the red zone quickly. Two quick incompletions later, Daniel calls a receiver screen on third and ten. Wilkes catches the pass and is tackled immediately. Janikowski comes on for a short field goal. 13-6, Knights. The offense has little time to discuss on the sidelines, as they get the ball back quickly. They reach the red zone again, this time at the six-yard-line for first and goal. McFadden gets two yards on first down. Jaxson takes a toss on second down and dives for the pylon but comes up a yard short. Maverick lines up under center for third and goal. He fakes a handoff to Jaxson and rolls left. Bishop runs his route but is perfectly covered. Nowhere to go, Maverick throws the ball out of the back of the end zone. The crowd entices Daniel to go for it. Maverick looks back, hoping for a play call, but Daniel sends out the field goal unit, receives a round of boos, and Janikowski nails the chip shot. 16-6, Knights. One of the loudest booers, Cooper is nervous and unsatisfied. “Gotta go for it there, coach!” he screams. “Grow a pair of fucking testicles! You cannot lose this game!” Harden happily maintains the same strategy, adjusting nothing. The Chiefs get a few first downs, but a two-yard loss on first down dooms them, and they punt again, this time pinning Los Angeles deep in their own territory. The Knights move the chains again, continuing to display effectiveness on offense. Kansas City’s meager defensive line gets dominated at the point of attack, paving the way for a big day from Jaxson. The Knights march methodically down the field and reach the red zone near the end of the third quarter. A ten-yard reception by Bishop puts them on the eight. First and goal. Maverick fakes a toss to Jaxson and looks left to Johnson. He lofts a pass to the corner of the end zone and watches in horror as the double-covered Johnson tries helplessly to deflect the pass. Eric Berry catches it with ease, and Johnson brings him down for a touchback. Maverick sulks back to the sideline as the third quarter ends. As Maverick receives encouragement from his teammates, Harden’s defense breaks down. Cassel miraculously finds receivers open on deep routes, and in a blink, he hits Dwayne Bowe for a thirty-yard touchdown. 16-13, Knights. “Don’t you go collapsing on me, men,” Harden says to his defense. “You own this fucking team. You shouldn’t be giving up a goddamn yard.” When the Chiefs get the ball again, Harden sticks to his strategy. If the players execute, it will work. It seems to, as Charles is bottled up on first and second down. Cassel dumps it off to Charles on third down for a screen. Blocking develops in front of him, and he gets a first down. He cuts back to the middle of the field, and four missed tackles later, reaches the end zone. 20-16, Chiefs. Too shocked to scream at players, Harden looks at the scoreboard in disbelief. He snaps out of it, seeing Daniel stare him down. “We’ll fix it, coach. I’ve been holding off on adjustments until now. We’ll shake it up.” The Knights line up from their own thirty-nine, third and eight, 6:03 to go. Maverick takes the snap and drops back. Behind a clean pocket, he sees nothing but covered receivers. He steps up and bombs it to Wilkes, single-covered deep. He leaps for the pass but can’t corral it. Fourth down. Maverick jogs off the field—he sees Daniel signal him back out, calling a play call. “Coach,” Everett says. “All due respect, I don’t think now is the—” “We can do it,” Daniel says. “A first down here, and we get our confidence back. A first down here, and we win.” Maverick lines up from shotgun as the Chiefs defense scurries to position against the bold play call. Seeing their panic, Maverick hurries the snap. He looks to Wilkes—covered. Johnson—covered. He feels pressure around him and steps up into more pressure. Panicked, he fires to Bishop, open over the middle. Bishop catches it and gets brought down a clear two yards behind the first down marker. The officials signal turnover on downs immediately, and the Knights offense walks off the field to a furious round of boos. After using all timeouts and failing to stop Jamaal Charles, the Knights try to block a thirty-five-yard Succop field goal. The kick sails above their hands and through. 23-16, Chiefs, 0:29 to go. The air has been sucked out of the stadium, though most fans stay seated, desperately clinging to irrational hope that the Knights have something left. On the sideline, Daniel and Everett prep their quarterback for the final drive. “Well,” Daniel says, “if you’ve got a miracle left in you, now’s the time to use it.” “If it can be done, we’ll do it, coach.” After a touchback, the Knights take over. The Chiefs play prevent, so Maverick throws a couple short sideline routes. This gets the Knights to midfield with 0:08 left. “This is it,” Daniel radios to Maverick. “Roll out and bomb it, Mav.” Maverick takes the shotgun snap as all the receivers run deep. Every fan in the stadium stands. Maverick rolls right, escaping the three-man rush. He steps up and launches the Hail Mary into the air. Players from both teams try to get under the pass in the end zone. Everyone leaps at once, and Wilkes gets his hands on the ball. Fans cheer for a miracle catch. Wilkes comes down to the grass in the end zone, gets hit, and the ball falls to the ground. The Chiefs celebrate as the officials signal incomplete. Chiefs win, 23-16. Many fans boo again, some are too defeated to muster the energy, but Cooper gets another idea. “Fuck this.” He strips his clothes as fast as he can. Nearby fans look on in disgust as the naked Cooper jumps over the railing, punches the nearest security guard in the jaw, and runs out onto the field. Cooper soon gets everyone’s attention, the departing fans turning around for some comic relief. Security tries to track him down, but he evades them, his testicles flailing about as he jukes left and right. Finally, Marlon Martin comes out of nowhere and pummels him to the ground. Out of breath and winded from the hit, he manages to scream, “That’s the best job of tackling I’ve seen all day, you fucking bums!” A meeting room in team headquarters lights, a rare occasion for Sunday night. Men in expensive suits occupy the long table, with the team’s owner at the head. Beyond personnel decisions, many figures control NFL teams. Owner, president, CEO, chairman of the board, stockholders, etc. Every NFL franchise is a business, and every business has a powerful group of people in charge of it. Tonight, the Los Angeles Knights owner and chairman of the board has assembled them all. “Gentlemen,” Wayne Schneider says, “thank you for coming. I know this is short notice, but I believe we need to start this conversation as early as possible.” “What’s going on, Wayne?” “Unfortunately, I don’t think I need to spell out the details. After starting 7-2, we’ve lost four of our last five, currently out of the playoffs, if they started tomorrow. I could go on and on, of course, but this is obviously unacceptable. So we need to decide what to do about it.” “Meaning what, exactly?” “We will consider all options, as always. And at this time, I’m afraid that means we must seriously consider firing head coach Caden Daniel.”

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Twenty-Three – The Beginning or the End Caden Daniel enters team headquarters Monday morning more apprehensive than he has been all year. After a dream start to the season, the Knights have endured a nightmarish few weeks: back-to-back crushing losses and the ongoing concussion drama, just as excitement starts building for the playoffs. He can no longer pretend his team isn’t dealing with distractions; he needs to address them. His mantra for the week will be refocusing the team to football, and football only. No one can think of where the team stands in the division or any other playoff implications; the goal is to win Sunday’s game. Fortunately, the Knights have a favorable matchup with the 3-8 Browns that kicks off three consecutive games at home. Daniel and his offensive staff deliberately craft a simple game plan, an old trick he learned at UConn. When the team is struggling, simplify things, make it easier to get them back on track. Cleveland’s defense has a talented secondary but a mediocre front seven; the Knights should have no trouble establishing the run, and when they’ve done that this season, they’ve won. When Merle Harden hears Daniel’s Monday morning pep talk about “redirecting focus” and “simplifying philosophy,” he brushes it off. His defensive strategy will never change based on how his team is playing. He picks the game plan that gives his team the best chance to win, plain and simple. For this week, Harden relishes a challenge, up against Cleveland’s formidable offensive line. Then again, playing against a quarterback like Brandon Weeden probably doesn’t come to close to qualifying as a challenge. When players arrive on Tuesday and hit the practice field, Daniel likes what he sees. They seem focused and respond well to the “simplify” concept. As the week progresses, media heat for the Ripka concussion story fades, and the team focuses on the Browns. Saturday, the calendar turns to December. Sunday arrives, and it immediately becomes apparent something is wrong. The Knights miss simple blocking assignments, which suffocates the run game. Maverick can’t find open receivers on third and long. The offense doesn’t get a first down until the end of the first quarter. The Knights defense stymies Cleveland’s pass game with Harden’s usual blitzes, but they give up inexplicable long plays, often on third down. One such play results from a miscommunication and sets up a forty-two yard field goal. 3-0, Browns. Maverick finally connects with some receivers downfield, and the Knights string together a quality drive. It stalls, however, when Jaxson fumbles a hand-off. The Knights settle for a thirty-seven yard field goal. Tie game, 3-3. After the Browns go three and out, the Knights take over with good field position and finally get the run game going. In the red zone, Maverick misses consecutive open receivers, and Janikowski hits one again. 6-3, Knights. The Knights give up a few first downs, then Brandon Weeden throws into double coverage, and Flash takes it the other way to midfield. The Knights respond with a deep shot downfield, which Maverick underthrows and T.J. Ward picks off. Neither offense musters anything productive the rest of the second quarter, and the Knights hear boos from their home fans as they head into the locker room. Taking advantage of recent headlines, Jay Cooper proudly shows his “MAVERICK HAS A CONCUSSION” sign. In the locker room at halftime, Coach Daniel faces a problem: what he wants to say to his team—keep your focus, one play at a time, etc.—he’s been saying all week. He can only send the same message for so long until the onus falls on his players to execute. The Browns get the ball to start the second half. On the first play from scrimmage, Harden sends an all-out blitz; a communication breakdown leads to a wide-open Greg Little, whom Weeden hits in stride. 10-6, Browns. The Knights respond with a balanced drive that Maverick caps with a beautiful forty-yard touchdown to Alex Johnson. 13-10, Knights. Both defenses take over from there, and just before the fourth quarter, Daniel realizes the problem: the team plays with no intensity, no drive. He and his assistant coaches do their best to get them fired up, but it doesn’t work. Into the fourth quarter, a few terrible penalties by Cleveland’s defense leads to another Janikowski field goal. 16-10, Knights. The minutes tick down with neither offense able to sustain any consistency. The Knights pile on more mental errors, tallying ten penalties for over a hundred yards. A Jefferspin-Wilkes fumble—the Knights’ third turnover of the day—gives the Browns the ball back with less than two minutes left. Weeden miraculously leads his team into field goal range, then lofts an egregious pass towards the end zone, which Ripka intercepts. He goes down on the three-yard line, and the Knights win, 16-10. As the victors head to the locker room, they hear another light round of boos. Daniel empathizes with them, and he fails to crack a smile as he shakes hands with Coach Shurmur. A reporter finds him immediately and readies for the on-field interview, which Daniel never rejects. Now, however, he finds himself questioning that philosophy. “Coach, how important was it for this team to get a win here today after losing the last two games?” “Well, every win is important, obviously. We have some things we need to clean up, but it’s always good to end the game with more points than the other team.” “Coach, talk about the mistakes, the penalties, the turnovers. What’s going on right now?” Daniel maintains his composure with a camera in his face. “As I said, we’ve got to clean up a few things, and you said it: penalties and turnovers. That’s not Knights football and we need to fix it.” “Thanks, Caden.” “Thank you.” Daniel marches to the tunnel, that interview having used up the extent of his control. The players will not enjoy that luxury. He finds the locker room mostly quiet, as it should be, though a few players and coaches carry out conversations. Nobody seems to notice Daniel’s presence. He spots a large container of Gatorade, picks it up, and heaves it across the room. It strikes the wall, the top flies off, and purple liquid spills everywhere, along with chunks of ice. The room goes dead silent. “What the hell was that?” Everyone freezes in place, and the head coach has everyone’s complete attention. “You gentlemen better be thankful we played a team that couldn’t capitalize today, because as far as I’m concerned, that was a losing performance. I am absolutely embarrassed.” The players and coaches take in the rant; Daniel has never addressed the team like this. “What’s going on, gentlemen? It’s like we’ve forgotten how to play football. Simple plays we’ve run all year, all of a sudden we can’t execute. Well?” He looks around. “No one’s got anything to say?” Nothing. “Fine then. We’re playing bad football and we don’t have any answers. Even worse, we have a short week for Thursday night.” Another pause. “Every football season has adversity. We just happened to have an awful lot of it these last few weeks. We are being tested, gentlemen. This will either be the beginning or the end of us. We’ll find out this week.” Hours later, the usual trio of Brock, Rose, and Jaxson decides to blow off some steam and grab dinner at their favorite club. For the second consecutive trip, Wilkes and Bishop tag along. They sit at a table in the VIP room and order drinks. Brock downs his instantly. Jaxson: “Ease up, Brock. Coach said he might make us practice tomorrow, remember?” Brock: “Man, you really believe that? Day after a game?” Bishop: “We’ve got another game on Thursday, so we better make the most of whatever practice time we do have.” Rose: “Man, Logan, the whole point to us hanging out is to forget about football for a little while, not worry about it. Didn’t we tell you that last time?” The server comes back with small menus in her hand. “Here are our specials tonight, gentlemen,” she says. The players scan their options. Bishop: “What are you feeling, D-Jam?” Wilkes: “I’ll get the same thing, I guess.” Rose: “Seriously? All we heard last time was how you didn’t like it. Thought it was too salty or some shit.” Wilkes: “I’ll get whatever you get, then. Doesn’t matter to me.” Wilkes shoves the menu aside as Bishop watches carefully, having not looked at his menu yet. Monday starts a challenging week of preparation for the Knights, who host the Broncos on Thursday Night Football. Players enter the facility without the usual day off—without the time for one. Playing on Thursday instead of Sunday compresses practice week in an awkward way. Coach Daniel never puts his players through rigorous practice the day before or after a game, which leaves only Tuesday, one day of rigorous practice with light practice and lots of film sessions scheduled around it. It’s horribly inefficient, but it’s the only option they have. With four games left in the regular season, the front offices goes through its usual preparations for the offseason. Chance Phillips and his assistants consider prospective free agents in Los Angeles and elsewhere, coaches with expiring contracts, and potential draft needs (even though it’s far too early to look at prospects). This year, however, for the first time, Phillips gets to add another consideration to his schedule: playoff scenarios. At 8-4, the Knights currently qualify as the fifth seed in the AFC, over Indianapolis (also 8-4) by a better conference record. Both Pittsburgh and Cincinnati trail at 7-5, and the next closest teams are 5-7. So it looks like four teams will battle for the two Wild Card playoff spots. The Knights, however, still control their own destiny in the AFC West. A win over Denver on Thursday would tie both teams at 9-4, and the Knights would own the head-to-head tiebreaker. Being part of the playoff picture in December for the first time in exciting, especially for a post-rebuilding franchise like Los Angeles, but the events of the past few weeks have left Phillips nervous about how the season will end. The team desperately needs to regain its confidence, and a win on Thursday would be the perfect start to the season’s final stretch. Considering current division records and remaining schedules, a loss to Denver would make winning the division near impossible. The Knights would still be alive in the Wild Card race, of course, and they have head-to-head victories over Baltimore and Pittsburgh, two teams in that race. Still, chasing the division is a much happier picture; Thursday’s game will be a huge swing one way or the other. Near the end of the day, after practice ends, Phillips hears a beep from his phone. It’s his secretary. “Logan Bishop wants to see you.” Phillips finds this peculiar, as players rarely go out of their way to speak to him. He knows that Bishop wants a new contract, but even still, such discussions are always handled through a player’s agent, rarely face-to-face. “Send him in,” he says. Bishop walks through the door and Phillips shakes his hand. “Afternoon, Logan. How you doing?” “Good, sir. Thanks for seeing me.” “Yeah, no problem, I—look, I’ve been talking with your agent. I know nothing’s done yet, but I want you know we have exchanged a few numbers, so there’s progress.” “I appreciate that, Mr. Phillips, but that’s not why I’m here.” “Very well. What can I do for you?” “It’s about D-Jam.” Phillips is confused, not sure where the conversation is headed. It doesn’t feel right that Bishop is telling him about this, whatever it is. “Before you go further, is this something you should talk to Coach Daniel about first?” “Maybe, but we’re pressed with practice as it is. I think it would be best to confer with you about how to handle it.” How to handle it? This is getting more ominous by the second. “Okay then,” Phillips says. “What about Wilkes?” “I don’t think he can read.” “You don’t—what?” Phillips struggles to speak, fighting the shock of that comment. “Are you serious?” Bishop describes the Friday Night Lights situation and his recent observations at the club. “No,” Phillips says incredulously. “Surely someone would have noticed by now. Someone—” “I just thought someone should know, and I don’t think talking to him personally would help.” Phillips processes everything as best he can. How the hell is he supposed to address something like this, assuming it’s true? “I understand. Thank you, Logan, for sharing this with me; I’ll think about it and we’ll figure out the best way to handle the situation. And again, I’m in touch with your agent and confident something will get worked out soon.” “Great. Thank you.” Bishop leaves Phillips alone in his office, contemplating the most bizarre situation he has ever heard. In Pittsburgh and Los Angeles, he has seen and dealt with contract holdouts, polarizing draft prospects, and relentless front office bickering. But an NFL player who can’t read? “What the holy fuck?” he says to the empty office. Phillips only settles on one definite conclusion for now: to keep this to himself until he can figure out what the hell needs to be done. The Knights and Broncos take the field under the lights of Farmers Field for a nationally televised AFC West showdown. The NFL Network broadcast breaks down the detailed playoff picture and shows plenty of highlights from the Knights/Broncos game in week 4, the last time the Broncos lost a game. The Knights get the ball first and come out throwing. Coach Daniel knows his team, being home, has an advantage in a Thursday night game, and he wants to put Denver on its heels as soon as possible. Maverick strings together some completions, his receivers facing tight coverage, and the Knights reach midfield before an overthrown third down pass forces a punt. Peyton Manning takes the field and the crowd gets loud. This time, the Knights have their fans behind them to help fight Manning’s audibles. Manning takes snaps behind a clean pocket and finds open receivers to move the chains. Coach Harden calls plays confidently. He faces a much more polished and efficient Broncos offense than he did in September, but neither this nor the short week of practice concerns him; either his players can execute, or they can’t. Manning gets first down after first down, facing no pressure in the pocket. Harden calls an all-out blitz, and Manning hands off to Willis McGahee, who soars through open field and into the red zone. Two plays later, Manning finds Jacob Tamme in the corner of the end zone. 7-0, Broncos. Harden considers adjusting his blitz tactics, but he needs to chew a few people out first. “Brock, Grantzinger, what the fuck?” Both linebackers catch their breaths from the long drive, though they wouldn’t have answers anyway. “If you two don’t get it together fast, we are going to be severely fucked. Understand?” They nod. “Wake up!” The Knights offense operates with aggressiveness again. This time, after a few first downs, Daniel calls more running plays. The balance pays off, leading Alex Johnson to break open on play-action. Maverick hits him in stride and he runs into the end zone. Tie game, 7-7. The rest of the first quarter is a field position battle, with neither offense able to get first downs consistently. Harden’s blitz adjustments work, though Brock and Grantzinger still come up short. Denver tilts things in their favor and manages a fifty-yard Matt Prater field goal at the end of the quarter. 10-7, Broncos. The second quarter is more of the same, though the Broncos appear ready to take a two-score lead after a long completion to Demaryius Thomas puts them in the red zone. Harden only brings a three-man rush on first and ten. Manning scans the field, Knights everywhere. With an eternity to throw, he finally dumps it off to McGahee in the flat. He cuts upfield towards Marlon Martin, who goes low and hits him hard, flipping him and sending the football into the air. Randall is there to pick it up and runs the other way. He soars past offensive linemen with ease and has a clear path to the end zone. Not looking behind him, he runs out of gas and feels a hit from behind. He dives into the end zone and looks at the nearest official, who signals touchdown. The Knights line up for the extra point, but whistles blow everything dead for an official scoring review. Fans look up to the instant replay, and it looks like Randall’s knee was down with the ball at the one-yard line. Daniel finds Maverick, assuming first and goal. After a two-minute review, officials reverse the call on the field. Knights ball on the one. Maverick lines up under center in goal line formation. He fakes a handoff to Jaxson and looks for Bishop on a corner route. Von Miller slams him to the ground for a sack. The crowd boos at the misfortune; the Knights now face second and goal from the six. Maverick lines up in shotgun now, with receivers spread out. He takes the snap and looks to Wilkes on a fade, but he’s doubled. Johnson, Bishop—covered. Pressure comes up the middle, forcing him to throw it away. Third and goal. Daniel runs a bunch formation this time, with Wilkes on the outside. He receives single coverage, and Maverick has his man. He takes the snap and lofts one to the end zone. Wilkes and Champ Bailey jostle for it, both get their hands on it, and fall out of bounds. Incomplete. Daniel reluctantly sends out the field goal unit. Farmers Field unleashes a round of boos, both at the refs for not calling pass interference, and at the offense for not converting from the one-yard line. Both teams come out for the pivotal second half, the game tied 10-10. The Broncos get the ball first and Harden, frustrated that Manning hasn’t been hit yet, gets creative. Manning drops back behind a clean pocket, and Rose comes flying in off the edge. Manning falls to the grass instead of absorbing a big hit, and the Knights have their first sack of the day. Rose jogs past Brock and Grantzinger after celebrating. “Need me to play outside linebacker, bitches?” The sack leads to a Denver three and out, and the Knights get the ball back with good field position. Jaxson takes a few carries and creates a manageable third and two. Maverick fakes a toss and looks to Johnson on a curl route. He throws, but Johnson keeps running instead. Chris Harris catches the easy interception and bolts for the end zone. 17-10, Broncos. On the sideline, Maverick and Johnson try to figure out what went wrong, about to get the ball back, the only positive to come from a pick six. Jaxson gets the ball first again, finding holes in Denver’s front seven, and the Knights move the chains. Maverick drops back on first and ten, and the pocket breaks down. He breaks a few tackles and runs downfield with a lot of grass in front of him. He jukes a linebacker, cuts right—the ball gets swatted out of his hands. It bounces into a pile of Broncos, and Denver takes over at midfield. Harden calls more corner blitzes, which seem to work. The Broncos, however, manage a few first downs that take them into field goal range, where Matt Prater capitalizes. 20-10, Broncos. “Good stop, coach,” Daniel says to Harden. “We’re trying,” Harden says. “All due respect, we can only hold on a short field for so long.” “I know.” Sensing a breaking point, Daniel gathers his entire offense during the commercial break. “Everybody take a few deep breaths. We’ve still got plenty of time to win this football game. Remember what we’ve been practicing. Remember what your coaches have been telling you. Let’s get control of this thing.” After a good kick return, the Knights start at their own thirty-nine. Maverick fires a quick pass to Bishop, who gets eight yards. Second and two. Jaxson carries up the middle but gets stuffed for no gain. Third and two. Jaxson gets a toss, but the blocking breaks down. He spins off a few tackles and gets one yard. Fourth and one. Maverick looks to the sideline and Daniel nods without hesitation. Maverick calls a play and sets the formation as the crowd cheers. Under center, Maverick takes the snap and pushes forward. Behind Penner, he gets the first down with ease. The crowd cheers louder. The Knights huddle for the next play. Maverick drops back and looks to Wilkes on a slant. He throws towards the middle, but Wilkes runs a very wide route. Bailey undercuts the route with ease for another interception. He cuts back into open field with a small convoy and reaches the end zone for the dagger. 27-10, Broncos. “What the fuck, D-Jam?” Maverick screams on the sidelines, his helmet removed. “Shallow crossing route, Mav,” Wilkes says. “You threw too soon.” “My fucking ass I did! You were supposed to run a fucking slant, you idiot!” “Get out of my face.” “Oh! Don’t like teammates in your face? What happened to wanting more targets? Is this what fucking happens?” Wilkes shoves Maverick backward, which causes a stir multiple coaches have to break up. Everyone on the sideline notices, as do fans sitting in lower levels—and plenty of cameras. Sean Brock speeds down the highway, blowing by every car he sees. The 33-10 loss and his zero-sack performance have been successfully countered by a few drinks and a windows-down drive home. Besides, he’s still leading the sack contest by one. He sees red and blue in the rearview mirror. Fucking cops. He checks the speedometer, which reads somewhere around 100. Can he outrun them? Nah, it’s not worth it. Just take the speeding ticket and move on. Brock eases down and pulls over on the shoulder. How much has he had to drink? From what he can remember, only two shots and four beers, hardly anything. No way the cop notices. If he’s a football fan, it’ll be even easier. Brock sees the officer approaching and rolls down his window. “What’s up, officer?” “Step out of the car, please, sir.” “Whoa, whoa. I don’t think—” “Step out of the car, sir.” This isn’t good. Brock doesn’t like his chances to pass a sobriety test. Then he realizes something much worse: there are a few ounces of weed in the trunk. He notices the officer has opened the door for him, and he knows this can’t possibly end well.

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Twenty-Two – To Our Attention Merle finds her car on the side of the road thanks to what little sunlight peaks through the clouds. He parks behind her, approaches the driver’s side window, and taps on the glass. Trisha stirs. Merle opens the unlocked door, lugs her into the passenger seat of his car, and drives for home. “I only wanted a few drinks,” she says after a few miles, eyes closed and groggy. Merle knows that feeling all too well. “Did you have any problems before you pulled over? Do you remember?” “I don’t…I don’t...I don’t think so.” “Why didn’t you call your mother?” She doesn’t answer, and it doesn’t matter. Merle has asked that question plenty of times, and the answer has always been the same, whether Trisha admits it or not. “I could have been here sooner,” Merle says, keeping his eyes on the road, “but our damn flight got delayed. If it were a home game—” “Did you…did you win?” “Yeah. Somehow.” “Oh…okay.” “This is my fault, Trish. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, dad.” No, it’s not. Merle knows his daughter inherited this sickness from him, and he takes full responsibility for it. All he can do is keep picking her up in situations like this, making sure she’s safe, which is more than his parents ever did for him. But Trisha is twenty-three now. How much longer can this continue? “Dad, when are you…when are you leaving football?” “I’m not, Trish.” “But you always said you would. I thought maybe…maybe this year. That’d be nice.” In his sixteen years as a high school coach and eight years in college, Merle never felt pressured by the workload, never felt pressure to retire. That changed when he took the defensive coordinator job in Carolina, but it was manageable. Something is different about L.A., and Merle has felt closer and closer to retirement every season. With his contract expiring, the opportunity is certainly there. He wants to respond but can’t find the words. He notices Trisha has sunk into a comfortable looking position, apparently asleep, and the rest of the drive passes without a sound. With Thanksgiving a few weeks away, playoff talk heats up around the league. The gap between contenders and pretenders grows larger every week. Analysts look ahead to key December games and debate teams “in the hunt.” If the playoffs started today, the Knights, at 7-2, would earn the second seed and a first-round bye in the AFC. Still on a winning streak, the Broncos lurk at 6-3. The 3-6 Chargers appear to be collapsing and the 2-7 Chiefs are a non-factor, so the AFC West is a two-team race. The Knights prepare for a home game against the Saints, in the middle of an unusual season. With Sean Payton suspended from Bountygate, the Saints opened the year 0-4 but have since won four of their last five games to reach 4-5. Whatever their record, any team with Drew Brees is dangerous, and the Knights know that. Offensively, players ride the momentum from Jefferspin-Wilkes’ insane fourth quarter performance against Baltimore, which sent shockwaves through the league. Orchestrated by Penner, Maverick and Wilkes sit down Monday night and have a few beers. The details of their conversation are never spoken of to anyone else. Defensively, Harden prepares for another elite quarterback. This time, however, his defense faces a truly great offense all around, including a dominant offensive line and one of the league’s best tight ends in Jimmy Graham. Representing a new wave of athletic tight ends in the NFL, Graham is the first player of his kind the Knights face this season. To handle Graham, Harden goes against his style and complicates his strategy. The initial plan is Randall covering Graham on passing downs. If that doesn’t work, he’ll go to Flash or Rose, backup options he doesn’t care for. He wants Flash downfield covering the vertical routes Brees loves, and Rose covering a tight end doesn’t seem the best use of his talent. Randall gets some reps covering Jefferspin-Wilkes on a few basic routes that Graham typically runs. Coach Daniel doesn’t mind Wilkes losing offensive reps; he’s expecting him to receive double coverage on Sunday and open things up for everyone else. The Saints defense is one of the worst in the league, so the Knights should have no trouble exploiting it. Known for being reliable in coverage, Randall continuously gets outmuscled by Wilkes. Harden doesn’t waver; it’s only the first day of practice, and Randall is one of the most coachable players he’s ever worked with. Wednesday, Randall’s struggles continue. Harden lets Flash and Rose take turns covering Wilkes, and they seem much better, though Flash gets beat multiple times. Harden tinkers his plan as the week goes on. Friday’s practice ends, and Logan Bishop is on his way out for the day when he spots his copy of Friday Night Lights in Wilkes’ locker. “Hey,” he says to Wilkes, still taking off his pads, “did you finish it?” “What? Oh, yeah.” Wilkes grabs the book and hands it back. “It was just like the movie. I liked it.” Bishop takes the book and walks away, frustrated. Wilkes didn’t even bother reading it. So much for helping out teammates. Besides, the Baltimore game probably gave Wilkes whatever confidence he needed. Still, Bishop keeps thinking until he reaches the door, then gets an idea. He approaches Brock and Rose, who are chatting about something. “Hey,” Bishop says, “you guys hang out with D-Jam, right? At clubs?” “Sometimes,” Brock says. “Why?” “Next time, give me a heads up. I’ll join.” “Oh! L-Bish gonna go clubbing with us?” “First of all, L-Bish is terrible. Never say that again. Second, I could use some unwinding time.” “I didn’t think it sounded so bad. What about just L.B.?” “Fuck, Sean,” Rose says, “give it up. We’ll let you know, Logan.” The cheers of Saints fans sticking around to celebrate victory reaches the home team’s locker room, too silent to drown out the noise. Among them is Jay Cooper, who never leaves a game early, too stunned by the beating he just witnessed to escape his seat. Coach Daniel surveys the aftermath: everyone’s head down, no energy whatsoever. No one angrily slams their helmet against the locker. No one regretfully apologizes to their teammates for a mistake. No one delivers a “we’ll get ‘em next time” spiel. The players just let the result sink in, nothing else to do about it. This is unquestionably the most defeated Daniel has seen his players. He thought their low point was the Atlanta game, but today was far worse—outplayed and outcoached in every way, plain and simple. He replays a lot of mistakes in his head and can’t block out the final score: Saints 52, Knights 6. When the reporters come in, a crowd of microphones flocks to Randall to ask about covering Jimmy Graham. “I didn’t do my job,” Randall says. “Too many plays I got beat, especially on third down early in the game. I just didn’t execute in coverage, and that gave their offense a hot start that really set the tone for the rest of the game.” Not far away, Jonathan Maverick also draws a healthy dose of difficult questions. “Mav, what was it like to get benched and see Chad Henne out there in the fourth quarter?” “I didn’t get benched. Coach decided with the score the way it was, he didn’t want to risk anybody getting hurt. If the game were closer, I would’ve been in there. Believe that.” At his post-game press conference, Coach Daniel fields plenty of negative remarks. “Coach, the Broncos are playing the Chargers right now; if they win, you guys are tied for the division at 7-3. How does that—” “We’re not worried about that,” Daniel interjects. “We can only worry about who we play. As for Denver, however the division shakes up, we beat them once, and we have another game against them in a few weeks. So we’ll deal with them later.” Over the next few hours, Denver and San Diego play a close, back-and-forth game, but Denver wins, 30-23. They and Los Angeles are now 7-3, though the Knights own the head-to-head tiebreaker, still technically in first place. Tuesday morning, the coaches have a game plan and practice schedule (adjusted slightly for Thanksgiving) ready for Cincinnati. The players arrive, and Daniel can’t tell whether the New Orleans game still weights on their minds. He’s ready to head onto the practice field when Chance Phillips stops him. “Schneider needs to see us,” Phillips says. “Now? Chance, we’re about to start practice. I need to address the team about what happened on Sunday.” “I know, I’m sorry. He insisted it was urgent.” Adam Javad spends some time on Twitter answering fan questions. Social media exploded during and after the Saints thrashing on Sunday, and Javad does his best to correct the extreme reactions of fans and address the more logical questions. Increasing rapport with fans through social media is one of his strategies to boost his reputation, anyway. His phone vibrates with a new text from one of his league sources: “Something breaking w Knights. U know anything?” He hasn’t heard as much as a rumor, so he doesn’t respond. What could be breaking on a Tuesday morning in November? A few Knights went down with injuries Sunday, but none of them was serious; he’s double-checked. His phone vibrates again. It’s another, better-placed league source. Javad reads the text but can’t believe its contents. He goes back to Twitter and sees it update with new tweets: a few major reporters break the news. “Holy shit.” “I apologize for the short notice and the inconvenient timing,” Schneider says to Phillips and Daniel, who sit across from him in the owner’s office, “but this absolutely cannot wait. If the media doesn’t have this already, they will any minute.” Phillips feels very uneasy, though at least everyone is sitting down for whatever Schneider is about to say. “What’s going on, Wayne?” “I think it would be better if I just read the letter.” “From who?” Daniel asks. “The league office. And I quote… ‘It has come to our attention that one of your players, Chet Ripka, during a game against the Denver Broncos, may have played while suffering from a concussion. The league intends to investigate this matter fully,’ etc. It goes on, of course, but I think you get the point.” Daniel and Phillips get the point indeed. They both run scenarios in their head about how this happened and how to proceed. “Hang on a second,” Phillips says. “How could they have found out he had a concussion? He didn’t seem dazed when he came back into that game, I remember. It’s really not our fault we missed it.” Schneider: “The league would have had to hear it from somebody.” Phillips: “But only five people knew about this.” Schneider: “And three of them are in this room.” Phillips: “Where’s Dr. Evans?” Schneider: “I wanted to speak to you two before bringing him in. Now, listen, press leaks happen all the time. We all know that. But we also know that we have to use discretion in certain cases, and this is definitely—” Daniel: “I don’t think any one of us would leak that story. Too many consequences.” Schneider: “I agree. Far too many consequences.” Phillips: “Maybe Chet told one of the teammates and one of them leaked it, not knowing how damaging it would be?” Schneider: “We can try to determine that later. For now, let’s talk response.” Daniel: “What options do we have?” Phillips: “At this point, I think it’s too late to admit we missed the concussion.” Schneider: “It certainly is.” Daniel: “What if the league has proof of that already?” Schneider: “If they did, this letter would have a much different tone, I assure you. So our only option is to make sure they don’t find any proof.” Practice commences normally, albeit delayed a few minutes. During a break, Phillips pulls Ripka aside and summarizes what has happened. “Chet,” Phillips says, “did you tell anybody about this? About what really happened, I mean.” “No, sir. Not that I recall.” “What about your wife? Kids? Any chance the media picked it up from them?” “No, sir. Not in a way I can think of, anyway.” Practice concludes hours later. Before releasing players for the day, Coach Daniel briefs them on the ongoing situation and instructs them on how to handle the media: nobody says anything until weekly press conferences and locker room interviews tomorrow. As players and coaches head to their cars, they face a mob of reporters but stick to their “no comment” strategy. By Tuesday night, the concussion cover-up is the story of the league. ESPN and NFL Network show countless replays of the Demaryius Thomas touchdown from week 4 when Malik Rose’s shoulder struck Ripka’s helmet, and they point out that Ripka was listed as questionable with an ankle injury the next week, despite never showing an ankle injury during the Denver game. This feeds plenty of conspiracy theories, which leads to discussion about what consequences the Knights could face. Prominent pundits insist that, if proof of wrongdoing is found on Los Angeles’ part, they will face fines and potentially forfeit draft picks. Wednesday afternoon, all eyes focus on Coach Daniel’s weekly press conference. The first question deals with the concussion investigation. “Unfortunately, I can’t comment on that at this time,” Daniel says. “What I can tell you is the league is looking into it, and we are cooperating with them fully, essentially just letting them do their thing until a ruling is made. As long as their investigation is open, I will not make any official comment on the matter, nor will any other coaches or players.” Daniel faces plenty of other related questions anyway and deflects them all without growing frustrated—visibly, at least. Many media members are quick to point out that Daniel’s “We’ll let the league decide” response is similar to Bill Belichick’s comments after Spygate hit the headlines. By now, players have had time to think about the story, but they practice for Sunday’s game all the same. In fact, Daniel suspects the story has shifted the players’ focus just enough to make them forget about the Saints game, an ironic development. In the locker room, plenty of players ask Ripka about the incident. “I just felt a little foggy,” he says. “Had no idea it was a concussion.” “So then a few days later, an ankle injury suddenly flares up?” a teammate asks. “That’s what happens when you get old,” Ripka says, half-truthful. Thursday night, the Harden household enjoys a delicious Thanksgiving dinner, though nobody speaks much. As things wind down, Trisha excuses herself. “I’m heading out with friends,” she says. “On Thanksgiving night?” Melinda asks. Trisha doesn’t respond, walking upstairs to her room instead. Merle grabs a beer from the fridge and strolls onto the front porch. Melinda starts cleaning up by putting a few plates in the sink, stops, and joins her husband on the porch. “I’d stay on call if I were you,” she says. Merle keeps staring east at the marvelous view of the Santa Ana Mountains, his favorite part about this house. “She’ll be fine,” he says, taking another sip of beer. Melinda sits down next to him. “I still don’t understand. She picks up this sickness from her father and somehow you’re always the one she calls.” “This conversation again?” “No. Actually, I’d like to have a different one.” “Oh? Which one?” “The one about retirement.” Merle scoffs and takes a deep swig of beer. “This wouldn’t happen if you were around more, you know. Wouldn’t happen as much, at least.” “I am around.” “In the offseason.” “I’m a football coach, Melinda. It’s my job. I limit myself as much as I can, and believe me, I’m stretching it as far as possible.” “For how much longer? We’ve got enough money saved up.” Merle takes another swig and gathers the words in his head before speaking. “I know it might not seem it, but these last few years here in L.A. have been great for me. I took a bunch of young guys and turned them into something. The defense I got now—the whole team, really—they got something. I know it may not seem it based on last Sunday, but they’re going somewhere.” “What are you saying, Merle?” “I’m saying…” He takes another sip. “Well, I’ve been thinking. I got the feeling this is my last hurrah. Lead these guys to the promised land and go out a champion. Then spend some time at home.” “Do you really believe that?” Merle knows it won’t matter what he says, so he finishes the bottle and grabs another. 24-14, Knights, 1:13 to go. The Bengals line up for third and goal from the seven-yard line in a bunch formation with A.J. Green out wide; Rose stares him down. Remaining fans at Paul Brown Stadium cheer on the comeback. At the beginning of the fourth quarter, the Knights led 24-7, prompting some fans to head home early. No one considers such a thing now. Andy Dalton takes the snap and lobs it for Green. Rose sees it; they both jump at the same time and get their hands on the ball. They jostle for it and come down in the end zone. The nearest official runs in for a better view, then calls joint possession. Touchdown, Bengals. Fans cheer as loud as they have all day as Cincinnati kicks the extra point. 24-21, Knights. The Bengals only have one timeout, so an onside kick seems likely. Daniel sends out the hands team after a commercial break. Players on the Knights sideline watch nervously, a game they had won suddenly hanging in the balance. Mike Nugent jogs in, and taps the ball with his foot. It bounces along then grass, then hops into the air and towards a pile at the forty-yard line. A Knights player gets his hands on it, drops it, and a frantic lot of bodies pile on, struggling for possession near the Cincinnati sideline. Bengals players and coaches scream “Our ball!” while officials pull players away desperately, trying to reach the bottom of the pile. An official finally breaks through and delivers a ruling: Bengals ball. The stadium booms in celebration as the Knights defense trots back onto the field. Thankfully, the Bengals only have 1:04 and one timeout to work with. Harden gets ready to crank up the heat on Dalton, who has thrown two interceptions so far. Dalton takes the snap and looks to Green again as the Knights blitz. Rose has him covered. Dalton throws over the middle to Jermaine Gresham. He catches it and gets hit by Randall for a six-yard gain. Dalton hurries everyone to the line and takes the snap. Everyone’s covered. He looks deep and bombs it to Green, also covered, but the pass sails out of bounds. The clock stops at 0:39. Third and four. Dalton looks left to Andrew Hawkins, but the coverage is tight. Pressure comes off the edge. Dalton rolls out and throws it away. Fourth and four, 0:32 to go. The Knights are one stop away from a win. Harden calls an inside blitz. Dalton takes the snap from shotgun; Randall and Martin blitz, and Martin comes free. Dalton runs right helplessly. He can’t see an open receiver and heaves the ball toward the middle of the field. Mohamed Sanu spots the pass and catches it, no Knights around him. He runs until Flash brings him down at the thirty-two. Deafening cheers rock the stadium as the Bengals call timeout with 0:24 left, in field goal range. They run the ball to place it in the middle of the hashes, and Dalton spikes it with three seconds left. Daniel, not a believer in icing the kicker, refrains from calling timeout. Mike Nugent lines up for the forty-eight-yard kick and gets it away cleanly. It sails down the middle and through the uprights. Tie game, 24-24, end of regulation. Harden gathers his defense on the sidelines as the Knights offense prepares to get the ball, having won the coin toss. “I know how we feel right now,” he says. “But we haven’t lost this one yet. Hopefully the offense goes out there and wins it, but if not, we play our game. We redeem ourselves by playing Knights defense, and we win this football game.” The Knights run the ball a few times with Jaxson and get a first down. Daniel knows there’s no reason to rush things yet. Maverick fakes a toss to Jaxson and looks downfield. A lineman comes free on the rush and he jukes him, steps up, and spots Bishop over the middle. He shovels it to him—Rey Maualuga comes out of nowhere and catches it. The stadium rocks as Maualuga runs the other way until Maverick wrangles his facemask at the twelve-yard line. The personal foul gives the Bengals the ball on the six. Wasting no time, Cincinnati sends out the field goal team again for the presumable chip shot from the left hash. The snap is high. The holder corrals it, puts it down, and Nugent boots it over the hands of Knights blockers. It splits the uprights, and the Bengals win, 27-24. A final round of incredulous celebration dominates the stadium as the Knights head to the locker room as soon as possible, not sure how this one slipped away. As players ride the bus to the airport and fly home, word spreads about Denver’s victory over Kansas City—and its implications. The Knights are 7-4 and, for the first time this season, no longer in first place in the AFC West.

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Twenty-One – Exchanges and Extensions Second and seven from midfield, 6:14 left in the third quarter. The Knights line up on defense, trying to stop the Bucs from recapturing the momentum. Josh Freeman hands off to Doug Martin, who runs off-tackle right. He sees nowhere to go, heads for the edge, and Grantzinger brings him down for no gain. Farmers Field cheers as both teams get ready for a big third down. The Bucs took control early and led 10-7 after the first quarter, but Los Angeles has since recaptured the lead, 17-10, and the momentum. If not for red zone turnovers, they would have a two-score lead by now. Grantzinger and Brock both get ready to blitz as Freeman takes the snap from shotgun and drops back. Grantzinger beats the right tackle and forces Freeman left. Brock spins around the left tackle and brings Freeman down. The crowd roars for the Knights’ sixth sack today, Brock’s third. After a punt, the Knights take over backed up in their own territory, but Maverick doesn’t mind. Over the last few weeks, he has felt less and less pressure as playmakers have emerged around him. Today’s game is no exception. Jaxson goes over one hundred rushing yards, though the Bucs stack the box and force third downs. Maverick drops back and finds his go-to target, Logan Bishop, who nears a hundred receiving yards and already has a touchdown on the day. After a holding penalty and a botched hand-off that Maverick covers, the Knights face third and twenty-two. Maverick drops back and stares down Johnson on a wheel route. He seems covered, and Maverick doesn’t force it. He looks over the middle, but Gerald McCoy breaks free. Maverick runs right. A linebacker closes in as Maverick spots a black jersey open. He fires toward the sideline and takes a hit. Bishop, the open man, grabs the errant pass with both hands and plants his feet in bounds, falling onto the Bucs sideline. The refs signal first down, and Bishop jogs past Coach Schiano, fuming at a safety for blowing coverage. Bishop jogs away from Schiano’s wrath, and Maverick congratulates him on a “fucking clutch ass catch.” A few plays later, the Knights face second and goal with the third quarter ticking down. Maverick fakes a hand-off and looks for Bishop—a blitz comes up the middle. Panicked, Maverick lobs it to Bishop, who is covered. Make a play, Logan. Bishop leaps over the linebacker covering him, snags the ball, and wrangles the helpless Buc away. Mark Barron comes running in, but Bishop stiff-arms him to the grass. He runs free into the end zone for his second score of the day. 24-10, Knights. Bishop soaks in the praise from his coaches and teammates on the bench. The Knights have dominated like this before, but dominating on a personal level is a feeling Bishop has yet to experience in the NFL until today. Los Angeles maintains control of the game until Tampa Bay gets the ball back with 7:36 left, down 24-13. If the Knights are going to allow a comeback, it will start now. Freeman finds the only consistently open receiver, Mike Williams, for a first down. Malik Rose has completely shut down Vincent Jackson (just like his days as a Charger), leaving Freeman little options. The defense tightens up and forces third and four. With the stadium booming, Coach Harden sends an all-out blitz. The inside rushers get picked up. Brock gets forced to the edge but makes Freeman step up into a crowd. Grantzinger breaks through and strips the ball. Freeman dives for it, but Brock is there first, and the Knights take over. Brock and Grantzinger celebrate yet another sack. The Knights win, 31-16, and in the locker room, both pass rushers get plenty of attention from reporters. When the media leaves, Brock makes it clear the adulation isn’t over. “Up to eight now, baby!” he gloats. “Eight sacks! And my man, Zack, right behind with seven.” “Must be nice to just rush the passer every down,” Grantzinger says. “Some of us actually stop the run and cover, too.” “See, that’s the problem, Zack. You’re too damn grumpy all the time. Smile, man, and keep the sacks coming. Someone’s gotta be the number two pass rusher on the team.” Briggs Randall can’t help but interject. “No offense, Sean, but for the record, Zack was our sack leader until today.” Brock: “Until today, Briggs. And in second place he will stay.” Grantzinger: “Keep talking.” Brock: “We’re halfway through the season, and I’m halfway towards my big contract. On pace for sixteen sacks, it’s gonna be great.” Grantzinger: “I bet you don’t get to ten.” Most of the locker room hears the banter, including Logan Bishop. Brock’s boasting about his future contract makes him consider his own situation. In a contract year, Bishop will become a free agent again in months, just after his 28th birthday. The stars seem aligned for the big payday every football player dreams of—the one Brock can’t stop talking about—but Bishop already knows where he wants to be. “Fine then,” Randall says, seeing an opportunity, “put your money where your mouths are, gentlemen.” Grantzinger: “I don’t see Brock putting money in his ass.” Randall: “Listen! Whichever one of you has more sacks during the final eight games wins, pays the other one…I don’t know, whatever you guys decide.” Brock: “Wait, so we’re considered even now even though I have one more sack? How the fuck is that fair?” Grantzinger: “Stop bitching, Sean. We’ll say more sacks total. He’s right, Briggs, you can’t just start counting now.” Randall: “Fine. It’s settled, then. Whoever has more sacks at the end of the season wins.” “What if they finish tied?” Marlon Martin asks. Martin’s presence in the conversation—and the dilemma he has brought up—pauses talk for a moment. Randall: “I guess we’ll deal with that if we need to. Come up with a tiebreaker, or something. For now, the Los Angeles Knight sack exchange has reached an agreement.” Week 9’s conclusion marks the regular season’s halfway point for several teams, the Knights included. They still lead the AFC West at 6-2, though the Broncos have reached 5-3. The Chargers are struggling at 3-5, and the 2-6 Chiefs appear out of contention. Elsewhere in the league, the Falcons remain undefeated at 8-0, and the Texans stand atop the AFC at 7-1. It’s still far too early for a solidified playoff picture, but there is one immediate certainty for the Knights: this week’s game against the Ravens, AFC North leaders at 6-2, is their biggest of the season. Throughout practice week, Coach Daniel enjoys more offensive freedom than ever. He entered the season apprehensive about the offense’s potential and depth of receiving targets, but Bishop, Johnson, Wilkes, and Jaxson have all emerged as viable playmakers. Factor in the increase of talent on the offensive line, and the Knights offense is in the middle of an incredible step forward. As Daniel watches Jaxson run drills, he can’t help but wonder about his ongoing relationship with Rachel. It was something he always suspected at UConn, and he has no idea how much of an ongoing thing it has been over the last few years. He brushes it off and focuses on practice. Despite the recent offensive results, one man is unsatisfied. The only offensive player not to shine against the Bucs, and still reeling from his penalty against Kansas City, Jefferspin-Wilkes holds everything in during practice, doing his best to get everyone’s attention on the field. In the locker room, he dresses quickly and seeks out his quarterback. “Mav, got a second?” “Sure. What’s up, D-Jam?” “I think there are some more ways I can help you out.” “Oh, not this again.” As Wilkes states his case, Bishop, on the other side of the locker room, makes a private phone call to his agent, whom he hasn’t talked to in awhile. “What can I do for you, Logan?” the agent asks over the phone. “I want you to start working on an extension with Los Angeles.” “Now?” “As soon as possible.” “Logan, the thing is—” “I know I’m due to hit free agency this year, and we can always go that route, but I want to stay here. I like Coach Daniel, I like this offense, and I’d rather get something down sooner than later.” “Very well. I should warn you, though, that I know Chance Phillips, and he rarely discusses contracts mid-season. I’m not sure we can get a deal signed. We will, however, open up the dialogue and exchange some numbers. To get things rolling.” “That’s great.” Meanwhile, Maverick is ready to leave for the day and finished with Wilkes. “Look, D-Jam, the game plan is what it is. I’m not trying to shy away from you. When I see a receiver open, I throw to them. I don’t have time to play favorites. That’s all.” Maverick walks away, and Wilkes retreats to his locker, walking past Bishop, who hangs up. “Hey,” Bishop says. “You finish reading Friday Night Lights yet?” “What? No. I mean, I’m working on it.” Friday afternoon, as Knights management finalizes travel plans to Baltimore, Chance Phillips and his team run through some numbers. “Let me inform everybody about a development,” Phillips says. “I heard from Logan Bishop’s agent the other day. He wants to work on an extension.” “That’s good news, isn’t it?” DeMartine asks. “Definitely. Gives us an edge in free agency, at the very least.” “What’s the harm in locking him up now, Chance?” “I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.” This is a new problem for Phillips; now that the Knights have built a roster of talent, it is his job to retain as much of that talent as possible under favorable financial conditions. But Bishop is far from the last decision he’ll be making in the coming months. Phillips looks at the giant board of all fifty-three Knights under contract. Sean Brock is a free agent to be, as is Marlon Martin, who has suddenly become part of a three-man rotation at inside linebacker. Phillips needs to get clarification on that from Harden, whose contract also expires this year. He doesn’t want to think about shifting coordinators now that the franchise is gaining some continuity. Looking further, quite a few starters will enter contract years in 2013: Darren McFadden, Jerome Jaxson, Marcel Reese, Jared Veldheer, Khalif Barnes, Sam Luck, Zack Grantzinger, Dan Connor, Chet Ripka, and Sebastian Janikowski. Phillips definitely wants to extend a few of them before next season, but which ones? The next few months will be very busy. Another field goal by Justin Tucker sails through the uprights, and the Ravens lead, 23-3, with 13:10 to go in the fourth quarter. The Knights sideline feels more like a MASH unit today. Chase Grodd, Jared Veldheer, Jerome Jaxson, Logan Bishop, and Alex Johnson have all gone down with injuries, and the offense has suffered the consequences. Bishop and Veldheer have returned to the game, but are far from 100%. Maverick has taken five sacks and many hard hits. Defensively, the Knights play well, but with Baltimore dominating time of possession, they can only do so much. The Knights only have four first downs on the day. Ready to subject himself to more slaughter, Maverick hears the annoying bickering of Jefferspin-Wilkes in his ear. “I told you, Mav. I told you! I get more involved, this doesn’t happen!” Maverick does everything he can to keep from punching his teammate in the mouth. It’s clear, though, that Wilkes isn’t shutting up about this anytime soon. In the huddle, Maverick relays the call, a short passing play. Daniel is desperate to get some kind of rhythm going offensively, even if a win is out of the question. Wilkes shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips, scoffing at the conservative call. Everyone notices, and for Maverick, that’s the last straw. He takes the snap, ignores the called screen, and throws to Wilkes as hard as he can. Wilkes catches the bullet pass, a little surprised, and runs upfield. He spins away from a tackler and dives forward for a first down. “Interesting,” Daniel says. Everett looks at him, having heard the play call, too. Maverick looks to the sideline, waiting for the next call, as if nothing happened. Daniel calls another screen, and Maverick relays it in the huddle. From shotgun this time, Maverick takes the snap and surveys the field. Wilkes abandons his called stop route, bolting for the end zone instead. So be it. Maverick steps up and bombs it even though he’s covered. Wilkes runs with Cary Williams stride for stride, but Maverick’s pass is right on the money. Williams turns to look for a pass that was already thrown, and Wilkes runs into the end zone. 23-10, Ravens. Maverick and Wilkes find spots on the bench a fair distance from each other while the team celebrates modestly. Daniel isn’t sure to celebrate with them, scold them, or ask them what the hell is going on. After the Ravens chew some clock but are forced to punt, the Knights get the ball back with 7:36 to play. For Maverick, nothing has changed. If D-Jam wants the ball, he’s going to get the fucking ball. Maverick takes the snap and throws to Wilkes, who stiff-arms Williams for a four-yard gain. Operating with a quick huddle, Maverick takes another snap, looks to Wilkes, who’s covered pretty tightly, and lobs one. The pass sails out of bounds. Third and six. Maverick lines up in shotgun and the Ravens show blitz. He has no idea what route Wilkes is running, and he doesn’t care. He takes the snap and a mob of purple jerseys run for him. He sees Wilkes running a slant and fires over the middle. The pass somehow gets through and Ray Lewis pummels Maverick down. Wilkes catches the pass in stride, shakes off his man, and jukes Ed Reed. He runs with open grass in front of him. The Knights sideline comes to life as Wilkes sprints to the end zone. No one catches him. An abysmal performance and wave of injuries has somehow turned into a one-score football game; 23-17 Ravens, 6:50 to play. Daniel walks the sideline to find Harden. “Get us the ball back, coach, we’re gonna win this fucking thing.” The Knights force multiple third downs, but Joe Flacco manages to find open receivers against Harden’s blitzes. The Ravens move the chains and the clock ticks under three minutes. Two Ray Rice runs and two Los Angeles timeouts later, it’s third and five. Harden sends an outside blitz and Flacco drops back to pass. Brock rushes around the edge but gets planted. Grantzinger bull-rushes and forces Flacco forward, where Martin comes running in for the sack. “One more for the sack exchange!” Randall yells. Daniel decides to keep his last timeout and lets the clock tick down to the two-minute warning. He finds Maverick on the sidelines. “D-Jam, come over here,” he says. Wilkes strolls over. “You want to call the plays, Mav? That’s fine. Just keep moving the chains. Understood?” Maverick and Wilkes nod. The Knights get the ball on their own thirteen. Eighty-seven yards, 1:53, one timeout. Maverick stares down Wilkes in formation. He suspects the Ravens have caught on by now, but they’ll need to prove they can cover him before he throws elsewhere. Wilkes runs an out route and Maverick hits him between the numbers. Wilkes gets tackled in bounds for a nine-yard gain. 1:43, 1:42… Maverick shouts out the play call and hurries everyone to their place. He takes the snap and throws to Wilkes on a simple back-shoulder fade. Wilkes catches it and is brought down in bounds. First down. 1:32, 1:31… Maverick looks to Wilkes again but pass rush forces him right. He sees Bishop open and hits him. Bishop gets tackled before he can get out of bounds as Ravens fans sarcastically cheer for a different receiver catching a pass. 1:19, 1:18… Maverick takes his time setting the next play, needing proper protection. He takes the snap and drops back. Wilkes runs deep. Maverick steps up to throw, but he’s double-covered over the top. He rolls left, buying more time. Bishop tries to cross the field but he’s covered. Wilkes runs back towards Maverick, who throws in his direction. Wilkes leaps and grabs it, coming down in bounds on the Baltimore forty-yard line. 0:54, 0:53… Everyone on the Knights sideline stands, a historic comeback drawing closer and closer to reality. They scream at the players like fans yelling at the TV. “Hurry up! Line up!” “Let’s go, Mav! Move the chains!” “Spike it! Spike it!” Maverick lines everyone up and takes the snap. It looks like the Ravens are triple-covering Wilkes, and he throws it anyway. On a post route, Wilkes jumps and catches the ball, then gets hit hard on the Baltimore twenty-one. Whistles blow everything dead. The clock stops at 0:38. Daniel, having called timeout, signals Maverick towards the sideline. “Everything out of bounds or in the end zone, if you can,” Daniel says. “No timeouts left.” “Jaxson’s been open out of the backfield every play,” Everett says. “So dump it off if everybody’s covered downfield.” “First play,” Daniel says, “just get five yards, get out of bounds. Let’s slow it down.” Maverick nods, goes back to the offensive huddle, and relays the play call. He lines up in shotgun and studies the defense. He can’t tell what kind of coverage he’s about to get. He takes the snap and looks to Wilkes on an out route. Williams jumps the route, so Maverick lofts it deep. Wilkes is late adjusting, heads for the pass, dives, and catches it with his fingertips. Ed Reed dives in to bring him down in bounds on the Baltimore ten. 0:30, 0:29… “Hurry up! Hurry up!” “C’mon, Mav! C’mon, Mav!” The Knights run to the line for first and goal, and Maverick spikes it. The clock stops at 0:22. Daniel calls a simple play: out and stop routes, everything in the end zone. The Knights can’t stop the clock anymore and can’t afford to waste plays. Maverick lines up in shotgun and senses a blitz. He calls out blocking adjustments. He takes the snap and drops back. The Ravens blitz, but the offensive line picks it up. Maverick doesn’t see anybody open. Jaxson runs out of the backfield over the middle. Maverick rolls right, still not finding anything. Wanting to throw it out of the back of the end zone, he fires but gets hit from behind. The wobbly pass drifts through the air; Jaxson catches it and gets tackled. The refs spot the ball at the two while the clock ticks. 0:10, 0:09… “God damn it, Jerome!” Maverick yells. “To the line. Now! Go, go, go!” Knights sprint to the line as Maverick calls a play, not spiking it. He looks at the clock one last time. 0:03, 0:02… Maverick takes the snap and rolls left. Wilkes is double-covered. He looks to the middle. Bishop is there, but too many Ravens are around. Maverick tries to traverse the field, running back through the collapsed pocket. He dodges defensive linemen as a few linebackers blitz and flush him to the right side. He runs for the pylon, but defenders close in. Jaxson is covered. Bishop is covered. He stops in place and heaves the ball back to the opposite corner of the end zone. Wilkes, covered, runs back for it, spins around midair, and catches it with one hand. He comes down well within the end zone. Touchdown, Knights. For the first time all day, Maverick smiles, mobbing his wide receiver in celebration as the stadium goes dead. The officials review the play, uphold it, and Janikowski’s extra point gives the Knights the win, 24-23. A few offensive linemen hoist Wilkes on their shoulders, and he enjoys a ride to the locker room courtesy of his stat line: ten catches, 225 yards, three touchdowns—all in the fourth quarter. After the locker room interviews, post-game press conferences, a trip to the airport, and two-hour delay before takeoff, the team is still hyped during the plane ride to Los Angeles. Maverick and Wilkes take in all the praise, of course, though they say very little to each other. Somewhere at cruising altitude, when things have calmed down, Brian Penner walks over to both of them. “Either tonight,” he says, “or tomorrow night—and not a day later—you assholes will sit down and buy each other a beer. That was the most fucked up comeback I’ve ever been a part of. Next time, we do it the normal way. Deal?” “Deal.” “Deal.” When the team lands safely back home, Coach Harden turns his phone back on. He notices he has a few missed calls, but waits until he gets off the plane to check them. As he hauls his luggage into a cab headed for team headquarters, his phone rings. Caller ID reads “Trisha Harden.” Merle finds this strange; his daughter never calls him on game day. “Hello?” “Daddy.” She sounds strange. “I just landed. What’s up, Trish?” “I…I think I need your help.” She slurs her words, and Merle understands. “Are you drunk?” “I’m in my car, but…I don’t think I should drive anymore.” “Where are you? I’m coming to get you right now.”

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Twenty – The Chase Caden Daniel enters the conference room and steps to the podium for his Monday press conference. The size of the crowd surprises him; it looks like the highest attendance since Daniel’s introductory conference as head coach. A 5-1 record apparently commands attention. Daniel announces the latest injury report, and the real questions start. “Coach, can you talk about what the blowout win against Jacksonville means for this franchise?” “Right now, it means we got a big win, and we’re 5-1. Obviously it’s great any time you can win convincingly like that, but it’s one win. That’s it.” “But coach, isn’t there more to it than that with the Knights finally ‘over the hump,’ so to speak? Do you see anything in your players as far as, ‘Okay, we’ve crossed the hurdle now’?” Daniel hesitates. “What I see is a focused football team that’s executing. Is there some sense of relief to being 5-1 when our record the last few years has usually been the opposite? Yes, of course. But as I said, this team is very focused. They’re excited to be winning, but all attention is on playing Kansas City this weekend. That’s what we’re thinking about right now.” Throughout the week, several players face the same type of questions in various interviews. Are the Knights finally over the hump? When did the breakthrough really start? What is it like for you personally? What does it feel like in the locker room? Alex Johnson, on NFL Live: “You know, I can’t point to a specific starting point, but after that Green Bay game last year, we were pretty pumped. Mainly, we didn’t want the season to end. We wanted to get right back to work. And I think it speaks to our coaching staff that we were able to carry that anticipation throughout the offseason and into this year.” Sean Brock, on SportsCenter: “Defensively, it all starts with pass rush. Zack and I have been bringing it this year, and that makes the whole defense better. And if you’re playing good defense, you can beat anybody.” Chase Grodd, via phone on a Los Angeles radio show: “Since I’m a rookie this year, I don’t really know anything about what it was like previously. So, for me, the Knights are a good team and they always have been.” Sam Luck, on Around the NFL: “Well, when you have a losing record, it always weighs on you. You try to focus on football, but at the same time, you want to be winning and you’re always behind. That’s how we felt, like we were chasing it, chasing it, chasing it. Now, everything’s turned around. Now, it’s chasing us.” Adam Javad types up his Knights/Chiefs preview, on hold with Los Angeles Knights team headquarters. By now, he’s too frustrated to put substantial effort towards his article. “Hello, Mr. Javad?” “Yes!” he says, nearly dropping his phone. “Yes, I’m here.” “I’m sorry, but Coach Harden won’t be available for comment after practice today.” “Could you please tell him I’m trying to do a profile on him? Maybe I could just speak with him briefly—” “I’m sorry, but it’s not possible. You’ll have to try another day.” “Yeah, right. Thanks.” Javad hangs up. Another swing and miss. He goes back to work on his preview, unable to forget that countless other writers are typing up something similar. Los Angeles is a big city with plenty of journalists covering the Knights. Javad still seeks his breakthrough, a way to distinguish himself beyond being just another beat writer. Doing so covering the football team at the University of Missouri was one thing; an NFL franchise in the country’s second largest city is another. He knows the Harden story is the one he’s been looking for; it will elevate his status somehow, through publication or otherwise. Javad finishes his preview and decides it’s time to take advantage of what sources he does have in L.A. He dials the phone number he lucked into finding and waits for an answer. “Hello?” “Hi, is this Chance Phillips?” “May I ask who’s calling?” “My name is Adam Javad; beat writer for the Knights. I work—” “I know you who are, Mr. Javad. How did you get this number?” Javad smiles; it is Phillips. “I have my sources. And I know it’s highly unprofessional to call your personal number, sir, but I thought you would want to know about something I’m working on before it gets published, and I haven’t had any luck getting through to you officially. If you’d rather me call back later, I can. I promise I haven’t shared this number with anyone else.” “I won’t provide any official comment over the phone, but tell me what you’re talking about.” “I’m chasing a story about Merle Harden’s offseason schedule. I’ve heard from a lot of people in Carolina that he never works more than forty hours per week, no matter what the team is doing.” “Without commenting on the veracity of that accusation, aren’t you a few months late for offseason news, Mr. Javad?” “I get information when I get information, sir.” Phillips says nothing. Javad feels like he’s getting somewhere, but Phillips could hang up on him at any moment, and he’d be back to square one—almost. “I’ll tell you what,” Phillips says, “let’s get together sometime this week. In person. I take it you’re calling from your cell phone?” “Yes, sir.” “Then I’ll be in touch.” The line goes dead. Javad holds his phone in wonder. Was that a promising start, or a waste of time? On the other side of the call, Chance Phillips types away on his personal computer, researching as much as he can about Adam Javad. He may have been caught off guard, but this situation could certainly work to his advantage. Friday night, the trio of Sean Brock, Malik Rose, and Jerome Jaxson head to their favorite club, partying it up their last night in L.A. before the trip to Kansas City. “So Jerome,” Brock says, “when are we gonna meet the girlfriend?” “I don’t know,” Jaxson says. “Eventually.” “Yeah,” Rose says, “we all wanna meet the girl who got you going this season.” Jaxson sips his vodka tonic and studies his teammates closely. Do they know? Are they just messing with him? It doesn’t matter, he tells himself. Dating the coach’s daughter doesn’t violate any team rules. No official rules, anyway. “Hold up,” Rose says. “Does that guy look familiar?” They look toward an opening out of the VIP section and see a young man making his way through the crowd. He spots the trio and nods, as if they’re friends. None of the Knights responds, so he keeps walking. Brock: “I think I’ve seen him at press conferences.” Rose: “Yeah yeah, locker room, too.” Jaxson: “You have. His name is Adam something.” Rose: “So he’s media? What the hell’s he doing here?” Brock: “Don’t know. Should we bail?” Rose: “One more drink, then we’ll head somewhere else.” The three stick to that plan, and they leave the club in Rose’s red and black Dodge Challenger, the latest benefit of his new contract. Brock rides shotgun while Jaxson sits in the back. “We can’t be partying at the same clubs as journalists,” Jaxson says. “What if something happens?” “It’s him who shouldn’t be hanging with us,” Rose says, turning to face Jaxson. “We’re the players here; we run things. Grow some balls, Jerome.” The car veers into incoming traffic. Rose swerves right to avoid the honking cars. “Jesus Christ,” Brock says. “Stay in your lane, Malik.” Arrowhead Stadium braces for an apparent mismatch. The Chiefs are in the middle of a dismal 1-5 season that could very well be Romeo Crennel’s last, while the Knights come in at 5-1, AFC West leaders. The Knights offense finds rhythm immediately. Jerome Jaxson has room to run, and Maverick hits his receivers in stride. A third down screen pass to Jaxson nets twenty-two yards and puts the Knights in the red zone. Two plays later, Maverick sits behind a clean pocket and finds Alex Johnson wide open in the corner of the end zone. 7-0, Knights. This is going to be easy. 20-16, Chiefs, 3:49 to go in the fourth quarter. The Knights line up for first and goal from the ten. Maverick hands off to Jaxson, who runs through the middle but gets plastered by Derrick Johnson for a two-yard gain. It’s been all downhill since the Knights’ opening drive. Sloppy play on offense has led to three turnovers (two Maverick interceptions and a McFadden fumble), and the defense has been terrible on third downs; the Chiefs have converted ten of twelve opportunities. “Everybody focus here,” Maverick says in the huddle. “Let’s all do our job, execute, get a touchdown, and take the lead.” Maverick lines up in the shotgun and the Chiefs show blitz. He calls out some blocking adjustments and an audible to Bishop: run a quick curl. Maverick takes the snap and looks to his tight end. The blitz comes, but Jaxson misses his man, and Maverick hurries the throw. Bishop comes off his route in the end zone and the ball hits him in the hands. He loses it and it hits the grass. “Fuck!” Maverick yells from the grass. “God damn it, Logan!” Third and goal. Daniel calls a screen to Jaxson, not wanting to risk an interception against a Chiefs secondary that has been stellar all day. Jaxson runs left and catches the pass. He dodges a would-be tackler, stumbles, and Justin Houston throws him to the ground for no gain. On the sidelines, Daniel hesitates. “Go for it?” Everett asks him. Daniel scans his playbook, then stops himself. “Can’t. Not from the eight, anyway. Field goal.” Despite protests from Maverick, who was already calling a fourth down play, the field goal unit rushes on the field and sets up with the play clock running low. Janikowski make the chip shot. 20-19, Chiefs, 3:35 to play. After the kickoff and commercial break, the Chiefs offense takes the field and Daniel stands near an official, about to use his three timeouts. Everyone in the stadium expects a heavy dose of Jamaal Charles, though Harden’s defense hasn’t been able to stop him so far. First and ten. Charles takes a carry up the middle for two yards. Daniel calls timeout with 3:29 to go. Second and eight. Charles runs off-tackle to the left and finds a hole. Briggs Randall brings him down for a gain of five. Daniels calls timeout with 3:20 to go. Third and three. Charles takes a toss to the right, the blocking breaks down, and he cuts back to the middle. Dan Connor has him lined up, but Charles sidesteps him and dives forward for a first down. A frustrated Daniel burns his last timeout with 3:12 left. Harden subs in Marlon Martin for Connor (the two had been rotating snaps anyway) and berates Connor upon his return to the sideline. Two more uneventful Charles runs brings up third and nine at the two-minute warning. With Matt Cassel under center, the Chiefs take no chances; Charles runs again, and the Knights bottle him up to force fourth down, though the clock ticks. “Get ready!” Maverick yells on the sidelines. “Game-winning drive coming up, boys. Get ready.” The Chiefs end up punting with 1:15 left, and the kick sails out of bounds. The Knights take over from their own thirty-two with 1:09 to play, needing only a field goal. Maverick takes a shotgun snap and looks over the middle. He fires to Bishop, who gets twelve yards before being tackled. 1:09, 1:08… “Spike! Spike!” Maverick yells, hurrying everyone to the line. Once everything is set, Maverick throws the ball downward—keeping it in his hands. He runs right while most players stand idly, unaware of the fake. He throws to Johnson, wide open, who catches it at midfield. He cuts right and runs out of bounds. The clock stops at 0:58. About ten yards from Janikowski’s range, the Knights line up in shotgun again. Maverick takes the snap and throws quickly to Wilkes. He catches it and lines up his man, Brandon Flowers. Flowers pushes back, the two spar, and Wilkes goes down in bounds. “What are you doing, D-Jam?!” Maverick shouts. “Get out of bounds!” He hurries to the line while Wilkes and Flowers exchange words. 0:47, 0:46… “Let’s go! Hurry the fuck up!” Wilkes finally gets in formation, and Maverick takes the snap. He looks to Johnson—covered. Bishop—covered. Pressure comes up the middle and he rolls right, desperate to avoid a sack. He spots Wilkes at the last second and fires. Wilkes jumps at the sideline, catches it, and plants his feet. Flowers lowers his helmet and hits Wilkes in the back. He falls on the sideline, but the nearest official signals a catch. The Knights are in field goal range. Wilkes pops back up and spikes the ball at Flowers’ feet. The official throws a flag, and the Knights sideline restrains Wilkes. Daniel commands him back to the bench. The refs try to sort out the chaos with 0:34 left. Eventually, a personal foul is assessed to Wilkes. The fifteen-yard penalty pushes the Knights back to midfield, out of field goal range. Frustrated, Maverick gets ready for second and nineteen. He takes the snap and surveys; he spots an opening in the middle of the field and fires to Johnson on a crossing out. Eric Berry undercuts it for the interception and goes down. The stadium booms in celebration. Maverick contains his anger as he walks immediately to the locker room, happy to drown out the celebration of Chiefs fans. He finishes his trek and finds Wilkes already undressing. They stare each other down but Maverick says nothing, as Wilkes looks genuinely disappointed. Good. Fuck him. Knights fill in silently and change for the flight home. Wilkes observes several players having conversations, though nobody wants to talk to him. He knows he messed up but isn’t sure who he can talk to; a few lockers down, he spots Bishop, who looks just as dejected. “Can’t believe it, you know?” he says in Bishop’s general direction. “One play, man. One play.” Bishop says nothing. In fact, he barely notices Wilkes rambling, too busy replaying his end zone drop in his head again and again. Monday, most of Knights upper management has left for the night while Chance Phillips stays. Late nights at team headquarters are nothing new, but unique circumstances dictate this particular one. Just before seven, Adam Javad arrives, clears security, enters the building, and is escorted to the general manager’s office. “Hello, Mr. Phillips,” Javad says, knocking on the open door. “Good evening, Adam.” Phillips rises to greet him, and the two shake hands. “Please call me Chance. Sit down.” “Thank you, sir.” Javad takes a seat across from Phillips, wearing a suit and tie. He probably should have worn a tie. Has he lost an advantage already? “Tough game yesterday.” “You a Knights fan?” “I’d like to think so. Didn’t really have an NFL team to follow until I moved out here, so I might as well be.” “I see. So, let’s talk about this Harden story. Tell me what you have.” Phillips listens closely; if his instincts are correct, this meeting could be very productive. “As I said over the phone, a few sources in Carolina passed along rumors, but no one obviously went to print with it while Harden coached there. I guess he gained the favor of the local media somehow, I don’t know.” “Very well. Then I have two questions. First: why haven’t you published this already? After we spoke, you had no guarantee I would even call back. Why not just report it and put pressure on us to comment?” “I only publish information that I’ve confirmed from sources I trust. I don’t report speculation.” “I see.” “What about the second question?” “You answered it.” Javad doesn’t know what that means, but he would look stupid to ask again. He isn’t sure where to direct the conversation now. “Let’s be honest,” Phillips says. “A report about the offseason work habits of a defensive coordinator—doesn’t seem like the big scoop you need, Adam.” “How do you mean?” Phillips leans in. “You’re young, ambitious, new to L.A; you’re looking for a way to stand apart. Personally, I don’t think this Harden story is your answer, but there are other options.” Javad isn’t sure where this is going, and he can’t trust Phillips enough to be sure it’s not a trick. “I’m listening.” “This may be my third year in Los Angeles, but I still feel foreign when it comes to the media. I could use someone like you.” “Use me?” Javad definitely isn’t comfortable with that description. “You know how the NFL works, Adam. For better or worse, the media plays an important role. When and how certain information gets out can affect a player’s reputation, a draft prospect’s status, can shift a PR battle one way or the other. You catch my drift.” “So far.” “I’m the general manager of an NFL team, Adam. There’s quite a bit I can offer you. So I’ll tell you what. You forget this Harden story, and I’ll make it worth your while. If I have something I’d like leaked, I go to you first. In exchange, I’ll give you a heads up on news from time to time.” “Okay. Then…what else?” “Then maybe, one day, a big story is brewing. It’ll come out of nowhere, and everyone watching ESPN will cling to their television as they go live to Adam Javad, breaking the news before anyone else.” Javad’s mind races too quick to organize his thoughts. The GM of the team he covers is offering an incredible opportunity—or is it a trap? Are there any drawbacks? He manages to come up with one question. “Why me, sir?” “Let’s just say I have respect for a man who has respect for his profession. You don’t Tweet every little rumor that comes along, you’re professional at press conferences, and you’re too young to have a reputation to hide behind. Your legacy as a sportswriter has yet to be written.” Javad is stunned; this eloquence is beyond anything he ever expected from Chance Phillips, who now seems a much more intriguing figure. “I’d have to think about it.” “Of course.” Phillip rises. “You have my number; I’m confident you won’t spread it around.” Tuesday, the Knights are back to work, preparing for the 3-4 Buccaneers. Coach Daniel notices no lingering effects from the Kansas City game, a very welcome sight. In the past—as recently as last season—a crushing loss like that would have clouded over practice all week. But this is a different Knights team. After practice, Logan Bishop dresses and approaches Jefferspin-Wilkes’ locker. “Hey, D-Jam.” “What’s up, Logan?” “I’m sorry about Sunday, after the game. You were trying to talk to me and I was so busy thinking about my drop, I—I just ignored you.” “No big deal. I guess we both blew it, huh?” “Well, what were you going to ask me about?” “I don’t know, I—” Wilkes sits down, and Bishop follows suit. “I wanna be part of the team, man. And on Sunday—after shit like that, I know everybody looks at me. They look at what I did and they blame me for the loss.” “A lot of people made mistakes on Sunday.” “I know, but they make mine out to be the biggest. I love football, man, but it ain’t no fun if your teammates don’t respect you.” “I see what you mean. You know—this might sound like a cliché, but—” “A what?” “A—never mind. Have you ever read Friday Night Lights?” “Yeah. I mean, I saw the movie.” “The book’s a little different. I think you might get something out of it. I’ll bring it tomorrow.” “Um, okay, sure.” As practice week goes on, Jerome Jaxson’s athleticism get everyone’s attention. After a quiet start to the season, he has emerged as one of the team’s most dynamic playmakers. Thursday, Coach Daniel officially lists Jaxson at number one on the depth chart, ahead of Darren McFadden. Jaxson gets people talking for other reasons, too. Players talk to players, others overhear conversations, and word eventually reaches the coaching staff. Daniel delays as long as he can, but he wakes up Sunday knowing he needs to address it. The players put their pads on and trot onto the field for pre-game warm-ups. Jaxson lags behind due to an equipment issue, but he eventually jogs toward the tunnel. “Jerome,” Coach Daniel says. Jaxson thought he was out on the field already. “Hold up. I need to talk to you.” “I’m late, coach. Can we talk on the field?” “No, we can’t.” The smile on Jaxson’s face fades. He looks around at the empty locker room and walks towards his head coach. “Listen, coach—” “No, you listen. We’re going to make this simple because we have a football game to play. On the field, you are a football player, and I am your coach, just like always. Okay?” “Of course, coach.” “What you do off the field is your business. And if you and I ever have a problem about that, we will resolve it off the field as men, not as a coach and a player. Got it?” “Yes, sir.” “We will discuss this in more detail later. For now, I want you to understand that out there, on that field and on those sidelines, nothing has changed between you and me. You are a running back and I am your coach. Anything I do within those boundaries has nothing to do with Rachel, and it never will. Understood?” “Yes, sir.” Daniel sighs, relaxed and thankful to finally get that off his chest. “Good. Now let’s go. As I said, we have a game to play.”

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Nineteen – Twelve on the Field Block left, block right. Block left, pull right. All five offensive linemen rehearse variations of running plays against the practice squad defense as McFadden and Jaxson take turns running through holes. It’s Thursday, which means the game plan is finalized from a tactical standpoint; players just need to practice the plays. Then practice, practice, and practice some more. “Toss plays, gentlemen!” Coach Daniel announces. “Let’s try a few. Jerome, you’re up.” On the left side of the line, Chase Grodd assumes his position between Jared Veldheer and Brian Penner. These toss plays are a focus for him this week; he didn’t run many of them at Iowa and considers himself more of a between-the-hashes lineman. The line sweeps left and blocks the practice squad’s defensive front with ease. Grodd continuously pummels his man to the dirt, and Jaxson bolts through a gaping hole. No one seems to break a sweat, a theme of practice this week. With Sunday’s defeat in Atlanta a distant memory, the Knights feel confident about playing the 1-4 Jaguars. Grodd, however, knows better. They switch it up and run tosses to the right with similar results. Grodd finds his man and plants him to the ground. These types of plays excited Grodd early in the season, but not anymore. “Okay, pass pro now,” Daniel says. “Mav, get over here.” All five line up for pass protection drills. The Jaguars don’t blitz frequently, but as Coach Daniel says, it only takes one successful blitz to kill a drive. Grodd does fine against four-man rushes and picks up blitzes fairly well, but faster rushers occasionally slip by and get their hands on Maverick’s red jersey. The next run-through, Grodd sweeps left to pick up the blitz beautifully, but he gets bull-rushed and planted to the ground. “C’mon, Chase!” Maverick says. “Stick your man.” “Ease up, Chase,” Brian Penner says, helping Grodd to his feet. “When you sweep out like that, it’s easy to get fucked up, so bend your knees. Don’t get stiff.” Grodd nods and gets ready to face another rush, still discouraged. His struggles in pass protection are nothing new, and his dominance in run blocking during practice week has yet to translate to Sundays. “With the twenty-first pick in the 2012 NFL Draft, the New England Patriots select Chandler Jones, defensive end, Syracuse.” Goodell’s voice reaches the green room, where many prospects wait for their name to be called. Jones is not among them, so the room remains still—for now. At his assigned table, Chase Grodd waits, along with his parents and agent. Everything he has heard indicated he would be picked in the mid-to-late first round, so the moment could come any second now. His cell phone buzzes on the table and everyone freezes. Grodd picks it up and notices an ESPN camera heading straight for him. “Hello?” he says. His mother grabs his arm. “Chase?” “Yes. Who’s this?” “This is Chance Phillips with the Los Angeles Knights.” Grodd smiles, and everyone at the table knows what that means. The rest of the green room takes notice of the commotion. “Congratulations, Chase, we’re about to make you a Knight.” Grodd responds as politely as possible, though the excitement makes it difficult for him to realize what he’s saying. Before long, Goodell speaks at the podium again and calls Grodd’s name. The phone call ends, and Grodd rises from the table. His mother, hysterical, hugs him. Emotional but composed, he tries to soak in the moment as much as possible. He shakes his father’s hand and they embrace. His agent gives him one last “Way to go, Chase,” and he heads for the red curtains. Once there, he receives a black and purple Knights hat, puts it on, and walks onto the stage. As players leave for the day Friday, the coaching staff meets with management for quick debriefing. Wayne Schneider is supposed to be present, but he’s been on the phone for awhile. Chance Phillips starts anyway, eager to head home. “Alright, coach,” Phillips says, “injury updates?” “Let’s see here,” Daniel says, “Johnson’s ankle has healed up nicely; he’s probable for Sunday. Barnes went down today but he just got his legs twisted up, no big deal. Coach, how about Connor and Ripka?” “Chet says his ankle feels better,” Harden says. Daniel and Phillips look at each other. “He’ll be a go for Sunday, but we might need to limit him a bit. Connor’s gonna be out, so Martin starts inside again.” “Gentlemen!” Schneider says, strolling into the room. “I have incredible news. The league will announce two finalists for Super Bowl 50 this evening: the 49ers’ new stadium in Santa Clara, and none other than Farmers Field!” A modest round of cheers and applause takes over the room for a second. “Imagine this,” Schneider continues, “the National Football League’s fiftieth Super Bowl, the golden Super Bowl, in the Golden State. And the local team could very well be there. We’ll win that bid. I’ll make sure of it.” The very mention of “Super Bowl” launches Phillips into deep thought. Super Bowl 50 is three years away. The Knights absolutely should be contenders by then. Hell, they might be contenders already. A 4-1 start to their third season under Phillips’ management is far above expectations. It still hasn’t sunk in that in just a month, all talk at team headquarters about “rebuilding” has been replaced with Super Bowl hopes. Knights fans continue cheering with 5:15 left in the second quarter. Many felt nervous in the wake of the blowout loss to Atlanta, and today’s game against the lowly Jaguars was considered an opportunity for the team to get back on track. So far, they have given fans little reason to boo. The Knights lead 17-3 and their offense moves right down the field. To no one’s surprise, Maverick hands off to Jerome Jaxson, who surges through the middle of the field, bounces off multiple tacklers, and dives forward for a first down, now over one hundred rushing yards already. Just outside the red zone, the Knights line up for first and ten. Maverick drops back and fires a perfect pass to Bishop on a seam route. He gets tackled on the four-yard line. The crowd cheers as the Knights swap goal line personnel. Maverick takes the snap and pitches it to Jaxson for a sweep to the left. Jaxson runs horizontally, looking for an opening. A linebacker breaks through, but Jaxson jukes him, surges for the corner, and leaps through the air. He gets back up to see the ref signal touchdown, his second of the day. 24-3, Knights. On the sidelines, Chase Grodd celebrates with his teammates, though everyone else seems to be making it look easy. It certainly hasn’t been that way for him, and Jaxson bailed him out for letting his man get past him on that last play. After a commercial break, the defense goes back to work. Defending an offense led by Blaine Gabbert has been as easy as Harden said it would be—for the most part. From the free safety position, Griswold “Flash” Johnson waits for Gabbert to snap the ball. The Knights have shut Jacksonville down so far, their only three points a direct result of a bullshit pass interference call. Gabbert takes the snap, and Cecil Shorts runs through the middle of the defense. Flash picks him up and sprints downfield with him. The play ends, and the two slow down. Flash jogs back to formation for second down. He has yet to allow a catch today, a slightly misleading stat. Facing a rookie free safety and an injured strong safety, the Jaguars evidently decided to test the Knights secondary with lots of vertical routes, a strategy that plays right into Johnson’s style and ability. Flash plays football knowing no one else is faster than he is, and covering receivers on deep routes proves that. But he’s been running his ass off. Covering shitty receivers like Shorts and Justin Blackmon is easy, but sprinting down the field every other play wears him down. He catches himself looking at the clock, counting the minutes until halftime. About an hour and a half southwest of Ford Field and an hour south of the Big House, football players at little-known Adrian College gather in a small auditorium where they usually receive a pre-game prep talk from their coach. Today, they enjoy a much more special experience. A Division III school for athletics, Adrian football players never go to the NFL, much less receive consideration. But today, the player they call Flash talks to an NFL team on the phone. His new NFL team. Four years ago, Griswold Johnson joined the Adrian Bulldogs like all his teammates: a local, ambitious football player not talented enough for Division I or II. His raw speed was apparent immediately, and by his sophomore season, he used it to become a shutdown safety. He followed that with a dominant junior year, and then a dominant senior year. All the while, nobody in the national media seemed to notice. The only attention Flash got came in the form of some highlight reels on YouTube, showcasing many of his devastating hits. Now, however, an ESPN camera crew circles the auditorium. A D-III prospect drafted in the second round is apparently a big story. With noise filling the auditorium and his mother in tears beside him, Flash listens closely to the other side of the phone call. “Look, Griswold,” Coach Daniel says, “I’m gonna pass the phone to Merle Harden, our defensive coordinator. He’s really excited to talk to you. Here he is.” Another voice says, “Griswold?” “Hi, coach.” Meanwhile, the television announces Johnson’s pick officially, and ESPN’s draft coverage cuts to the live feed at Adrian. The entire team goes crazy, and Flash can’t hear anything. Flash watches Ripka jog off the field for third down, a welcome sight. Ripka off the field draws more attention to Flash, allows him the opportunity to step up and be recognized as the team’s premiere safety. Gabbert takes the snap. Flash picks up Justin Blackmon, who cuts left as Gabbert throws. Flash undercuts the route, but Blackmon cuts back downfield. Flash adjusts, lagging behind, and Gabbert lobs a deep pass. Flash catches up, turns to find the ball, and swats it out of midair. “Get that shit out of here!” he says towards Blackmon. “Get that fuckin’ shit out of here! Learn to play receiver, bitch.” Blackmon looks like he wants to respond, but Rose runs in and separates Flash before anything escalates. From the sidelines, Ripka watches in bewilderment. “Now that’s something,” Ripka says. “How’s that?” Harden asks. “You know it’s impressive if Rose is telling you to stop talking shit.” The Knights hold a 24-3 lead into halftime, during which the coaches make few adjustments. In fact, Daniel contemplates how best to run out the clock, considering that Jaxson has touched the ball eighteen times already. Meanwhile, Harden has no qualms about his defense, though he gets some injury news. “Antonio Garay’s out for the game, coach,” a trainer informs him. “Mild injury. Probably fine for next week, but he’s done for the day.” “So be it,” Harden says. He walks across the locker room to his second string nose tackle, who sits calmly by his locker, eyes closed and headphones in his ear. “Damian.” He says nothing. “Damian!” Startled, he takes the headphones off. “Wake up, kid. Garay’s out for the second half, so you’re up.” The Jones residence of central California has gone from thrilled to disappointed. Family, friends, and teammates have watched draft coverage the entire day, certain the man of the hour would hear his name called. But with only one pick left in the third round, it looks like they’ll have to wait until tomorrow. The largest man in the room, 325-pound Damian Jones, wants to turn off the TV. He’s already waited much longer than he thought he would; at this point, it almost doesn’t matter when he gets drafted. “Tough luck, Anthrax,” a nearby teammate says. “Better luck tomorrow.” Jones’ phone vibrates. “That’s probably Coach,” he says, “telling me the same thing.” He looks at the number: a 213 area code, which he recognizes. “Wait. Who’s on the clock right now?” “The Knights. L.A.” “Oh, shit…” “Hey, Mr. Jones! Mrs. Jones! Get back in here!” Damian’s parents rejoin the living room to find their son on the phone, and everyone understands what has happened. After hours of waiting, the phone call lasts an eternity. Damian speaks with the head coach, general manager, owner, and then defensive coordinator. “Hello, Damian,” Coach Harden says. “Congratulations.” “Thank you, coach.” “I don’t know how much you follow the Knights, but I run a 3-4 defense.” Jones sits back, surprised and intrigued. “I’ve been looking for a young nose tackle the past few years, and I believe you can fill that role. What do you think?” In the build-up to the draft, the possible transition to a 4-3 defensive tackle was something Jones brushed off in interviews but secretly feared. He loves the idea of staying as a 3-4 nose tackle. “I’m ready to get to work, sir.” Jones lines up at nose tackle and stares down the center as the Knights defense takes the field to defend their lead. This isn’t his first time seeing the field, but it will be his first chance for extended playing time. Gabbert takes the snap and hands off to Maurice Jones-Drew. Brad Meester blocks Jones and the two hold in place. A few seconds later, the play ends. Second and eight. Gabbert drops back to pass, and Jones rushes up the middle. Meester holds him off with ease while Gabbert throws incomplete. Third and eight. Jones rushes again, but Meester holds him off. Gabbert throws over the middle and finds a receiver for a first down. The Jaguars go back to running the ball, with Jones doing everything he can, proving ineffective. He manages to hold his ground but can’t find a way to beat Meester. His days being a force in the trenches at Cal are long gone; he almost can’t believe how much different the pros are. Jacksonville eventually reaches field goal range, where they rely on Gabbert’s arm to cash in on a touchdown. Three plays later, Josh Scobee kicks a forty-three yard field goal. 24-6, Knights. Jones takes a seat on the bench and promptly receives a healthy dose of Harden’s criticism. “Against this team we shouldn’t give up a single fucking point! Tighten up!” Next to Jones sits Marlon Martin, not as bothered by Harden’s bashing. The Knights defense is playing great, and Martin believes he is part of that. But he took advantage of playing time last year, too, and the team paid him back by signing a new linebacker. With 6:10 left in the fourth quarter, the game’s result is imminent. The Knights have capped their last three drives with a Logan Bishop 22-yard touchdown reception, Jerome Jaxson 19-yard touchdown run, and Sebastian Janikowski 50-yard field goal. The Knights get the ball after a Jacksonville punt with a 41-6 lead, and Coach Daniel makes a decision. “Mav, Jerome, you guys can sit the rest of this one out. Well done.” Maverick and Jaxson soak in praise from coaches and teammates; they have both been near flawless. Maverick finishes the day with a cool 13.5 yards per attempt, and Jaxson is just short of two hundred all-purpose yards. With the first team offensive line still in, Darren McFadden gets some carries, as does seventh round rookie Marcus Jameson. In the trenches, the Chase Grodd/Brian Penner tandem continues to dominate. Grodd has played better as the game has gone on, now with supreme confidence. It’s a shame there’s only a few minutes left. The 44-6 score goes final, and the Knights walk into the locker room as the stadium celebrates around them. Jay Cooper showers his 5-1 team with praise. “Way to go, assholes! Way to go!” Once everyone is in the locker room, Coach Daniel gathers a crowd. “Absolutely outstanding job, gentlemen. That’s a great football game. And that’s what we’re capable of every week. Let’s make sure we take that with us to Kansas City. But first…” An assistant hands him a football and he holds it up. “Game ball.” The players cheer in anticipation, though everyone knows who’s getting it. Daniel builds up some suspense anyway. “Jerome Jaxson.” Players cheer louder as Jaxson emerges from the crowd, smiling, and takes the football. “We don’t know who flipped the switch,” Daniel says, “but we’re sure as hell glad it’s on. Amazing performance today, Jerome.” The two shake hands and Jaxson ends up in the center of a chaotic celebration. Later, after the reporters have come and gone, several Knights dress for a planned team dinner. Among them is Jaxson, but he’s too busy texting to get his suit on. “Uh oh!” Wilkes teases. “Jerome texting his new lady friend. He got the mojo back with a little…” Wilkes makes a few sexual gestures. “I guess the best way to get a jump in your legs is to get your balls going first.” “Now, now,” Maverick says sarcastically. “You lay off my running back. If a little poontang is what it takes to get this man going in the backfield, that’s fine with me.” “Poontang?” Penner says. “You guys are fucking pussies. See you at dinner.” “Grumpy old man,” Maverick says. “You go get ‘em, Jerome.” He pats him on the shoulder and walks away. Jaxson goes back to texting, but he drops his phone. It bounces off his shoe and towards Alex Johnson’s locker. Johnson picks it up and views the screen. “Is this the new squeeze?” Johnson asks. “Rachel is a cute name.” “Give me that,” Jaxson says, snatching the phone back. “That’s my fucking phone, man.” “Relax, Jerome, relax.” Jaxson says nothing. “Wait, hold up. That was your girlfriend, right?” Johnson steps closer to Jaxson’s locker so nobody hears the rest of the conversation. “Yeah.” “It said her name was Rachel Daniel. Is she…” “I gotta go.” In all, twenty-six Knights take up the VIP room at Valencia, one of Los Angeles’ priciest restaurants for the elite. Initial drink orders include five bottles of wine, six beers, and one order of whiskey straight (Brock wastes no time). Table conversation rarely includes football; the Knights played a great game and are celebrating that, not dwelling on it. They can dwell and analyze during practice. Alex Johnson and Jaxson share a few awkward glances, but nothing is said. Once Brock has had enough whiskey, he gloats about his new contract. Appetizers include shrimp cocktail, bruschetta, calamari, and crab cakes. The drinks keep flowing and dinner orders are placed. They include steak, lobster, salmon—a little of everything. As food is being served, someone passes along word that the Packers beat the Texans on Sunday Night Football, meaning Atlanta is the only unbeaten team left in the league. The mention of Atlanta causes a silent start to dinner. Jovial conversation eventually returns, and Maverick selects a champagne to accompany dessert, ordering five bottles so everyone can have some. By the time everyone is eating either chocolate soufflé, key lime pie, or crème brûlée, champagne is poured. “A toast!” Maverick says, raising his glass. “To the best team in the league. Cheers.” Everyone drinks, and all champagne bottles run dry rather quickly. By the time everything is finished, Maverick again takes the lead, grabs his suit, and says, “Farewell, gentlemen. See you all in the film room. And to our illustrious rookie class...” The rookies who had risen from their seats sink back down. “…thank you all for a wonderful meal.” The room clears except for the five rookies in attendance, and a waiter soon brings the bill. “Let’s see the damage,” Chase Grodd says, scanning the long receipt and viewing the final tally (with gratuity automatically included): $5,529.28. “Okay, how are we dividing this up?” Damian Jones: “I got it last time.” Griswold Johnson: “Not me.” Grodd: “Flash, you never pay. What’s up with that?” The argument continues until everyone takes out their credit cards, with Grodd flagging down the waiter with a complicated request.

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Eighteen – Aerial View Already at the quarter mark of the 2012 season, the league standings show a few surprises. At 4-0, the Knights look down on the entire AFC West from a comfortable height. The Chargers are 2-2, the Broncos 1-3, the Chiefs 0-4. Only three other teams in the league remain undefeated after four games: Arizona, Atlanta, and Houston. Sports talk shows find plenty of airtime for the Los Angeles Knights, with most of the praise going to the general manager/head coach team of Chance Phillips and Caden Daniel. Several analysts take the opportunity to declare the Knights favorites to win the AFC West. While not all pundits are willing to go that far, everyone agrees that the annual dormancy of the Oakland Raiders is in the past, and that the Knights are a contending football team. The Knights/Falcons game looms large in two weeks, but the Knights get to enjoy a bye week first. While the coaching staff gets an early start, Coach Daniel gives his players an extra day off. After a 4-0 start, they’ve earned two days off in his mind. Most players simply take the day off, grateful for added rest, though several seize the opportunity for celebration. Jonathan Maverick, in an unprecedented move, invites his receivers and tight ends to the club with him, but Jefferspin-Wilkes is the only one who accepts. Maverick regrets this result, as Wilkes spends most of the night lobbying for more targets. Sean Brock organizes a similar get-together for the defense, with Briggs Randall and Malik Rose joining. Randall, however, spends more time than expected watching film, and bails at the last second. Brock and Rose make light conversation in the VIP lounge of another club, with Brock eventually bringing up Rose’s new contract. “What was it in all?” Brock asks. “Thirty?” “Thirty-two and a half,” Rose says. “Just wait ‘till I get my deal this offseason. Forty, at least.” “Not sure you heard, Brock, but they pay you based on how good you are, not how good you think you are.” “No worries, Malik. Three sacks already. I’ll have twenty before the year is over.” “If you say so.” No longer the partying type, Chet Ripka plans a quiet day at home with the kids. While they’re at school and his wife is working, he sits around the house, nothing much to do. He feels groggy, the physical hangover from Sunday’s game lingering longer than usual. He ends up spending most of the day sleeping on the couch. Practice on Wednesday is more relaxed than ever. Maverick deliberately throws off-target and chastises his receivers for not making the catch. Amused but searching for a counter, D-Jam chooses his moment. He runs out for a passing play, then sneaks across the line of scrimmage, lines up next to Grantzinger, and assumes the three-point stance. Maverick surveys the field casually. “Green twenty-five,” Maverick calls, “green twenty—what the fuck?” He realizes his receiver has lined up at outside linebacker and falls over in laughter. Wilkes bolts off the line, snatches the ball from Maverick, and sprints down the field. “All the way, bitch!” he yells from the end zone. Most of the players laugh, and Coach Daniel can’t help it either. After a moment, he walks in to get everyone back in formation. Nearby, Coach Harden watches in bewilderment as the entire offense tries to compose themselves. “Queers,” he says, sipping iced coffee. “Excuse me, coach,” Ripka says, walking off the field. “Have to step away.” “Wait, what?” Harden spins around, but Ripka walks toward the locker room, head down. Harden drinks more iced coffee. “The hell is going on around here today?” Once the offense starts taking things seriously, Alex Johnson grabs everyone’s attention. Known as a sharp route-runner devoid of eye-popping athleticism, Johnson lights up the field with acrobatic grabs and diving catches. Taking notice, Daniel lets him try some back-shoulder fades, usually Wilkes’ forte. Maverick and Johnson fail to connect initially, then find some rhythm. Maverick has to adjust his throws, as Johnson doesn’t have the catch radius Wilkes does. When the first team defense has a break, Rose gladly volunteers to join. Unsurprisingly, Johnson finds Rose’s coverage significantly tighter than anyone from the practice squad. After some jostling, Johnson spins for the ball late, jumps, misses, and comes down awkwardly. A familiar pain jolts through his leg. “Not again, not again,” Johnson says to himself, unable to stand. A crowd of players forms, and the trainers aren’t far behind. “Goddamn it, Malik,” Maverick says, running in, “what did you do?” “Man, I didn’t do shit. Fuck you.” As the initial wave of pain subsides, Johnson feels optimistic. It feels like a very mild sprain, though it’s obviously too early to tell. He limps off the field, and the trainers escort him into team headquarters for evaluation. He remembers that the team is on a bye week; he’ll have extra time to recover for the next game, however serious the injury is. Almost to the locker room, he spots Ripka speaking with Chance Phillips. What is he doing talking to the GM? Before he can consider it, he limps into the trainer’s area for a closer look at his ankle. Hours later, after practice has just ended, Ripka waits upstairs outside the general manager’s office. Only rare circumstances lead players to the second floor of team headquarters, and this is no exception. “Chet,” Phillips says, having apparently opened the door, “come on in.” As if being summoned for an appointment, Ripka walks into the office, where he stands with Phillips, Coach Daniel, one of the team’s head doctors (whose name Ripka can’t remember), and Wayne Schneider. The owner being present on a Wednesday is another rare sight this situation has necessitated. “Okay, Chet,” Phillips says. “Based on everything you and Dr. Evans have told us, it’s become evident you have a concussion.” Ripka nods. “I figured.” “Obviously,” Daniel says, “we can deal with the injury moving forward; that’s not a problem. The complication is that you likely suffered this concussion on Sunday. Probably on that play where Rose’s shoulder got you in the head, which means…” “We let you play with a concussion,” Phillips says. “Let’s not mince words here,” Schneider says. “Concussions are a big deal for the league right now. As you all know, they’ve stepped up their focus lately, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they continue to do so this offseason. So we have a decision to make.” “What decision?” Ripka says. “The only people who definitively know you have a concussion are in this room,” Schneider says. “We need to decide whether to keep it that way.” “You’re talking about fudging injury reports, fudging records,” Daniel says. “I’m talking about avoiding trouble. If the league finds out we let someone play with a concussion, there will be consequences no matter how we spin it.” “Hypothetically,” Phillips says, “can we reasonably and confidently keep this under wraps? Other players have realized Chet didn’t practice.” “Before we go there,” Daniel says, “I must say I don’t think the situation is that dire. So we missed an injury. It happens. Admitting it is far better than covering it up and having it come out later.” “In response to both of you,” Schneider says, “we most certainly can keep this under wraps. Attribute it to some minor injury, whatever fits, and we let Chet get better.” Silence takes over the office, an understanding apparently reached. “Chet,” Daniel finally says, “this is your injury we’re talking about. Which side are you on?” “Whichever one is best for the team,” Ripka says. Another week of NFL action goes in the books, and with Arizona’s loss to St. Louis, only three teams remain unbeaten. Two of them will meet on Sunday in the Georgia Dome, and for the second consecutive game, the Knights prepare for the game of the week on the road. Practice in Los Angeles has changed considerably. With Chet Ripka and Alex Johnson both officially questionable with ankle injuries, the game plan on both sides of the ball shifts. Defensively, Coach Harden prepares for another high-powered offense with an outstanding quarterback. He ultimately decides on the same strategy that kept Peyton Manning in check because it is not dependent on Ripka. Offensively, Coach Daniel assumes Alex Johnson won’t be able to play, which leaves the passing game thin. Running will be more important than ever. Darren McFadden has had a nice season so far, but he’s been running behind a good line. The real game-breaker, the runner on the team capable of turning small holes into huge plays, hasn’t shown up yet. Jerome Jaxson runs through the usual drills and has another ordinary day of practice. He knows he may be in line for an increased workload Sunday, but nothing else has changed. After practice, Jaxson dresses in the locker room; Coach Everett sneaks up behind him. “Jerome, coach wants to see you when you get a minute.” Is he getting cut? No, that’s impossible. Daniel would never cut him midseason. Then what does he want to talk about? Jaxson knocks on the door and sees the man who has coached him for the last five years. “Come in, Jerome. Take a seat.” He does so. Daniel seems calm, so Jaxson relaxes a bit. “Jerome, I’d like for both of us to figure out what’s going on this season.” “With what, coach?” “With you. Every time you’ve touched the football this year, you’ve been a different player. I don’t know who’s taking carries and returning punts, but it definitely is not the Jerome Jaxson I coached at UConn, and it is definitely not the Jerome Jaxson I saw last year.” Daniel does his best to boost Jerome’s confidence, though it doesn’t seem to be working. “You know, coach, I just…when I get the ball, I—I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go.” “No, that’s not true.” “What, coach?” “All good running backs have that instinct. They know when to hit the hole, when to cut back, when to lower their shoulders. You have that instinct. What I’m trying to figure out is why you’re fighting it.” “Why I’m—” “It’s the knee, isn’t it?” Jaxson freezes. He’s been dancing around this thought in his mind, but now it’s apparently time to address it. “I think so.” “Listen, Jerome, it’s completely normal to feel hesitant after a knee injury. In your case, it is especially normal after two knee injuries. But trust me, running scared doesn’t work. I know you don’t want to get hurt again, but you can’t take that mentality onto the field with you. You have to forget your knee. You have to run like you’re totally unafraid to get hurt again. That’s the way football is meant to be played.” “Yes, sir,” Jaxson says, gripping both his knees. “Listen, how about you stop by the house after practice Thursday? The family hasn’t seen you in awhile. Like old times.” “Okay, coach. I’ll be there.” Falcons fans pack in the Georgia Dome with red, eager for Atlanta’s biggest game of the season. NFL fans of many teams look forward to the game; it’s a little early to confidently label the Knights as legitimate, but if they are, today’s game could be a Super Bowl preview. The Knights get the ball first. Maverick unexcitedly hands off to Darren McFadden, who gets four yards up in the middle. On second down, McFadden takes it again, finds less room this time, and it’s third and four. Maverick fakes a handoff and looks right; D-Jam is covered. He looks left; nothing. Over the middle, Bishop is covered, but Maverick forces it through traffic. Defenders tip it and it hits the ground. “Gotta get more separation than that, guys,” Maverick says on the bench. “They were doubling me, man,” Wilkes says. “Nothing I could do.” Shane Lechler’s punt sails out of bounds and the Falcons set up shop. Matt Ryan surveys the Knights defense and calls his cadence. Briggs Randall stares him down, ready for a simpler game than in Denver, expecting less audibles at the line of scrimmage. Ryan fakes a handoff to Michael Turner and fires to Roddy White on a post route. He catches it and Rose tackles him for a twelve-yard gain. Turner takes a few handoffs before Ryan looks to White again, this time on a deep cross. He lofts one over the middle, just past Griswold Johnson’s outstretched arms, and hits White in stride. Rose runs from behind and tackles him at the nine-yard line. “C’mon, Malik,” Randall calls, “tighten up.” “Shut up, Briggs,” Rose says. Ryan takes the snap and stares down White. Rose runs with him. Ryan throws for the corner of the end zone, both men jump for it, and it lands incomplete. A flag comes flying before Rose can celebrate, and the crowd cheers. Pass interference, ball on the one-yard line. While Rose brushes it off and prepares for another loft to the corner, Turner takes the carry up the middle and finds the end zone with ease. 7-0, Falcons. Harden goes ballistic on the sidelines while Daniel remains calm. “Let’s get it right back, gentlemen.” Jerome Jaxson starts this drive in the backfield, eager to touch the football. He does so on first down, sees a hole, and nets a five-yard gain. Satisfied, he wants another try, but Daniel calls a passing play. Maverick looks to D-Jam, but he’s covered again. John Abraham comes out of nowhere and brings him down. Third and twelve. Maverick reads the defense and senses a blitz. He shouts out protection changes, sees the play clock running low, and hurries the snap. Linebackers come free up the middle. Maverick rolls right desperately. He escapes the rush, sees a covered D-Jam, and heaves it toward the sideline. Wilkes breaks open, but the pass lands out of bounds. Neither Maverick nor Wilkes says anything on the sideline this time, and the Knights defense goes back on the field. After a two-yard run by Turner, Ryan looks downfield on second down. With a clean pocket, he can’t spot anybody open. Sam Luck breaks through up the middle, and Ryan rolls left, where Brock breaks off his blocker. Ryan clutches the ball and Brock sends him down for a twelve-yard loss. On the sidelines, Harden finally relaxes. Third and twenty. The Knights send an outside blitz, and Ryan hands off to Jacquizz Rodgers, who surges up the middle into open field. He jukes one defender, spins away from another, and dives forward for a twenty-one yard gain and the first down. The Georgia Dome rocks as Harden’s blood pressure skyrockets. “Jacquizz Rodgers?! Really? What is the little prick, three-foot-five? C’mon, men!” Within field goal range, Ryan looks deep after play-action. He bombs it into the end zone, where Julio Jones jumps over Richard Marshall’s coverage and hauls in a beautiful catch. He plants two feed down before falling, and the nearest official signals touchdown. From the press box, Chance Phillips looks on in frustration (and envy) at the receiver he was desperate to land in the 2011 draft. The one he took instead is currently out with an injury. 14-0, Falcons. After a commercial break, Maverick waits in the huddle for the play call. “That’s enough bullshit,” he says. “Time to get back in this thing. D-Jam, I don’t care if you’re triple-covered; we’re making big plays.” “Whatever you say, boss.” Maverick hears a play call he likes and hurries a snap. He rolls right and D-Jam breaks open. He fires downfield and Wilkes hauls it in by the sidelines for a big gain. Maverick lines up to pass again, but D-Jam is doubled. He looks left, waits for Bishop to break on a post-corner, steps up—the ball falls out of his hand. Abraham falls on it, recovering his own forced fumble, and Atlanta’s offense takes the field again. Knowing the game’s momentum is already reaching a critical stage, Harden watches Malik Rose closely. He considers him the team’s best player, but if he can’t cover Roddy White, it’s going to be a very long day for his defense. On the next few plays, Rose is all over White, and Ryan doesn’t look that way. He does, however, find Tony Gonzalez over the middle. Three Gonzalez receptions later, the Falcons reach the red zone. Harden’s frustration grows; now that Rose has remembered how to play cornerback, Atlanta is exposing Chet Ripka’s absence. Dan Connor stumbles off the field, favoring his chest. Harden notices and looks to the bench. “Martin! Martin, where the fuck are you?” Backup linebacker Marlon Martin sees the injured Connor and jumps off the bench. “You’re in, Marlon,” Harden says. “Don’t fuck up.” The Knights line up against first and goal from the ten. Martin barely has time to register the play call before Ryan takes the snap and he blitzes. Ryan floats one over the middle to Gonzalez, who is somehow wide open in the end zone. 21-0, Falcons. The extra point ends the first quarter. All energy on the Knights sideline has been drained. The fiery coaches have stopped yelling, apparently out of things to say, and no players scream words of encouragement. Everyone takes in the shock as the Georgia Dome rocks around them. The locker room is quiet as players try to recover physically and mentally. The halftime score is 28-7, and the coaching staff searches for answers to pull off a comeback. “They’re doubling D-Jam on passing downs,” Everett says to Daniel and the offensive coaches, “taking away all big plays, forcing things over the middle, where our interior linemen are giving up way too much pressure. They’re suffocating us. We either need the run game to get going or reshape the entire offense.” “I don’t see a renovation happening at this stage,” Daniel says. “Let’s slow the game down a bit. If we speed up, go no-huddle, they’ll just do the same thing and shut us down.” Defensively, Harden finds no comfort in the words of his assistants. “We’re using the same game plan as Denver, and they’re shredding it.” “They obviously paid attention to the Denver tape.” “We need to change it up. Big time.” “That’s enough,” Harden says. “The scheme is fine. We just need to execute.” “But, coach—” “Listen to me. Rose can’t cover Roddy White, Brock is getting beaten by Sam fucking Baker, and we can’t tackle that little Jacquizz asshole. They’re not executing. You guys want to help us win? Talk to the training staff; see which one has the most experience in surgically removing heads from asses.” The Knights defense shows mild improvement in the third quarter. Atlanta makes a point of running the clock, and they convert through the air when they need to. While they move the ball, the Knights take away the deep ball and force field goals. Dan Connor is declared out for the game, so Marlon Martin plays at inside linebacker. How fitting that he gets an opportunity against the team that made him special teams captain, then let him walk. He feels extremely unprepared initially, but by the end of the third quarter he finds a comfort zone. Not sure how much longer he’ll see playing time like this, he tries to make the most of every snap. Meanwhile, the offense becomes a run-first attack, which is surprisingly effective but time consuming. With Atlanta playing conservative defense to prevent big plays, Jerome Jaxson explodes. He’s not sure when it starts or why, but Jaxson has that feeling again. He sees holes, exploits them, makes defenders miss. Maverick also throws to him out of the backfield on several third downs, giving Jaxson over a hundred all-purpose yards in the third quarter alone. As a team, the Knights regain their composure but cannot find intensity. The third quarter ends with the Falcons ahead, 37-17, and the fourth quarter is more of the same. Jerome Jaxson’s first touchdown of the year makes it 37-27 with 5:08 to play, but a failed onside kick and subsequent Matt Bryant field goal seals the game’s fate, and the Falcons win, 40-27. The locker room atmosphere is a repeat of halftime, except the coaches aren’t looking at film, searching for adjustments. Coach Daniel walks around, studying his players’ faces. “There’s no time for regret in football, gentlemen,” he says. “Believe me. You want to feel sorry for yourselves? That’s fine. Want to beat yourself up about this game? It won’t do any good, but sure. Help yourself. Just remember one very important thing: we are a good football team.” A few players turn their gaze from the floor to their head coach. “We played a great football team today and they beat us. We’re still a good team. Do not let today challenge that notion in your mind. Did we play our best today? No. Do we have things to work on this week? Definitely. But does this loss undo everything we’ve accomplished the last six weeks? Everything we’ve worked for the last year? Absolutely not. The rest of the league is not looking forward to playing us right now. Let’s make sure we live up to those expectations.” Daniel studies everyone’s reaction. While nobody smiles or looks satisfied, a few players nod in agreement. “Let’s go home.”

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Seventeen – Sheriffs of the West Reporters and cameramen circulate from locker to locker, asking as many questions as possible. The players, on their way out for the day after a victory, soak in the praise. Jonathan Maverick, yet to put his shirt on, draws the biggest crowd of microphones. “Mav,” one reporter asks, “what happened on that play before halftime with the officials?” “You know, the refs were pretty terrible out there today. And when we think we’re getting screwed, we’re not going to just let it go.” A few lockers down, Brian Penner answers a similar question. “Nobody shoves us around. The refs can make bad calls; that’s part of the game. But if the other team wants to get in our faces about it, that’s a bad idea for them.” Around the corner, a modest crowd directs questions toward Chet Ripka. “How does it feel, as a veteran on a rebuilding team, to start the season off 3-0 when the franchise has had a losing record for so long?” Translation: how happy are you that the final years of your career won’t be wasted on a shitty team? “It feels great,” Ripka says. “The guys upstairs have put a lot of talent on the roster, and you’re starting to see that on the field.” “Do you think this is a sign of things to come, that you guys are for real?” “You never want to get ahead of yourself. It’s one game at a time in this league. We’re 3-0 now, but we could easily finish 3-13. Everybody in this locker room knows that.” Meanwhile, Sam Luck enjoys a jovial interview. “Pretty quiet game for you today, Sam. No sacks, no tackles in the backfield. How disappointed are you in that?” That’s a shockingly tough question, but Luck doesn’t flinch. “You know, in football, different players step up at different times. What’s important is we got a big win. Will I work hard to play better next week? Absolutely. But we’re 3-0. Am I disappointed? Absolutely not.” A few minutes later, at his formal press conference, head coach Caden Daniel fields plenty of questions about his undefeated football team. “As I said earlier,” Daniel says in response to a redundant question, “we executed really well out there today against a tough football team. We have a few things to clean up, and we’ll be ready for Denver next Sunday.” “Coach,” Adam Javad says, raising his hand, “with the Broncos losing today, they’re 1-2 while you guys are 3-0. Despite all the hype about Peyton Manning, do you feel you guys are the favorites in that game? Has the team gotten to that point yet?” “I’ll leave that question for Vegas, I think. Everyone on this team is aware of Peyton Manning’s talent, regardless of his record. So it’s really independent of who’s the favorite going in or anything like that. We have to prepare for a football game, like any other week.” When the coaching staff shows up for film review Monday morning, it becomes clear this is not like any other week. Reviewing the Pittsburgh film shows more strength than weakness, a welcome development the Knights aren’t used to seeing. The coordinators develop their game plan with renewed confidence. After all, their team is 3-0 for a reason. Scheming against the Broncos inevitably stirs up conversation about Peyton Manning, and Merle Harden, predictably, seems the least concerned coach in the room. “If we can handle Aaron Rodgers, we can handle Peyton Manning,” he says. “That was last year,” an assistant coach says. “Yep, and we’re a year more experienced on defense. Don’t worry about Manning, gentlemen. For his sake, he better be practicing with pass rush in his face.” “He’s one of the best against the blitz, coach,” Coach Everett says. “Not against my blitzes he’s not.” Harden’s eyes fall on Everett with intensity. He won’t stand for anyone questioning his defense, especially someone on his own coaching staff. “Take it easy, Tom,” Daniel says. “It’s our job to outscore Peyton, not play against him. And I should speak for everyone when I say I have supreme confidence that the defensive game plan will keep Manning at bay.” He and Harden look at each other. Harden feels relieved and satisfied, thankful for the head coach’s respect. “Okay, let’s split up and get to work.” When players arrive for practice Tuesday, Harden has his defensive strategy perfected, at least in theory. The Knights will blitz often, usually from the middle, and play press coverage. With an effective blitz, any quick throw is likely intercepted, and the most likely outcome is a sack. The only danger is an ineffective blitz coupled with failed press coverage, which leads to an easy touchdown. Harden has received plenty of criticism for this strategy in the past, with many critics claiming it is too prone to being burned. In his college days, the critics were right, but those were college football players, amateurs. He coaches professionals now. Not surprisingly, Malik Rose is giddy to play press coverage for an entire game, and boastfully predicts two interceptions. The entire linebacking corps looks forward to frequent blitzes, as does Chet Ripka. “Five hundred dollars to whoever gets the most sacks on old man Peyton,” Sean Brock says on the practice field. “Fuckin’ A, Sean,” Zack Grantzinger says, “didn’t you hear about Bountygate this offseason?” “I’m talking about sacks, not injuries. Stop being a pussy.” The banter continues throughout the day, and more importantly, players leave the facility confident in their strategy with only one day of practice in the books. As the league looks ahead to week 4, the Knights/Broncos game absorbs a lot of hype involving various storylines. Denver’s two-game losing streak, Los Angeles’ hot start, age vs. youth, etc. CBS takes note and responds accordingly. When the distribution maps come out Wednesday, the late afternoon game in Denver is assigned to approximately 90% of TV markets in the country, essentially a national broadcast. CBS edits their week 4 advertisements to focus on Knights/Broncos as the “game of the week.” As practice week goes on and the physical aspect of preparation gives way to the mental side, Harden works closely with his defensive captain on the audibles and hot routes for which Manning is notorious. He begins practice Thursday by gathering the entire defense together and saying, “When he runs up to the line and starts jerking off with his hands and screaming voodoo nonsense, you do nothing. Don’t respond to any of his bullshit. If the formation shifts, if personnel adjust, then maybe we adjust with it. But if Peyton just gets up and shouts, you don’t do a fuckin’ thing.” A few hours later, Harden sits in the film room with Randall, Grantzinger, and Ripka. They study tape of Manning’s adjustments at the line of scrimmage. Wanting to make a point, Harden pauses the film. “Okay, now on this play, take a look at—” His speech halts and devolves into a fit of laughter. The players look confused until they glance at the screen; the film has frozen at an awkward moment that shows a hilarious contortion of Manning’s face. All four of them laugh. The laughter stops when Griswold “Flash” Johnson appears in the doorway. The rookie sees the still frame of film and the blank expression on his face doesn’t waver. He just stands there for a moment, and nobody else is sure what to say. “Fuck him,” Johnson finally says. “Fuck his audibles, fuck his commercials, fuck his injured neck. We’re gonna beat his ass.” He walks away, leaving his teammates and defensive coordinator in shock. Manning’s face no longer makes them laugh either. “A lot of anger inside that young man,” Harden says. The weather in Denver reaches seventy-two degrees just before kickoff. Sparse clouds interfere with an otherwise sunny day with a mild breeze—perfect football weather. From the press box, Chance Phillips views the field through an open window, though he’s too tense to enjoy the fresh air. Atypical for road games, Wayne Schneider sits next to him. “Can I say something?” Phillips says. “Shoot,” Schneider says, drinking a cup of seltzer water. “I’m nervous.” “Me too. But I feel confident, too. We have a good team this year.” “I agree, but just how good?” “I suppose we’re about to find out.” Fittingly, the Broncos get the ball first, and Peyton Manning stares down the Knights defense for the first time in his career. The Mile High crowd is amped up but knows to temper the decibels for their signal caller. Manning studies the defense and shouts audibles immediately. Briggs Randall stares him down, changing nothing to the defense. None of the Knights move an inch as the Broncos shift their tight ends around. Manning takes the snap. All four linebackers come on a blitz. Manning looks left and fires to Eric Decker in the flat; Richard Marshall is right on him. Decker makes the catch and is tackled for a two-yard gain. From the sideline, Harden calls another blitz. Manning hands off to Willis McGahee, who runs into a wall of blitzing linebackers for no gain. On third down, the Broncos line up with five receivers; the Knights stick to their 3-4 formation. Manning shouts more audibles, and Randall holds firm, adjusting nothing. Manning takes the snap, sees another blitz, and throws for Brandon Stokley in the slot. Griswold Johnson dives out of nowhere and swats the ball away. Three and out. Harden congratulates his defensive troops as they return to the bench. Not that he had any doubt, but his strategy can and will work. They just need the offense to score some points. Maverick and the Knights offense take the field with decent field position. Per an odd coincidence, Maverick uses the same strategy the Knights are trying to force their opponent into: quick passes. After throwing through a few tight windows, Maverick moves the chains with a nine-yard completion to Logan Bishop. In the huddle, Maverick relays the play-action call to his teammates. “Here we go, D-Jam. Six right here.” “Let’s do it, brother.” Maverick surveys the defense: man coverage, no blitz. He takes the snap and looks the safety off; pressure comes up the middle. There’s no way to go deep, so he throws to his checkdown in the flat. The ball lofts in the air too long and Chris Harris takes it the other way. Darren McFadden somehow runs him down, but the Broncos set up shop already in the red zone. “That one’s on me boys,” Maverick says back on the sideline. “We’ll get it back next drive.” Apparently feeding off the momentum, the Broncos reach the end zone in just three plays and take a 7-0 lead. “Unacceptable!” Harden shouts to his troops. “We’ve been practicing red zone defense all goddamn week. Don’t go soft on me, gentlemen.” Maverick sticks to his vow of avoiding turnovers, though the Knights offense is devoid of big plays. They manage to tilt the field position battle in their favor at the start of the second quarter, and Sebastian Janikowski gets them on the board with a forty-five-yard kick. 7-3, Broncos. The story is the same on the other side of the ball. Harden’s creative blitzing keeps Manning from hitting on any deep passes, though the Broncos convert a few third-and-longs thanks to missed tackles, causing louder shouts of disapproval from the sideline. The first half ticks away fast amidst a defensive battle until the Broncos have the ball at the two-minute warning. During commercial, Harden calls Randall over to the sideline. “I’ll kill myself before I run the prevent in this spot,” Harden says. “I know, coach.” “Just keep doing what you’re doing. It’s worked all half; no reason to abandon it now.” “Yes, sir.” Randall obeys, but Manning moves the chains anyway. Operating quickly, Manning finds the short completions he has employed all game, getting first downs but using a lot of time. By the time the clock reaches the final minute, the Broncos face third and four. Randall hears Harden’s play call and relays it to his teammates as fast as possible. “Omaha! Hut!” Grantzinger and Brock bite on the hard count, and Manning audibles, having sniffed out the outside blitz. Randall tries to keep from smiling and backs off a step. Manning snaps it. Randall and Connor blitz from the inside as the outside linebackers drop off into the flat. Connor breaks through and Manning fires toward the sideline—Grantzinger leaps up, snatches it out of the air, and takes off the other way. McGahee runs him down and makes a laughable attempt to tackle him before he reaches the end zone. 10-7, Knights. Grantzinger gets mobbed on the sidelines by his teammates, while Daniel seeks out his defensive coordinator. “That’s a great looking blitz, coach.” “Thank you, sir.” “Only now, Peyton gets all of halftime to look at it.” “No problem. So do we.” Fifteen minutes of halftime adjustments later, both offenses come out firing. Daniel runs plays exclusively from the shotgun, desperate to connect on some passes beyond ten yards. Maverick makes some impressive throws that put the Knights in the red zone. Rahim Moore drops an interception, and Maverick makes him pay on the subsequent play, connecting with Alex Johnson on a wheel route for a touchdown. 17-7, Knights. The Broncos employ jumbo packages to block L.A.’s blitzes and run the ball more frequently. The run game is surprisingly effective, and just as Denver reaches field goal range, Manning finds Demaryius Thomas in the end zone, wide open thanks to Griswold Johnson biting on a double move. 17-14, Knights. Johnson pouts on the sideline as the stadium celebrates, and Harden gives the rookie an earful. Daniel keeps his foot on the gas. The Knights convert on a few third downs, and a perfectly timed screen pass to McFadden gets them in field goal range. Daniel runs another screen, this one a receiver screen to Wilkes, and he breaks a few tackles en route to the end zone. 24-14, Knights. During the commercial break following the end of the third quarter, Chet Ripka tries to motivate his teammates. The Broncos face third and eleven deep in their own territory; if the Knights can get a stop here, the offense can make it a three-score game and end it. This game seemed like a tall task all week, but a huge win is within reach. Just one more play. Ripka backs off as Manning takes the snap. Denver’s offensive line picks up the blitz. With time, Manning scans and fires deep. Ripka sees Thomas, covered by Rose, break over the middle towards him. He looks up as the players converge on the underthrown pass. Ripka has his hands ready, but someone runs into him. In a blink, Thomas is running free with the ball, no defenders in sight. 24-21, Knights. The Los Angeles sideline looks up at the replay and cringes at the sight of Malik Rose’s shoulder driving into Ripka’s helmet. Thankfully, Ripka jogs back to the sideline. He finds a seat on the bench and the doctors surround him. “You okay, Chet?” “I’m fine, just got dinged on the head.” “What the hell happened?” Harden says, joining the conversation. “Misjudged the ball,” Ripka says. “Caught Malik’s shoulder instead.” “Malik?” “Don’t know,” Rose says. “Thought I had it.” Unsatisfied and frustrated, Harden walks away. The big play he had feared finally struck. Thankfully, the Knights still have the lead, but for how much longer? The Knights take over with 7:33 to go, their most important possession of the day. Maverick moves the chains again, but lack of a run game prevents them from reaching the red zone. The clock does tick, though, and Janikowski boots through another field goal. 27-21, Knights, 3:18 to play. As Manning readies for the potential game-winning drive, coaches and players pace the Knights sideline with nervous stomachs. They’ve played a great game, but a six-point lead isn’t enough. Not against this quarterback. Ripka rejoins his teammates against the Broncos offense. Manning throws to Stokley on a receiver screen. He cuts upfield for a first down. 3:09, 3:08… Manning hurries the pace a little. Harden sends a blitz, and Manning fires deep. Eric Decker beats Richard Marshall in coverage, but the bail sails out of bounds. The crowd exclaims in frustration, as Manning just missed the game-winner. From the sidelines, Coach Daniel watches helplessly. His team has changed and grown a lot since last season, but this feels like the same script: a tremendous offensive effort wasted by a defensive breakdown, resulting in a crippling loss. Daniel can’t stand that negativity, but he also can’t do anything to counter it. And to be fair, a 3-1 record (going into the bye week) is respectable, but the Knights have earned a victory today; they’ve earned a 4-0 record. Manning takes the snap and finds Decker in the flat. With Thomas blocking ahead, he cuts upfield for a first down. 2:55, 2:54… Manning goes no huddle and Randall relays the play call. He and Grantzinger show blitz. Manning takes the snap and looks right; both linebackers come up the middle. In coverage, Rose sees Thomas about to come for a stop route. Knowing the Knights are blitzing, he jumps the route. The pass comes flying in, and Rose doesn’t miss it. His momentum pushes him away from a diving Thomas, and no one catches him. The stadium goes dead, and the Knights take a 33-21 lead. Rose’s teammates smother him in congratulations that remind him of the Lions game against Megatron last year. Most proud of all is Coach Harden. “Out-fucking-standing. That’s stuff of legends right there, Malik. Game-winning play.” Meanwhile, the Knights miss the two-point conversion and have a twelve-point lead with 2:42 left. The sideline buzz doesn’t fade, and the Knights defense goes right back to work, limiting Manning to short passes that chew up the clock. It goes by quickly, but soon enough the Broncos face fourth down from midfield, 1:50 left. The Knights show blitz and back off, only rushing four. Manning stares down tight coverage, and Sam Luck breaks through off the edge. Manning goes down, and the Knights take over. Maverick takes snaps from the victory formation as the stadium empties. The Knights celebrate a big win, and with a bye next week, they have time to enjoy this one. Their presence has surely been announced now. Just months ago, the Broncos had used free agency to leap themselves into elite contention in the AFC, while the team in Los Angeles was a middling franchise stuck in rebuilding. Now, the biggest free agent signing in recent memory has led his team to a 1-3 record, while the Los Angeles Knights stand atop the division at 4-0. Welcome to the AFC West.

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Sixteen – O Captain, My Captain Five hours and nine minutes after takeoff, the private nonstop flight from Los Angeles lands at Miami International Airport. Fifty-three players and twenty-three coaches exit the plane and feel the sweltering heat and humidity of September in South Florida. Per Coach Daniel's policy, the team lodges at a hotel within ten minutes of the stadium. For Jonathan Maverick, this is unfortunate, as Sun Life Stadium is about halfway between Fort Lauderdale and Miami, a solid half hour from South Beach. Not that it ruins his plans—just inconveniences them. He didn't get to fully experience South Beach on the Knights' trip here last year, and he's fortunate to get a second chance this season. The Knights settle into the hotel and eating preparations are made. Several players arrange to see a movie after dinner. Somewhere in between, Maverick slips out and catches a cab, riding it south. Through connections he made last year, he bounces between several clubs in what turns out to be a blur of a night. Around midnight, a team staffer at the hotel listlessly walks the hallway. His shift is almost up, but he hears some commotion down the hall. He sees Maverick stumble out of the elevator and head his way. Technically, he's supposed to report any players out after curfew to a coach, but he knows Maverick's routines. The apparently intoxicated Maverick notices the staffer and somehow remembers what to do. He yanks his wallet from his pocket—almost falling over in the process—and pulls out a crumbled one hundred dollar bill. Twelve hours later, Maverick throws passes in pads against the sun as the stadium fills in slowly around him. The pre-game excitement sets in, but in a different way. He feels sluggish, as if he just woke up, and his headache won't go away. He tries to focus on the throws and push everything else aside. The minutes drag until kickoff, and when the Knights first take the field on offense, they're already down 3-0. Maverick takes the snap and looks left to Johnson, on a simple out route. He fires, and the pass falls way short, hitting the grass five yards in front of the receiver. "That's on me," Maverick says once in the huddle. "Don't worry about it," Johnson says. McFadden takes a handoff on second down and gets four yards. On third down, Maverick lines up in shotgun. He surveys the defense and takes the snap. After a short drop-back, he looks to Wilkes on his post route. The coverage seems tight, but he wants to throw the pass anyway. Cameron Wake slams him into the grass before he can make a decision. He's sure he's about to puke for a second, but an offensive lineman helps him up and he staggers to the sideline, where Coach Daniel waits. "Hard hit. You okay?" Daniel asks. "Fine," Maverick says. He takes a seat on the bench and Tom Everett, offensive coordinator, approaches with pictures in hand. "You had D-Jam wide open," Everett says. "What were you waiting for?" "Couldn't see him." "You were looking right at him." "What are you saying, coach?" "I'm saying when you look and see an open receiver, you throw him the ball." Meanwhile, the Knights defense can't get off the field. Despite a confident game plan, the Dolphins offense finds ways to get first downs. After an overthrow by Ryan Tannehill, Miami faces third and nine. Briggs Randall hears the play call and relays it to his teammates. He feels he's supposed to say something inspiring, fire them up somehow, but he just claps his hands, screaming, "Let's make a play!" Tannehill takes the snap and Randall covers the middle. Tight end Anthony Fasano runs his way and Randall picks him up in coverage, hoping Tannehill throws. Instead, he looks to the other side of the field and lofts a pass to Brian Hartline, who hauls it in against tight coverage for a twenty-yard gain. Randall feels dejected as he jogs to the new line of scrimmage, across midfield. "Okay, gentlemen," Coach Daniel says to his entire roster in the small auditorium of team headquarters, "our first preseason game is coming up, and it's time to vote on our captains. You know the drill." Per Daniel's custom, one he brought from UConn, official offensive and defensive captains are selected first, and then alternates separately. As assistant coaches pass out slips of paper and pencils, several Knights contemplate their vote. As a long tenured veteran on the team, Chet Ripka knows players usually look to him for these kinds of roles, as they did last year. But Briggs has really come along in understanding the playbook; it's his time to be captain. Hopefully the rest of the team realizes that. Rookie Griswold Johnson contemplates that very decision a few rows behind Ripka. He's new to the team, and he has noticed Randall's command of the playbook, but he doesn't really seem like a leader. He pencils in Ripka as his vote. In the last row, Brian Penner doesn't contemplate anything. To him, the vote for offensive captain should be obvious to everyone. He pencils in the name without hesitation. Towards the front, Maverick unknowingly agrees with Penner's thinking, at least in principle: the offensive captain should be obvious. He's been in the league two years, he knows the playbook, he knows the coaches. He's the quarterback, and that makes him the captain. With three minutes to play in the fourth quarter, the Knights hold a 20-13 lead. Their ineffective offense has managed to take advantage of Miami turnovers, but not much else. Second and nine. Maverick studies the defense, more alert than ever. Over the course of the game, he has felt progressively better, and he's ready to end this game and go home 2-0. He takes the snap from shotgun, fakes a handoff to Jaxson, and looks deep. The safeties bite on play-action, and Wilkes breaks on his post route, the middle of the field wide open. Maverick throws for the would-be touchdown, but the pass is horribly off target. Wilkes adjusts and spins to catch the throw behind him, but Reshad Jones is there to intercept it. He runs back across midfield as the stadium erupts in celebration. Jones makes it to the Los Angeles thirty-eight before some linemen bring him down. Maverick, head down, can't find the bench before a hysterical Wilkes accosts him. He takes a seat anyway. "What the fuck was that, Mav?" Wilkes shouts. "What the fuck? Wide fuckin' open to end the game!" Maverick looks stoic, but dejected. Wilkes crouches down and gets in his face. "What's the matter with you? That's two weeks in a row you've tried to lose the damn game!" "That's enough," Penner says, coming between the two. "Man, this is bullshit!" "Enough, D-Jam. Sit the fuck down." Clearly unsatisfied but smart enough not to fight with Penner, Wilkes retreats to his own spot on the bench. On the field, Randall gets the defense in a huddle during a commercial break. The Dolphins are only thirty-eight yards away from a game-tying touchdown. "I don't want to see anybody look nervous," Randall says. "We've dominated these guys all day. They can't score on us. So let's shut this thing down and enjoy a nice celebration on the flight home. Let's go!" The Knights line up in their 3-4 formation against Miami's three-receiver set. Tannehill takes the snap from shotgun and looks; no one's open. Brock comes off the edge and flushes Tannehill out of the pocket; he throws it away. Second and ten. Grantzinger finds a hole up the middle and comes free on the rush, forcing Tannehill to throw early, to no one in particular. The pass falls incomplete. Third and ten. The Knights show blitz but back off. Tannehill has a clean pocket and looks, looks, looks. Nothing. Finally, he bombs it to the end zone, where Davone Bess is double covered. The pass sails out of the end zone. "One more play!" Randall screams as the players line up for fourth down. "One more play!" Tannehill takes another shotgun snap, looks, and again, nobody's open. He steps up to bomb it, but Grantzinger gets his hand on the ball. Tannehill clutches it, and Brock comes in to complete the sack. Also blitzing, Randall raises his arm in the air and runs back to the sideline in celebration. The Knights run out the clock and go into the locker room with a 2-0 record. While most players celebrate, Maverick slowly dresses, not in the mood for a party. He notices, though, when Penner walks by and gets up. "Hey, Brian." "What's up, Mav?" "Thanks for the help back there, on the bench, with D-Jam." "You know I got your back. However…" Penner looks around to make sure no one's listening, leans in, and speaks softly. "You ever show up for a game hungover again, and I'll break your fucking neck. You want to party? Do it in March. We don’t have time for that shit.” Maverick nods. The Knights coaching staff gathers in the conference room for Daniel to deliver the final count. "Gentlemen, our players have spoken. Our offensive and defensive captains are Brian Penner and Briggs Randall." "How close was the voting?" an assistant coach asks. "Very. Maverick and Ripka should be alternates with how many votes they got." "Coach, if I may," Coach Everett says, "I think we should deliver the news to Penner privately before announcing it to the team." Chance Phillips sits at the table, and he's not sure why Everett is suggesting this. He watches Daniel's response closely. "I don't see a problem with that. Coach," he says, addressing Harden, "any qualms about Randall as defensive captain?" Phillips feels apprehensive about the word "qualm." Harden doesn't move from his reclined position. "None whatsoever." The NFL can't help but overreact after week one, but every claim is always followed by, "…having said that, it's only one week." Barring something rare, everyone is either undefeated or winless. After two weeks, talk starts to get serious about teams who are 2-0 and 0-2. Which 0-2 team needs to bounce back? Which 2-0 team is a pretender? Such discussions are had about the Knights, but nobody inside team headquarters seems to notice. The week of preparation for the 1-1 Steelers proceeds without extremes. Coach Daniel delivers no extra speeches of commendation, and nobody runs extra suicides for any reason. With Thursday’s practice nearly done, Maverick takes a break and Chad Henne gets some reps with the first team offense. On the sideline, Jefferspin-Wilkes sees an opportunity to bust balls. “Better watch out, Mav,” Wilkes says, “Henne keeps throwing like that, you might be out of a job.” Maverick scoffs. “D-Jam, please. At least they didn’t find some scrub rookie for me to develop. Not wasting my time on that bullshit.” “You’re right. Besides, who would want to learn from you, anyway?” Maverick says nothing, taking more sips from a water bottle. Soon enough, practice ends, and the Knights dress and leave the locker room. Once it’s mostly empty, Briggs Randall seeks out a teammate. "Chet, can I talk to you for a second?" A mostly dressed Ripka surveys the locker room; most Knights have already left for the day. "Sure. What's on your mind, kid?" "Well, since I was voted captain this year, I wanted to step up." "And you have. Mastering the playbook after one year isn’t easy." "I know, but, I want to do more. You know, be a leader and all. So far, I'm not sure I'm doing that. Actually, I'm not sure I know how." Ripka thinks, not sure how to word what he wants to say. "You played with Urlacher, right? How was he?" "First of all,” Ripka says, “that defense had a lot of great players. Second, he was intense, but in a quiet way." "See, that sounds more like me." “And there’s nothing wrong with that. Let me tell you something, Briggs. Leadership isn’t about jumping around, all that Ray Lewis rah-rah stuff. Leadership is about leading by example. Leadership is about your teammates looking at you and saying, ‘That’s exactly how the game is supposed to be played.’ So don’t put extra pressure on yourself; just do your job, and the rest should fall into place.” "Okay, that makes sense. Thanks a lot, Chet." "See you tomorrow, kid." Sunday arrives, and Farmers Field fills for an undefeated home team. Chance Phillips breaks routine and wanders the field, eager to see old colleagues. It's a sentimental battle for him, facing the team where he built his resume. Through a crowd of players, coaches, and cameras, Phillips finds Kevin Colbert, his old boss. "Kevin!" Colbert spots his former protégé, and the two shake hands and embrace. "Great to see you, Chance." "Welcome to Farmers Field. Like the place?" "Magnificent. Even better in person. Congratulations on the 2-0 record. Off to a good start this year." "Maybe, but there's still fourteen games to go. We'll see what happens." Less than a minute remains in an extremely contentious first half. Poor officiating by the replacement refs has frustrated players on both sides and escalated tension. The Knights hold a 7-6 lead and operate the no-huddle offense in an attempt to add more before halftime. Maverick drops back and finds Bishop on an out route. He runs out of bounds, stopping the clock at 0:52. Maverick hurries everyone up to the line of scrimmage, eager to keep up the pace. He signals for the shotgun snap, and whistles blow everything dead. The referees need a conference, it seems. Farmers Field collectively boos the refs, not for the first time. "C'mon!" Maverick yells, walking towards the refs. "You're fucking up the momentum. Get it together!" The refs break up the conference and wind the clock; nothing changes regarding the game. A rattled Maverick takes the snap and looks—pressure forces him up the middle, and he has nowhere to go but run. He jukes a linebacker and crosses midfield. In the open field with defenders closing, he slides to the grass and takes a late hit. Maverick props up looking for a flag. "Where's the call? Where's the call?" A nearby referee attempts to explain the non-call, and Penner joins the conversation. "C'mon, refs, that's way late!" "Quit your bitching, pussy," a Steeler linebacker says to Maverick. "Oh, fuck you too!" Maverick forgets the ref and gets in the defender's face. The linebacker shoves him backward. Penner jumps in and shoves back. A crowd gathers and the refs fail to separate anybody. No punches are thrown, though a few players exchange healthy shoves, along with plenty of obscenities, and then a flag finally goes flying. The chaos takes minutes to sort out, the game clock frozen all the while at 0:35; it had run a few extra seconds while the fracas developed. Finally, two personal fouls are called, both on the Knights. Another round of boos commences as Coach Daniel pleads the case for offsetting penalties to the refs; this takes another few minutes. Play resumes with the Knights backed up in their own territory, so Daniel decides to just take a 7-6 lead into the half. Penner snaps the ball to Maverick, who takes a knee, and Penner looks for more. "Leave your vaginas in the locker room before you come out in the second half, pussies." This gathers another crowd, and Maverick wastes no time getting involved. The boos (directed at the refs) turn to cheers for another fight. It's all pushing and shoving, and despite players from the sideline getting involved, cooler heads prevail, and the teams head to their respective locker rooms. By request, Brian Penner heads to Coach Daniel's office. Daniel sits in his chair and leans on the desk. "You wanted to see me, coach." "Come in," Daniel says. Penner isn't sure if he should sit down, so he stays standing. "Let's get to the point. Congratulations, Brian. You've been voted offensive captain this year." Penner looks confused. "What do you mean?" "You got the most votes," Everett says. "No." "No?" Daniel says. "What’s the problem, Brian?” "Maverick is the captain, coach." "So you're saying you don't want to be captain?" "That's correct, coach." Daniel and Everett look at each other; Everett suppresses a grin. "Well, actually," Daniel says, "Maverick got the second most votes, so if you don't want the title, it should pass to him." "Brian," Everett says, "do you think this is the best decision for the offense? For the team?" "Absolutely." Daniel and Everett share another look. This meeting couldn't have gone better. "So be it," Daniel says. "Jonathan Maverick is our offensive captain. He received the most votes. We have an understanding, Brian?" "Yes, sir." The Knights come out in the second half with a pass-first offense. Maverick delivers the ball quickly, and Penner mixes it up with Casey Hampton long after the ball has gone. They reach midfield on a third and nine when Maverick drops back. Wilkes and Johnson are covered. He looks for Bishop, but a pass rusher obstructs his vision. Seeing no escape, he runs for it. He jukes Larry Foote in the open field and gets yardage for a first down. With defenders closing in, he doesn't bother sliding, lowers his shoulders, and absorbs a crunching hit from Ryan Clark. Maverick pops right back up and tosses the ref the ball. The next play, Maverick is forced from the pocket again and picks up eleven yards before taking another hit. The Knights are on the edge of the red zone. Maverick takes a shotgun snap and looks up the middle. A pass rusher comes free. Maverick sees Bishop about to break open, steps up, throws, and takes a big hit. He stays on the ground for a second and hears the stadium roar for a touchdown. Penner picks him up. "Nice throw, asshole," Penner screams against the crowd noise. "Nice protection." "Don't worry, we'll get 'em back on the next series." Into the fourth quarter, the Knights lead 21-6. While Maverick has been lighting up the highlight reel, Harden's defense has suffocated Pittsburgh's offense. Ben Roethlisberger hasn't found any receivers downfield and has been sacked four times. In the secondary, Malik Rose enjoys a dominating performance against the team that drafted him—and traded him. Covering Mike Wallace on deep routes has been easy, and Wallace's trash talk has been enjoyable. Isaac Redman catches a screen out of the backfield and runs upfield. He makes the mistake of juking back to the middle of the field, and Randall promptly punishes him with a vicious hit. Redman takes a second to get up. Randall, though, just walks back for the next play. He takes in the congratulatory slaps and fist bumps but says nothing. He looks back to the secondary, and Ripka gives him a look that, through the facemask, Randall's pretty sure he can interpret. Way to go, kid. Facing third down, Roethlisberger looks deep. Mike Wallace breaks for the end zone and Rose runs with him. Roethlisberger hurls it into the air and takes a hit. Rose tracks the ball, maintains position on Wallace, and jumps for it. They both get their hands on the ball, but Rose's grip prevails, and he comes down with the interception, albeit at the two-yard line. Rose jumps in celebration, and Randall is first to congratulate him. The crowd noise reaches deafening levels as the offense takes the field and continues through the commercial break. The offensive huddle forms and Maverick takes charge. "We gotta run some clock, but let's do it with complete passes. Ninety-eight yards, let's get every damn one of them and end this thing. Alright? Oh, and silent snap count. Let the crowd keep it up." Maverick calls the play, the commercial ends, and the offense sets up on their own two. Maverick raises his arms, enticing more crowd noise. From the sidelines, the coaching staff looks on in shock. "Coach," Everett says to Daniel, "you ever see a quarterback do that?" "Never in the NFL." Four first downs and fifty-two yards later, the Knights face third and three. Maverick hands off to Jaxson, who breaks a tackle and gets hit very close to the first down line. After prolonged deliberation, the referees signal fourth down. Daniel is about to signal the punt team, but Maverick is already shouting out a play call. "Timeout, coach?" Everett asks. "No. Let him do it." Maverick sets the formation as the Steelers hurriedly try to set up. Pittsburgh hesitates to waste a timeout; they'll need them if they hold here and have a two-possession game. Maverick fakes a handoff to Jaxson and rolls left. Everyone bites on the play-action, and he runs through green grass into first down territory. Wanting to keep the clock running, Maverick stays in bounds. Ryan Clark closes in again. Fuck it. Maverick lowers his shoulders and plows Clark to the ground. He falls forward for an extra five yards, and the crowd goes wild. Coach Daniel dials up another passing play despite his inclination to run out the final eight minutes. Maverick takes the snap and looks left. Johnson looks covered on a wheel route, but Maverick fires into the gap between the corner and safety. The bullet pass splits both defenders and hits Johnson in stride as he crosses the goal line. Maverick jumps as high as he can, and Penner holds him up. The entire offensive line mobs him in celebration. He jogs back to the sideline, in full party mode as the field goal unit comes on for the extra point. Maverick soaks in the adulation for a perfect pass. After it passes and the Knights defense takes the field with a 28-6 lead, Maverick traverses the sideline and high fives his offense, one by one. From his usual corner end zone seat, Jay Cooper boos the Steelers offense with renewed energy and an incredible sense of relief. After following the lowly Raiders for years and scoring inaugural season tickets at Farmers Field, he finally cheers for a winning team.

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Fifteen – Kings Among Knights Football is back. The weekly injury reports, pre-game shows, and fan hype have finally returned after an offseason that felt even longer than the last one. Los Angeles Knights fans file into Farmers Field, its postmodern architecture and complex seat structure feeling new, as if the stadium just opened. In some ways, perhaps it has. The Knights and Chargers kick off the second game of a Monday Night Football doubleheader. They are the last two teams to play in week one, and the league has already spent twenty four hours obsessing over Peyton Manning’s triumphant return against the Steelers on Sunday Night Football. But while most fans are already looking at week two, the Knights and Chargers have waited eight months for tonight’s game. Jonathan Maverick lines up under center for the season’s first play from scrimmage, a play call he has anticipated for weeks. He takes the snap, fakes a handoff to Darren McFadden, and looks over the middle. He fires into an opening, and Logan Bishop cuts into the lane. The ball hits him in the numbers and he goes down for a twelve-yard gain. Perfect timing. Over the next few plays, the Knights continue to move the ball and Maverick doesn’t miss a pass. He relishes his comfort with his receivers and the game, still remembering the overwhelming speed of week one last year. This season will be totally different. The offseason gave Maverick a lot of time to reflect on what he perceives as an underwhelming career so far, but one analogy got him through it: in college terms, this is his junior year. He didn’t hit the big time until junior year at Penn State—didn’t even start as a freshman. So anyone who wants to call him a bust is about to be proven wrong in a big way. In firm control of the offense, Maverick leads the Knights into field goal range, but pass rush forces him from the pocket on consecutive plays, and the drive stalls. As the field goal team takes the field, the offense returns to a tense atmosphere on the sidelines. For the next few hours, both teams are undefeated, and anything that has been said and debated about their season is meaningless; everything can change with one game. By summer, all significant transactions of the NFL’s offseason have occurred. Training camp always provides a few injuries, and roster cuts in August may yield the occasional surprise, but for the most part, everyone knows who the good teams are. That means it’s a great time for predictions. The Super Bowl picks include the usual suspects, a Packers/Patriots game being the most common matchup. In the AFC West, predictions for division winner alternate between the Chargers and Broncos, with Peyton Manning’s health and ability a very intriguing collective question mark. Both teams also come up in AFC wild card discussions. The Knights are left out of all prominent predictions. The national consensus seems to be that even continued improvement from a rebuilding franchise won’t be enough to make the playoffs. They simply aren’t talented enough. Local beat writer Adam Javad predicts an 8-8 season, claiming the Knights are “one season away from being where they want to be.” Javad catches some flak for this from Knights fans. One in particular says on Twitter, “December: the Knights of Andreas have arrived. Six months later: the Knights of Andreas will arrive in another year.” As of July 1, Las Vegas has the Knights at 70/1 to win Super Bowl XLII, the 19th-best odds in the league. The second quarter begins with Coach Harden’s defense on the field, defending a comfortable 10-0 lead. From the edge, Sean Brock stares down Michael Harris, the poor soul San Diego believes is their best left tackle. Phillip Rivers takes the snap and Brock blows around Harris. He forces Rivers to step up and hurry a throw that lands incomplete. Though he has yet to notch a sack, Brock has hit Rivers twice and plans on tormenting him all night. This game is the beginning of a critical season for Brock, in a contract year. The big payday is only months away, so he needs to go all out this season. He can’t screw it up. On the other side of the box, Zack Grantzinger has been all over the field. He was giddy in OTAs when Coach Harden told him he wanted him “to do absolutely everything” on defense this year. So far, he’s been in the backfield, holding the line of scrimmage, and in coverage, excelling everywhere. Lining up next to him on most plays, Sam Luck handles his own in the trenches. He enjoyed a breakout performance against San Diego’s offensive line last year, and he’s happy to see them again. Together, Luck and Grantzinger prove too much for the right side of the Chargers’ offensive line to handle. Third and nine. Rivers takes a snap from shotgun as the Knights show blitz. The outside linebackers back off, and Luck ends up double-teamed. Rivers throws over the middle, but Grantzinger spins around and deflects the ball with one hand. Fourth down. Coach Harden emphatically congratulates his defense as they return to the bench. The regular season is weeks away, not months. The Knights coaching staff gathers to watch film on the team’s third preseason game, the first half of which was a de facto dress rehearsal for the regular season. At the moment, Coach Daniel seems concerned with something on defense. “Focus on Brock here, coach,” Daniel says to Harden as he winds the film. Brock drops back in coverage apathetically, allowing his man to run by him easily. The quarterback focuses on the opposite side of the field, unaware of the wide-open receiver on Brock’s side. “We’re still working on that,” Harden says. “All due respect, coach, Brock is a starter. If this is going to be a pattern, we need to do something about it. And let’s not pretend his coverage skills are so great even when he does try.” “Trust me on this, coach. Week one comes around, any concern about pass rush is going to go out the window.” Harden doesn’t enjoy debating Daniel on this subject, especially in front of other coaches, but he won’t back down either. He knows Brock only plays one hundred percent when he’s rushing the passer, but at the same time, he can’t fault the kid for wanting to play to his strengths. And as a coach, it’s Harden’s job to make sure he does so as much as possible. Now leading 10-3, the Knights have the ball with less than two minutes to play and all three timeouts. Two-minute drill. Maverick takes the snap from a double-tight end set. He spots Johnson open on a curl route but waits another second, sees Bishop running a corner, and fires. The ball sails perfectly into Bishop’s hands. Eric Weddle tackles him before he can get out of bounds. Alex Johnson lines up, sees Maverick call the play, and runs the appropriate corner-post route, a favorite of his. The safety bites on the corner just enough to give Johnson separation. He looks up and sees the pass already heading his way. He catches it in stride and gets tackled from behind. He gets up, gives Maverick a “nice throw” point, and gets back in formation. Now in Chargers territory with plenty of time to spare, the Knights take their time setting the next play. The lack of urgency frustrates Da’Jamiroquai Jefferspin-Wilkes; he wants to go deep and burn the defense right now. He is relieved, however, to hear Maverick signal just that: go deep. Maverick snaps it as the clock ticks under a minute. Wilkes sprints toward the end zone and Weddle picks him up. In the pocket, Maverick sees pressure come up the middle. Nowhere to go, he heaves the ball downfield and absorbs a hit. Wilkes and Weddle run stride for stride as Wilkes sees the underthrown pass. He slows down for it and jumps in the air. Weddle jumps too, but Wilkes is too tall for him. He corrals the pass at the top of his jump and falls to the grass with a thud. It hurts, but he trots back up, spikes the ball, and runs back to formation. Knights ball on the ten-yard line. Wanting to score with as little time left as possible, Coach Daniel lets the clock wind before calling timeout with 0:30 left. Without changing any personnel, the Knights set up shop with Maverick under shotgun again, this time in a bunch formation. Bishop lines up next to the left tackle. As Maverick takes the snap for play-action, Bishop heads through a crowd of receivers and cornerbacks towards the flat. He emerges open, and Maverick flings it to him. Bishop makes the catch, sees a defender heading for him, and delivers a prompt stiff arm to the face. The would-be tackler falls to the ground, and Bishop runs into the end zone without further contact. Bishop receives a healthy round of high fives on the sideline, especially from his head coach. A minute later, Phillip Rivers takes a knee, and the Knights take a 17-3 lead into the locker room. A week into training camp, the Knights offense runs plays from various double tight end formations. From the sidelines, Coach Daniel watches intently; he knows such formations will be a cornerstone of the offense this year. In his first years at the University of Connecticut, Daniel’s recruiting classes turned out perfectly, providing him a plethora of talented wide receivers to run plenty of four- and five-wide formations. The personnel in Los Angeles hasn’t quite shaped up that way. Through free agency and the draft, the Knights were unable to add a viable slot receiver, leaving them with nowhere near the depth Daniel would like. He does, however, have exceptional depth at tight end. Logan Bishop may have gotten a lot of press for “the earthquake reception,” but he is slowly emerging as an every-down tight end. His blocking skills are far superior to Zach Miller, and as a solid possession receiver, he brings value in the passing game as well. Daniel focuses on him as the offense runs quick passing plays; Bishop catches everything thrown his way. As head coach, it is Daniel’s job to adjust the offense based on personnel, not the other way around. This season, the Knights will run more bunch formations and spread the field less. Daniel was hesitant to such a change going into OTAs, but the evident skill of rookie guards Chase Grodd and Kevin Zeitler means the Darren McFadden/Jerome Jaxson tandem finally has room to run. Daniel and the Knights should, at long last, be able to set up a formidable pass game by establishing the run. Down two touchdowns and only a field goal to show for their offensive efforts so far, the Chargers come out firing in the second half—just what Malik Rose wants. Now that Vincent Jackson is a Buccaneer, San Diego’s biggest threat at wide receiver is Malcolm Floyd, someone Rose could cover with broken ribs. The Chargers have occasionally swapped and sent Danario Alexander to Rose’s side of the field, which is borderline insulting. Rose has yet to allow a single catch. Floyd runs his routes aggressively, but he is no match for Rose. Rivers goes elsewhere with the football and manages to get a few first downs while Rose’s dominance continues. After another first down, Rivers looks to Floyd on an out route. Rose undercuts the route and Rivers foolishly throws the pass. Rose jumps for an easy interception, but Floyd grabs his facemask, twists his head, and breaks up the pass. The nearby ref throws an easy flag for offensive pass interference. Angry, Rose bounces up and gets right in Floyd’s face. “What?” Floyd says. Rose presses his helmet against Floyd’s but says nothing, and the ref gets between the two. Rose walks back to the middle of the field for the call. Nearby, Chet Ripka is thankful he didn’t have to break up something worse. Ripka wouldn’t have been surprised if Rose had a few words for Floyd there, especially if the replacement refs got the call wrong. Ripka walks back to hear the next play call from Briggs Randall, which places him in a familiar place. So far tonight, Ripka has spent most of his time in the box supplementing the run defense. He has blitzed occasionally and, on a series of unfortunate occasions, been stuck covering Antonio Gates. But overall, he is no longer asked to hold things over the top. Rivers takes the snap and hands off to Ryan Mathews, who finds a hole in the offensive line. He jukes Randall but can’t dodge a diving Ripka, who pummels him into the ground. As the Chargers line up for third down, Ripka enjoys a round of praise from his teammates. His coverage skills may not be the same, but he still knows how to deliver punishing tackles. Ripka prepares to cover the middle on third down. Rivers looks, steps up with pressure around him, and throws deep. Ripka turns and sees Griswold Johnson, the team’s rookie free safety, trailing Malcolm Floyd, who catches the slightly underthrown pass before Johnson brings him down. The forty-yard gain silences the crowd and gives the Chargers life. By the second week of training camp, the players have fallen into a rhythm, gotten used to the coaches, and things are beginning to take shape. Most Knights already know the coaching staff, of course, but something always changes from year to year. No football team ever repeats exactly what they did the previous season. On the defensive side of the ball, Coach Harden makes adjustments based on a very coveted rookie he was fortunate to land in the draft: Griswold “Flash” Johnson, free safety. Harden knows he will struggle to cover NFL receivers initially, but he has the recovery speed to make up for it. And that means a different role for another member of the defense, a veteran he respects immensely. The horn sounds, ending a day’s work, and the players disperse. Harden finds Ripka and asks to see him after he dresses. Ripka agrees. Thirty minutes later, the two convene in a seldom-used office in team headquarters. “So how are you, coach?” Ripka says. He knows what Harden wants to talk about; nothing wrong with a little small talk first. “How’s Melinda?” “She’s good, Chet. Good. How’s the married life on your end?” “It’s good. The kids, you know, they handled to move out here pretty well, and things are all settled down now.” “Good to hear.” “Yeah. So, what’d you want to see me about?” “I think you know. You’ve seen Flash out there, right?” “Sure have. He’s talented.” “He is. More importantly, he’s fast as hell. Some free safety he’ll be if he can develop in other areas.” “I don’t disagree, coach.” Harden sighs and takes off his cap, revealing a hairline that has receded a bit since the conclusion of last season. “Look, Chet, let’s both be honest here. Flash is gonna do what you did last year, in terms of coverage over the top, because, you…” “It’s okay, coach. I understand.” “Regardless, you are still an important part of this defense. But I plan on using your talents in other areas. Using you more in run support lets me blitz more people, which, as you know, I enjoy doing.” “Sounds good.” “But you’re still going to have to cover people. So don’t go getting old on me.” “Understood.” As some more small talk rounds out the conversation, Ripka thinks of his family: both his grandfather and great-grandfather died at 71. Ripka is 34. So, theoretically, his life should only be at its halfway point. It sure doesn’t feel that way. As the third quarter ticks away, the Knights take over deep in their own territory nursing a 24-10 lead. The only non-quarterback who touches the ball every play, Brian Penner, looks forward to a long drive that milks a lot of clock. The Knights have passed more than run today, but when they have run the ball, it’s been beautiful. Penner snaps the ball to Maverick and pushes forward. With rookies on either side of him, Penner and the offensive line get a big push, paving the way for McFadden, who goes five yards before being touched. Second and three. McFadden takes another handoff with another huge hole. He gets a first down before contact, then gets another four yards. This may already be the best offensive line Penner has played on. Chase Grodd and Kevin Zeitler have a lot to learn in pass protection, but they’re already maulers in the run game. There will be no more shortcomings in the trenches this year; the Knights will pummel their opponents into submission at the line of scrimmage. Maverick hands off to McFadden again. Penner reaches the second level, plows a helpless linebacker to the dirt, and McFadden exploits the hole for a nine-yard gain. The referees blow their whistles and play halts. Players traverse the field for the fourth quarter. The final day of training camp, the Knights’ head coach and defensive coordinator monitor from the sidelines as their players run through drills in pads. “You know,” Daniel says, “this is something I noticed last year, but somehow I didn’t register that it would stick. We barely have any padded practices.” “Yep, I’ve noticed too,” Harden says. “That damn new CBA. What can you do, though, right?” “Amen.” “Just need to be more efficient in practice, I guess. You know what I’m talking about.” Harden knows exactly what he’s talking about, and he has no intention of discussing it in detail. “Speaking of,” Daniel continues, “I hope we don’t have any tackling issues come week one. With the limited practices we have in pads and all.” “My defense knows how to tackle, coach. I have faith in our conditioning program.” “In terms of efficiency, so do I. But in terms of volume? We won’t know until we get to that first game. Until the fourth quarter.” With five minutes to go, the Knights have a 27-13 lead and a stranglehold on the game. Maverick lines up for second and goal from the six. He fakes a handoff to McFadden and looks for the kill shot. Zach Miller breaks on a corner, but he’s covered. Maverick spots Bishop open, throws it, and Weddle comes of nowhere. His momentum carries him out of the end zone and past diving Knights, into open grass. He treks the length of the field for a one hundred and three-yard interception touchdown. Sulking back to the sideline, Maverick flips over a table holding two containers of Gatorade, spraying orange and purple all over the ground. Eric fucking Weddle. A few minutes later, the Knights get the ball again, this time with a nervous silence in the air. Victory seemed imminent a moment ago; now the Knights hold a very fragile 27-20 lead. To let it slip away in this game, the season’s first game, against a divisional opponent, would be the worst possible indication that 2012 will be just like 2011, and that there is no hope on the horizon after all. With McFadden still sucking air, Coach Daniel subs in Jerome Jaxson, whose carries have been limited so far. Jaxson lines up in the backfield, takes a handoff, doesn’t see a hole, hesitates, and is swarmed by linebackers for a one-yard loss. The clock ticks as the Knights line up again. Daniel sticks to his conservative, clock-milking approach, and Jaxson gets the ball on a toss. He spots a hole, lowers his shoulders, and goes down for a one-yard gain. As soon as he gets up, he knows he made a mistake. That was a huge hole; why didn’t he just bolt through it? He retreats to the huddle, where Maverick calls a passing play. Maverick takes the snap and Jaxson runs to the flat, uncovered. Maverick spots him, pump fakes, and looks upfield. Seeing no options, Maverick tucks the ball and runs for a few yards, well short of a first down. San Diego calls timeout with 2:38 to go, about to get the ball back. Jaxson keeps his head down and finds a spot on the bench. A solid punt by Shane Lechler pins the Chargers on their own nineteen, though they have 2:30 to play and three timeouts. Briggs Randall studies Rivers as he calls audibles against the crowd noise. Though extremely nervous, the Farmers Field crowd gets loud for what they hope is the final defensive stand. Randall sees Rivers make a familiar gesture and goes with his instinct. The Chargers snap the ball—no time to adjust the defense—Randall blitzes towards the right side. Rivers looks right, then turns left for the screen to Mathews. He throws, and Randall darts through linemen to intercept the pass, waltzing into the end zone. Touchdown, Knights. The crowd goes wild, victory now reclaimed just as quickly as it was thrown in jeopardy. A Sebastian Janikowski extra point makes it 34-20. June 11. After a Saturday night at the movies with the family, the kids are in bed, as is Melissa. Chance is about to head there himself. He shuts off the TV and moves towards the stairs—thunderous booms outside surprise him. What the hell? That didn’t sound like gunfire. He hears more booms and cracks. His panic subsides. Fireworks. It’s just fireworks. But what’s so special about a random Monday night in June? Before he can think about it, his phone rings; it’s Schneider. “Wayne? What’s going on?” “Turn on NBC.” Chance does so without a thought, the fireworks still exploding in the distance. He sees men in black jerseys celebrating on ice. The Los Angeles Kings skate around the rink, the apparent Stanley Cup champions. The arena around them booms with applause from the home fans. “Are you seeing it?” Schneider asks. “Yeah, I see it. That’s great for the city.” “I guess.” “You sound dejected, Wayne.” “I mean, I should be happy for this. Good for the city, like you said. I just—I wanted us to be the ones to bring a championship back to L.A., you know?” “I understand. But we will be the ones to bring a Super Bowl back.” “When, Chance? When, exactly?” “Soon. Very soon.” Chance isn’t sure if he’s lying or not.

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Fourteen – War Room As Commissioner Goodell walks to the podium and announces the first picks of the 2012 NFL Draft, the Radio City Music Hall crowd reacts modestly. The first five players come off the board without surprise. At any moment, though, a shocking trade or draft choice could send everything into bedlam. Just before Goodell walks across the stage, each draft pick is recorded officially and disseminated to all thirty-two NFL teams and their respective locations across the country, including the war room in Los Angeles, three thousand miles away. At the head of a long table sit the general manager, owner, and head coach, dressed in their best suit/tie combination. Around them are scouts, coaches, and other front office personnel. A mounted television in an upper corner shows NFL Network’s draft coverage; right next to it, a digital clock ticks down from ten minutes. The second a pick is made official, the clock resets, and the Knights learn of the selection by telephone moments later. Every detail in the room, from the three-inch binders on the table to the big board of three hundred names on the wall, represents a culmination of months of scouting, research, and analysis. Chance Phillips has, at his disposal, every single prospect’s strengths, weaknesses, medical history, and where they project on the Knights roster (he has much of this memorized by now, of course). He also has his own personal research into draft trends and strategies across the NFL. He considers himself a draft specialist; this weekend is his offseason highlight. The Knights have eight overall selections in the draft, including the tenth overall pick and a third round compensatory selection (courtesy of Nnamdi Asomugha). Phillips has a lot of holes to fill, and he has a plan to do so. The picks come off the board until the Panthers are on the clock with the ninth pick; the Knights are on deck. “The pick is in,” says a man on the phone with New York. “It’s Kuechly.” It’s a moot point now, but Luke Kuechly drew heavy consideration from the Knights. Placing him next to Briggs Randall could create the league’s best inside linebacker tandem. But the Knights signed Dan Connor in free agency; the position isn’t a huge need. The digital clock resets to 10:00 and ticks down; the Knights are on the clock. This pick, of course, has been the subject of countless mock drafts over the last few months. A popular mock pick among media pundits is Memphis nose tackle Dontari Poe. Several uneducated mock drafts have mentioned Mississippi State defensive tackle Fletcher Cox or a trade up for USC offensive tackle Matt Kalil, two players at positions already filled for the Knights. As it happens, however, Phillips has no intention of making his pick right now. Phillips picks up the phone and dials another war room, three time zones away. “Howie, it’s Chance,” he says, referring to Howie Roseman, Philadelphia Eagles general manager. “Everything still good?...Great, let’s do it.” The Eagles have the sixteenth pick and have made their intention to trade up well known around the league, while the Knights have quietly expressed interest in trading down. Standard market value dictates the Eagles give up a third round pick, complicated by the trade Philadelphia made for DeMeco Ryans, in which they swapped third round picks with Houston, resulting in a lower selection. Per the arrangement, they’ll add a fifth round pick to even the deal. “Okay,” Phillips says to the war room, phone still in hand. “So we trade ten for sixteen, eighty-eight, and one-fifty-three.” From his southern California mansion, Jonathan Maverick makes his way through the crowd of partygoers toward the fridge. The night is young and the party is live, but many have gone quiet with his team on the clock. “I bet you guys they don’t draft me any help,” he says, eager to spice things up. “How much?” a partygoer asks. “A million bucks. Actually, how about this—this is better—if they draft an offensive lineman, I’ll do a double shot of tequila.” The crowd cheers in agreement. Maverick is a seasoned partier, but tequila is the one evil force that can get him truly fucked up. “Trade!” some people near the television announce. “They traded it!” “See?” Maverick says. “I guess we’re not drafting anybody at all. Figures.” The picks pass again as the Knights wait patiently. Phillips has accomplished his objective. “So, do we take our guy at sixteen?” Wayne Schneider asks. “Depends on if we get any other trade offers,” Phillips says. “Technically there are still two of our top guys on the board.” “Kansas City’s taking Poe!” “Make that one of our top guys.” With Dontari Poe off the board, the Knights’ top target is now the player who sits ninth on their big board. Normally, taking your ninth highest prospect with the tenth pick would be sensible, but Phillips has a strategy: play the league’s tendencies against itself. He knows his guy will still be there at sixteen. The Cardinals take Michael Floyd at fourteen, and the Rams take Michael Brockers at fifteen. The Knights are on the clock again. “Okay,” Phillips says, “we’ll wait five minutes for any trade offers and then make the pick.” A few scouts dig into the binders in front of them, as if they can still learn something new. Phillips knows better, counting down the minutes idly; being on the clock is typically a boring experience. The phone rings. It’s Cincinnati. “Chance Phillips…Hey, Mike, what’s on your mind?…That sounds fair. I gotta give it a few minutes, though. If I get any other offers, I’ll call you back. Otherwise I think you’ve got a deal…Okay.” He hangs up. “Cincy wants the pick; they’ll trade a third rounder for it.” “Fair compensation,” Paul DeMartine says. “Hold on now,” Schneider says. “Are we sure he’ll be there at—where is Cincy’s pick?” “Twenty-two,” Phillips says. “I think he will be. And even if he’s not, DeCastro is a fair consolation prize.” Everyone nods, apparently satisfied. The Knights’ clock ticks down. 6:25, 6:24, 6:23… The phone rings. It’s Chicago. “Chance Phillips…Hey, Phil…Well, I’ve got another offer on the table…Third round…Didn’t think so…Okay, thanks for the call, Phil.” He hangs up. “Chicago wanted to slide up a few spots but for nothing higher than a fourth.” 5:01, 5:00, 4:59… “Let’s do it.” Phillips calls Cincinnati, and both teams relay the trade details to New York. The trade is made official, and the Bengals are on the clock. From inside Radio City Hall, ESPN’s broadcast team gets the cue. “So we’ve got another trade here,” Chris Berman says, “as Cincinnati has traded up; they are now on the clock. We’ve got Los Angeles moving down again, Mel.” “Well remember, we all thought they would stay put at ten and take Dontari Poe,” Mel Kiper Jr. says. “They traded down, picked up a few extra picks, now they’re trading down again.” “And this is a team,” Berman says, “finished 6-10 last year, Jon. Still in, as we would say, a rebuilding phase. So you wouldn't think they would be in a hurry to move out of the top ten as they did. Apparently, Chance Phillips, the GM out in L.A., disagrees.” “The Los Angeles Knights are definitely still rebuilding,” Jon Gruden says. “They’re not one or two guys away, Boom. So Chance Phillips is sitting in his war room and he’s saying, ‘I don’t see one prospect I’m in love with, so I’m just gonna stockpile picks to try and reload this roster.’” The Knights now have eleven selections overall, including four in the third round. Confident in his scouts, Phillips will stand pat and draft his board for all those picks if need be, though that’s not his plan. The picks pass without danger for the Knights. Just before they’re up, New England trades up with Denver and takes Chandler Jones, someone rated highly on L.A.’s board. But thankfully, they’re on the clock at twenty-two, and number nine on their big board is still available. Phillips quietly thanks the NFL for undervaluing offensive guards and overvaluing the scouting combine. “The pick is in!” several partygoers yell. Maverick finishes his martini and moves toward the TV screen as the commissioner announces the pick. “With the twenty-second pick in the 2012 NFL Draft, the Los Angeles Knights select Chase Grodd, guard, Iowa.” The mansion explodes with screaming. Many partiers spill drinks onto the floor. Several head for the liquor cabinet and unveil a large bottle of tequila. Maverick should be praising the heavens for an upgrade in pass protection, but at the moment, he can only calculate which toilet is closest to the living room. It’s going to be a long night. Everyone in the war room stands up and shakes hands. The phone gets passed around as Phillips, Schneider, and Coach Daniel speak with Chase Grodd, the newest Knight. An absolute mauler in the run game, he figures to start at left guard immediately. Things settle down quickly because everyone knows the Knights may not be finished for the night; they have several other holes to fill and, thanks to both trades, plenty of ammunition to move back up. The Knights’ next pick is forty-first overall, the ninth pick in the second round. A few more picks roll in until the highest rated player on the Knights’ board is at a position of need. Phillips works the phones, eager to get back into the first round. The Packers are up with the twenty-eighth pick, but they stay put and take USC linebacker Nick Perry. The Ravens field several calls to trade down, but they don’t want to move down too far. They make a deal with Minnesota, who picks Notre Dame safety Harrison Smith. The Broncos, after already trading down nine spots, don’t want to move down again without a substantial offer. Phillips isn’t ready to provide one, so Denver stays put and drafts Cincinnati defensive tackle Derek Wolfe. The 49ers look to trade down, but just like Baltimore, they don’t want to move far, taking Los Angeles out of the running. Tampa Bay strikes a deal and takes Boise State running back Doug Martin. The Giants are up with the final pick of the night. Frustrated and desperate to make a deal, Phillips speaks with Giants GM Jerry Reese on the phone as the clock ticks down. “Look, Jerry, I know you don’t want to trade down again. I understand—” “Then make me an offer, Chance. I’m not trying to swindle you, but it’s gotta be worth it. Just a third-rounder isn’t worth it.” “How about my highest third, seventy-four overall? I think that’s fair to move up nine spots.” Phillips waits for a response as the entire war room focuses on him. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s gonna work,” Reese says. “Actually, Chance, I don’t think we can do business for less than a second-rounder.” “Second round?” Everyone in the war room shoots Phillips a disapproving look. DeMartine shakes his head and waves his arms. Abandon ship. Phillips can feel a trade within reach, but Paul is right. “Sorry, Jerry. I can’t do it. Thanks anyway.” Phillips slams the phone down, and the war room goes quiet until the Giants draft Virginia Tech running back David Wilson. “Okay, gentlemen,” Phillips says. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow at three. Expect another busy night.” After the room disperses, he calls the war room in St. Louis. The Rams own the first pick of the second round and are unofficially on the clock. “Hi, Les, it’s Chance Phillips. We can talk in detail tomorrow, but I want that pick. I’ve got three third-rounders. Call me.” The Knights’ first round pick receives mostly positive reviews from the media. Though many fans are disappointed the team didn’t stay in the top ten to draft a playmaker at a flashy position, nobody can argue with an upgrade on the offensive line. Everyone notes that the Knights have collected a ton of extra picks by moving down, and could very well be active again tomorrow. ESPN’s Adam Schefter mentions the Knights specifically when reporting that the Rams are already fielding calls for the thirty-third pick. As the war room fills in again Friday night for rounds two and three, Phillips is already working the phones, in near constant contact with St. Louis. A trade is imminent. Many teams want to trade up in the second round, but nobody is willing to surrender more than a fourth round pick. Phillips offers the eighty-eighth pick, the Knights’ lowest non-compensatory pick in the third round, and the trade is finalized just before the telecast begins. The trade is made official, and the Knights waste no time phoning in the selection, taking one of a few players with first round grades still on their board. A still hungover Maverick somehow remembers to turn on the draft. He steps over empty liquor bottles and beer cans to get the remote. He looks around at the mess but somehow can't see himself cleaning anytime soon. The screen fades in and the sound kicks in with Goodell mid-sentence. “…thirty-third pick in the 2012 NFL Draft, the Los Angeles Knights select Kevin Zeitler, guard, Wisconsin.” Maverick’s stomach churns a little, thankful that pick didn’t happen last night. When the wave of nausea passes, his senses return and reality hits him: they drafted two guards with their first two picks. This situation would normally call for a drink. The same post-selection ritual takes over the war room as congratulations are again in order. Zeitler is similar to Grodd as a prospect and should start at right guard from day one. The Knights entered the draft with holes and both guard positions, and they have filled them with their first two picks. But they’re not done. A few more picks later, only one prospect with a first round grade is on the Knights' board. For the Knights, it happens to be another key position of need. After all the pre-draft simulations and predictions, everything has fallen perfectly into place. They just need to make one more trade. “Let’s ask ourselves this first,” Phillips says as the 49ers are on the clock with the thirty-sixth pick. “Are we willing to trade both third-rounders to get back into the second round?” “Remember,” DeMartine says, “we talked about this in one particular simulation, and at the time, we said yes. And to get someone we view as a first round prospect, I still say it’s worth it.” “I agree,” Schneider says. “Okay then,” Phillips says. “Finding someone willing to trade out of the second entirely may be tricky, but let’s see who’s open for business.” The 49ers draft Illinois receiver A.J. Jenkins. The Rams are up after their trade with Los Angeles and take Appalachian State receiver Brian Quick. The Jaguars are open to a trade but want to stay in the second round. They take Clemson defensive end Andre Branch. Miami has the same story, though they would be interested in a trade for L.A.’s second round pick next year. Phillips doesn’t want to trade future picks, so Miami drafts Stanford tackle Jonathan Martin. “Only a matter of time before someone takes our guy,” DeMartine says. “Keep the faith,” Phillips says, phone in hand. “We’ve got a lot of picks to enjoy regardless.” The war room in Cleveland answers. “Tom, it’s Chance Phillips. Look, I’m running out of patience so I’ll make this simple. I want your pick and I’ve got two third rounders to offer. Seventy-four and eighty-four. Interested?” Phillips doesn’t move for a moment, then smiles and pumps his fist, and the room comes to life again. “Alright, Tom, let’s make it official.” Within minutes, the trade is finalized, and the Knights are on the clock. As they phone in the pick, Coach Harden looks pleased. “Great pick, gentlemen. I can’t wait to work with this kid.” In the backyard of a middle class home about an hour from Soldier Field, friends and family enjoy a Friday night barbeque. Among them is celebrity Chet Ripka, a Hall of Fame player who gave the Bears many great years at strong safety. Ripka travels back home a lot during the offseason to see old friends, though he wishes this particular party didn’t coincide with the draft. “Hey, Chet!” a friend near the outside television yells. “They just traded; the Knights are up.” “Again?” Ripka says, making his way towards the screen. Management’s aggressiveness has surprised him this year, and he doesn’t mind that. He has seen enough drafts to know not to take them seriously, but he still wants to learn about his new teammates. The small crowd around the TV goes quiet. “With the fortieth pick in the 2012 NFL Draft, the Los Angeles Knights select Griswold Johnson, safety, Adrian.” “Hey, a safety! Is that your replacement, Chet?” “Yeah,” Ripka says, taking another sip of beer, “could be.” The Los Angeles war room finally enjoys a prolonged celebration. Their next pick is the last in the third round, and they don’t have any plans of trading up before that. As the phone gets passed around, Harden excitedly talks to his new free safety. Johnson is the first Division III player off the board in this draft, and for good reason; he dominated the level of competition at Adrian College. If he played at a Division I school, he probably would have gone in the first round. Chance Phillips quietly enjoys a satisfying moment. A hectic and disappointing free agency period left the Knights with holes at left guard, right guard, and free safety. All three positions have now been filled—by rookies, of course, but Phillips likes having a team full of potential. He believes in his coaching staff’s ability to develop talent. The second round commences pick by pick. NFL Network gets in touch with Phillips and Coach Daniel, requesting on-air interviews, but they both decline. The Knights have no plans to trade up, but neither man wants to leave the war room while the draft is ongoing. When the third round begins, the Knights’ big board has six prospects with second round grades available. Phillips doubts they will all fall to their next pick, a compensatory selection that cannot be traded. Within ten picks, three of the six prospects are gone. Two more go quickly after. Halfway through the third round, only one remains on the board. The picks reach the twenties and he’s still there. While Phillips wonders if the Knights are about to get lucky, a second round prospect still available late in the third round is a red flag. Is there some obscure injury the Knights don’t know about? As casual conversation dies, Phillips instructs his team to work the phones. If something’s up, he needs to know. The picks roll in with occasional trades, and the prospect in question remains on the board. The Falcons, the last team in the third round with a 3-4 defense, make their pick, and it’s not him. No news seems to be buzzing around the league. The Knights must simply have him rated higher than everyone else. Finally, the Patriots make the penultimate selection of the evening, and it’s not the Knights’ target. Half overjoyed, half bewildered, Phillips says, “Well, we can’t trade this one, so let’s not waste any time.” A few minutes later, an announcement is made via intercom in Radio City Music Hall (the podium announcements have stopped by now): “With the ninety-fifth pick in the 2012 NFL Draft, the Los Angeles Knights select Damian Jones, defensive tackle, California.” Another round of handshakes commences for the final time as the war room dissipates for the evening. Harden seems particularly giddy, and for good reason; he was more responsible for Jones’ second round grade than the scouts were. At a sturdy 6’2”-325, he could be the franchise nose tackle the Knights have been seeking. The Los Angeles war room reassembles Saturday morning for the final time with a simple plan: draft the board. Phillips doesn’t anticipate any trades and wants to secure as much depth as possible with his final five picks. As the remainder of the draft goes along, the Knights do just that. In the fourth round, they draft Devon Wylie, wide receiver from Fresno State. In the fifth round, they draft Zebrie Sanders, offensive tackle from Florida State, and George Iloka, safety from Boise State. In the sixth round, they draft Isaiah Frey, cornerback from Nevada. In the seventh round, they draft Marcus Jameson, running back from USC. And just like that, it’s over. The war room empties, business finished for the weekend. Phillips will now work hard on signing his nine draft picks to contracts, but otherwise, all significant phases of the offseason have ended; the roster for the 2012 Los Angeles Knights has taken shape. OTAs are right around the corner, followed by the dog days of summer inactivity, then training camp, which leads into preseason action, and then, finally, football.

Knights of Andreas Part II Chapter Thirteen – Guarded Waters and Open Windows January 12. Playoff football dominates the sports world. With Divisional Weekend two days away, the NFL buzzes with nonstop analysis of which teams are primed to win, and which will hoist the Lombardi Trophy in a month. Meanwhile, on the sidelines, the twenty-four franchises already eliminated prepare for free agency, the first phase of a long offseason. From inside team headquarters of the Los Angeles Knights, one of the twenty-four, decision makers end a meeting in the general manager’s office. Free agency may be a month away, but it calls for a thorough game plan, like any football game. As the crowd leaves, one stays behind: the franchise’s owner, Wayne Schneider. “Chance, could I have a moment?” he asks. “Certainly,” Chance Phillips says. “What’s on your mind, Wayne?” Schneider unbuttons his suit and puts his hands on his hips. “Doesn’t our free agency strategy seem a bit…passive?” “Of course it’s a bit passive. That’s nothing new.” As Knights GM, Phillips usually takes this time of year to dump some of the bad contracts he inherited and work on building space against the salary cap for some undetermined season down the road. Such is management for a long-term rebuilding project. The end of the 2011 season, however, has redefined “long-term.” The Knights ended the year winning four of their last six games, and their 6-10 record included several egregious breakdowns. It’s not outlandish to say they should have been 8-8 or better. The debate amongst fans has raged on since week 17. Some call the final stretch a fluke and insist the Knights are still a poor team; some call it representative of the team’s talent, and that they are making the playoffs this year. “C’mon, Chance,” Schneider says. “Let’s make a splash, test the waters a bit. We’ve got the cap room, don’t we?” Schneider points to a massive chart on the nearest wall; it shows every player under contract with the Knights, including projections on cap figures for the next decade. It shows a lot—most importantly, that Schneider is right. Phillips’ efforts in past years have finally paid off. The Knights will enter free agency with more cap space than ever since moving from Oakland. “Regardless,” Phillips says, “I don’t see any high-profile opportunities, other than what we’ve discussed.” “I understand your trepidation, Chance, I really do. That’s why I hired you. You’re too patient to go crazy and handicap the team with poor contracts. I get that. But this isn’t a bottom five roster anymore. We’ve got it turned around—headed in the right direction, at least.” “I don’t deny that.” “More importantly, the players think it’s turned around. You were in that locker room after the Packers game. You remember. And let’s not forget how poor our division is overall. If you ask me, the window is open. I’m not saying you go out and sign Mario Williams, but find some stopgaps here and there; don’t just sit around and say we’re building through the draft.” “That’s the plan.” Phillips knows Schneider is right, in this case. If he can find cheap veterans to fill roster holes while the younger players develop, it can make the team better in the short-term. “Stopgaps don’t exactly qualify as making a splash, though.” “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” January 25. Caden Daniel, one of thirty-two men with the privilege of coaching an NFL team, passes the practice field on his way out for the day. He spots an empty parking lot—no reporters. For the past month, beat writers have been asking about the Knights’ strong finish in 2011 and whether or not it is an indication of future success. Though the media is desperate for an answer either way, Daniel knows the truth: he won’t know for awhile. He won’t know until his players return to the locker room for OTAs, until he sees them on the practice field. It’s a media fallacy that a football team can be fully judged after exactly sixteen games, and it applies especially to the Knights in this case, a team that is still growing. In the meantime, Daniel enjoys operating without the pressure of a rebuilding franchise. Despite a lack of talent on the roster, he has proven he can field a competitive team. Now he just needs some help from management, and the Knights can reach their true potential. February 13. Merle Harden sits in the film room and jots down a few notes. The front office has always accommodated him on his personnel decisions for his defense; in this case, after he told them they should not re-sign Stanford Routt, they gave him the task of finding a suitable free agent replacement. They also provided statistics and assessments compiled by the scouting department, but Harden doesn’t find them very helpful. The door opens as someone knocks on it. “How’s it going, coach?” “Afternoon, Mr. Phillips. It’s coming along.” “Got any names for me?” “Two, so far. Thomas and Marshall.” “Very well.” Harden nods, not sure if he’s supposed to say anything else. “Also, Merle, about the other thing. I know you said you didn’t want to get into it, but I understand if you do, and I’m willing—” “No worries, Mr. Phillips. I’m under contract one more season. After that, I’ll decide where I go.” “Fair enough. Let me know if you need anything else.” He shuts the door. Harden seems to be the only one in Los Angeles who doesn’t want to talk about his contract. He is entering the final year of the three-year deal he signed with the Knights, and he has no desire to talk about an extension. He will be the defensive coordinator for the 2012 season. After that, he could end up a couple different places. February 24. The front office wraps up another week of preparation. Phillips has his free agency strategy ready, and while he obviously can’t predict whom the Knights will sign, they will certainly enter the market with a lot of holes to fill. Kirk Morrison, for example, never adjusted well to the 3-4 defense. Neither did Kamerion Wimbley. So that’s two linebackers gone. Between similar situations and expiring contracts, the Knights will soon have holes at wide receiver, left guard, right guard, nose tackle, inside linebacker, outside linebacker, both cornerback spots, and free safety. Of the free agents to be at those positions, Phillips only wants to bring back two. Cornerback Malik Rose is one of the Knights’ best players. The Knights have a contract offer on the table, but Rose’s agent said his client wanted to test the market and consider all offers. Phillips knows no one will break the bank for Rose because of his past and hopes to use that to his advantage. Meanwhile, receiver Da’Jamiroquai Jefferspin-Wilkes is a wild card. He flashed both elite potential and utter stupidity last season, but the Knights are extremely thin at the position after releasing Darrius Heyward-Bey. Wilkes’ agent, however, is Drew Rosenhaus, so no dialogue has been exchanged. While Phillips will enjoy more cap space than ever, he is only willing to sign a top-level veteran at one position: offensive line, the team’s biggest weakness in 2011. Center Brian Penner has returned to elite form, left tackle Jared Veldheer is finally progressing, and right tackle Khalif Barnes is mediocre but under contract. So that leaves both guard positions open. It’s a strong left guard class this year, with Carl Nicks, Ben Grubbs, and Evan Mathis all free agents. Nicks is the superior talent and should be the first domino to fall with a huge contract, probably beyond Phillips’ range. He doesn’t see enough positional value in offensive guard to warrant a major contract, and he likes his chances of finding competent starters in the draft, but he would rather not go into the draft needing two guards. If he can land either Grubbs or Mathis, then the only hole to fill is right guard, meaning he won’t necessarily need a first round pick to do it. March 13. The new league year begins, along with it the 2012 free agency signing period, at 4pm Eastern Time. In Los Angeles, it is 1pm as Phillips stands in a large conference room with Schneider, the coaching staff, and the scouting department. Bits of news come in rapidly from agents, other GMs, and reporters. This team is interested in that guy, such-and-such may be going here-or-there, his agent is looking for so-many guaranteed dollars, etc. No surprises yet. Phillips monitors Rose and Wilkes, his two in-house targets, but nothing develops. Tidbits come in throughout the day with only one notable transaction: the Jets re-sign Sione Pouha. Nose tackle is a position of need for the Knights, and Phillips wants to address it. He still needs to find a long-term solution via the draft, of course, but there are a few stopgap veterans on the market he likes. March 14. A marquee signing opens the day: Vincent Jackson to Tampa Bay for five years, $55.5 million. The Knights are happy to see Jackson leave San Diego. The wide receiver wave continues with Pierre Garcon, who signs with Washington for five years, $42.5 million. Then Marques Colston re-signs with New Orleans for five years, $36.3 million. Phillips gets a phone call from Drew Rosenhaus, obviously regarding Wilkes. “Look, Chance,” Rosenhaus says, “it’s obvious the market for receivers clearly dictates a five-year deal, so let’s not even discuss that. Out of the receivers signed so far, Mr. Wilkes’ athletic abilities and elite potential compare more closely to Vincent Jackson. So let’s start there.” Phillips does the math: $55.5 million for five years is $11.1 million per year. And Jackson reportedly got $26 million guaranteed. “No way, Drew,” Phillips says. “That’s nowhere close to what we feel is appropriate.” “Then you are severely underrating my client.” “So be it. Call me back when you feel like being reasonable.” He hangs up. Everyone in the room looks impressed. “Well,” Schneider says, “that’s one way to deal with Rosenhaus.” Phillips didn’t even bother mentioning the factors that should force D-Jam into a low contract; calling Rosenhaus’ bluff was an easy decision. A few hours later, Josh Morgan signs with Washington for five years, $12 million. Phillips finds this signing very peculiar; if you’re only going to pay a player $2.4 million per season, why commit to them for five years? He shrugs off the thought, now worried about the wide receiver position. “Okay, gentlemen,” Phillips says, “it’s not looking good at receiver right now. I wonder how far Rosenhaus will come down on Wilkes.” “If I can be honest, Chance,” Schneider says, “I’m a little surprised you’re this dedicated to Wilkes. He was a shot in the dark last year anyway. Did he really live up to his potential?” “Wayne’s right,” says Paul DeMartine, newly promoted assistant general manager. “He still hasn’t produced like he did his rookie year in Seattle.” “Yeah, well,” Phillips says, “maybe he’s still getting there. Coach, what do you think?” Phillips listens closely for Daniel’s response; he believes very strongly in communication between coaches and management, especially in decisions like this. “Quite honestly,” Daniel says, “I think Wilkes, more than anything, needs continuity. He needs stability. He’s had it rough the last few years, and I think this is the best place for him.” “I don’t disagree, DeMartine says, “but does he know that?” “We’ll find out soon enough,” Phillips says. He desperately wants to retain D-Jam because the Knights have no depth at the position. Alex Johnson had a very good rookie year, but even if he progresses, Jonathan Maverick needs a number two receiver. A few hours later, the Chiefs sign former Knight Stanford Routt for three years, $19.6 million, another reminder that the Knights have holes at both cornerback spots. Phillips wanted to bring Routt back, and probably would have given him twenty million, but Coach Harden insisted he could find a better corner for his defense. Whether he likes it or not, Phillips has to trust Harden. March 15. Another marquee signing gets things going: Cortland Finnegan to St. Louis for five years, $50 million. An hour later, Carlos Rogers re-signs with San Francisco for four years, $29.3 million. Phillips works the phones frantically, keeping up with the two cornerback targets Harden has named: Richard Marshall and Terrell Thomas. The latter wants to sign first, and the Giants seem very insistent on keeping him. The bidding escalates, and the Giants offer four years, $28 million, $11 million guaranteed. Phillips deems that far too rich an investment for an athlete with injury concerns. The Giants make the deal official, and the Knights hone in on Marshall. While this happens, Paul Soliai and Red Bryant re-sign with Miami and Seattle respectively, two more nose tackles off the market. A modest bidding war begins between L.A. and Miami. Phillips remains passive, and eventually Miami makes its final offer: three years, $15 million. Phillips counters with $16 million, and Marshall’s agent agrees. As the paperwork comes in for signatures, the room is full of handshakes and congratulations for the first signing of the year. A former second round pick, Marshall has had a disappointing career so far, but he played exceptional in 2011. Harden loves the signing (assuming Marshall is second on the depth chart, not first), and Phillips loves that he didn’t need to commit to four years or more. As the signatures pile on, more cornerbacks sign around the league: Brandon Carr with Dallas for five years, $50.1 million, and Eric Wright with Tampa Bay for five years, $37.5 million. This prompts a phone call from Malik Rose’s agent, and the room goes quiet. Phillips does more listening than talking and scribbles notes on a legal pad. “Okay, I’ll call you back in ten minutes,” he says, then hangs up. “Here’s the deal. The market for Rose is heating up, but only to a point. Mostly three- and four-year deals. We still have the only five-year deal on the table.” “What are the figures on the other deals?” DeMartine asks. “Six or seven million per year. And in fairness, we just signed a number two corner for a little over five per, so we have to be in that range. I say we up our offer from five to six per, and go from there.” “That would bring the total contract to…?” “Thirty million. Five years.” Malik Rose receives a look from Eva, his wife, who holds a crying Jasmin in her hands. The frequent phone calls apparently haven’t helped her sleep. Malik is too busy to notice, nervously navigating uncharted territory. Though he has switched teams before, the trade from Pittsburgh came out of nowhere. Being a free agent is different. “I think it’s your turn,” Eva says, extending Jasmin. Malik gets ready to hold her, but his phone rings. He checks the ID. “It’s my agent. I gotta take this, I’m sorry, baby.” He picks up as Eva walks away. “Talk to me.” “Okay, Malik, as of now, Los Angeles is the only five-year deal on the table. And most corners are getting five years. A few other offers, from the teams we mentioned.” “What’s the best offer besides L.A.?” “Miami. Four years, twenty-six million.” Rose considers life in Miami for a moment. It would be a little closer to home, a proposition with benefits and consequences. “Get Miami up to five years, if you can. Then we’ll see how their offer competes with L.A.’s.” “You got it, Malik.” Before checking on Jasmin, Rose ponders the contract numbers he has heard so far. The Knights are up to thirty-two million dollars, and Miami could match it. Rose wanted something in the forties, but given his current situation, the possibility of another baby, and his friends taking their cut, thirty-two is enough. The Knights barely have time to process Carl Nicks’ five-year, $47.5 million contract with Tampa Bay before negotiations ramp up with Rose’s agent. Though Miami’s resistance to a five-year commitment gives Phillips the edge in bidding, he raises his offer a bit, desperate the close the deal. His final offer is five years, $32.5 million. Rose hears the deal from his agent, who haggles back with Phillips over a few hundred thousand dollars. Phillips raises the average salary from $6.5 million to $6.52 million, and an agreement is reached. Rose heads for team headquarters as Phillips irons out the financial structure of the deal. The contract is printed just before Rose arrives. He exchanges jovial handshakes and wishes of good will, views a copy of the contract, and Malik Rose is a Knight through 2016. Schneider talks about a press conference, and Phillips tunes out the conversation. With Carl Nicks signing, left guard is now the Knights’ top priority. March 16. An early morning bidding war for Ben Grubbs ends with Los Angeles on top. Grubbs, however, passes up a few million and signs with New Orleans for five years, $36 million. Apparently, the Knights still aren’t in a position to lure free agents on money alone. Evan Mathis becomes the team’s top target. Phillips calls his agent and schedules a visit for tomorrow. Mathis is visiting Baltimore today, and Philadelphia has an offer on the table, so it’s a three-way contest. Meanwhile, Jason Campbell signs with Chicago on a one-year deal. Phillips expected Campbell would leave, but he wants to find a veteran backup for Maverick. Coach Daniel is the biggest quarterback guru in the organization, and while he doesn’t like the free agent class, he has given Phillips a green light. A few hours later, the Knights sign Chad Henne to a two-year, $7 million deal. The rest of the day is quiet, so front office members pass the time by discussing Mario Williams’ six-year, $96 million contract with Buffalo. March 17. Evan Mathis arrives and tours team headquarters. He meets the owner, general manager, and speaks in depth with the offensive coaching staff. Phillips, however, is called away; something is heating up. He returns to his office and discovers that Dan Connor wants to sign a contract today. Dallas has a two-year, $6.5 million offer on the table, but Connor is willing to take a discount to reunite with Coach Harden, who coached him in Carolina. A few phone calls later, the Knights sign Connor for two years, $6 million, filling their void at inside linebacker. Since it’s Saturday, Harden isn’t at team headquarters, so Phillips texts him the news about the reunion. Less than an hour later, another one of Phillips’ targets is about to make a decision: John Abraham. Phillips wants Abraham on a one-year deal to boost the team’s pass rush, but Atlanta’s offer is for three years. “I’m sorry, Chance,” Abraham’s agent says, “but unless you’re willing to go beyond one year, my client won’t consider the offer. He wants longevity.” Of course he does. Abraham turns 34 in May; he’s a declining player and wants to get as much money as he can while he can. It is precisely this reason Phillips is unwilling to commit beyond a single season. With no other free agent options, this means Sean Brock will start at right outside linebacker. Harden insists he’ll be fine and was against the idea of Abraham initially. Once again, Phillips is forced to trust his defensive coordinator. Phillips rejoins Mathis and channels his best salesman persona, telling him the contract is ready to sign right now. Mathis humbly declines, says he will make a decision soon, and leaves Los Angeles without a deal. Phillips fills everyone in on the Connor and Abraham signings, and reminds them that between the three bidders for Mathis, the Knights have the highest contract on the table. March 18. Kendall Langford signs with St. Louis for four years, $24 million. Phillips loves that contract for Langford, and gladly would have given it to him to play right defensive end. Unfortunately, Tommy Kelly has three years left on an ugly contract Phillips inherited. A few hours later, Phillips gets a call from Evan Mathis’ agent. The entire room goes quiet again, and Phillips’ look of defeat stuns them. He delivers the news that Mathis is taking a hometown discount to re-sign with Philadelphia for five years, $25 million. “Dammit, that’s twice Philly has poached us,” Schneider says, referring to Nnamdi Asomugha. “In fairness,” DeMartine says, “Nnamdi didn’t really play well last season.” “Good. Fuck the Eagles.” “Let’s change the subject,” Phillips says. There’s not much of a subject to discuss besides the offensive line, which now has two gaping holes at left and right guard. The Knights have whiffed on all three of their premiere targets. March 19. Half the day passes without substantial news, save for Michael Bush signing with Chicago. This doesn’t worry the Knights; they’re comfortable with a Darren McFadden/Jerome Jaxson tandem in the backfield. “Maybe we should make a move on D-Jam,” Phillips eventually says. “Most of the receiver market is dried up. Rosenhaus is obviously overselling his hand. Maybe if we jump in now and make a decent offer, it’ll work.” “Rosenhaus is a slippery fuck,” Schneider says. “I wouldn’t do it.” “Hell with it, let’s see what happens. The deal we talked about?” “If you insist.” Phillips dials the number. It rings five times before someone answers. “Good afternoon, Chance.” “Listen, Drew, with regards to Jefferspin-Wilkes, it’s obvious you don’t have any deals on the table right now.” “Hold on a second—” “No, you hold on. We’re prepared to make a four-year deal worth twenty-five million total. Something tells me that’s miles ahead of anything you’ve received so far. Tell that to Wilkes and get back to me.” He hangs up. The rest of the day passes without a call from Rosenhaus, or anybody else. March 20. For the first time, a signing gravitates the entire room to the television screen, which displays the breaking news headline: “Broncos sign Peyton Manning.” Everyone watches the coverage a few minutes before speaking. “This changes our division quite a bit,” Coach Daniel says. “Changes the entire conference,” Schneider says. “What a shame,” DeMartine says. “After the Chargers kept Norv, I figured our division would stay terrible.” “Bring ‘em on,” Coach Harden says. Phillips doesn’t say anything, too busy pondering the ramifications of this signing. He and several others in the Knights organization had a slightly higher view of the team’s outlook simply because a 9-7 record could be a playoff berth in the AFC West. That no longer seems to be the case. March 21. While the league is still frenzied over the Manning signing, Da’Jamiroquai Jefferspin-Wilkes is beyond disappointed. His agent promised him a big deal, and it hasn’t happened. With all the free agent receivers getting five-year deals, he really thought this was the year he got the big payday he deserved. Now, it doesn’t seem likely. “I apologize, D-Jam,” Rosenhaus says over the phone. “I really felt we had a chance to max it out.” “What about another one-year deal?” “No way. That just makes you look weak, and worsens your contract value down the road.” “Oh, okay. So what do we do?” “I think I can talk your GM into some incentives.” “Incentives?” “Yes. If you get this many receiving yards, this many touchdowns, Player of the Week, Pro Bowl, anything. I’ll load that contract with incentives. This way, if you perform like the wide receiver you and I both know you are, you end up making the big bucks.” “That sounds great. Let’s do it.” March 22. Phillips ponders an incentive-based contract for D-Jam. He suspects his flat, four-year offer is still way better than anything else on the table, but incentives could open the door for another possibility. “I’m open to the idea,” Phillips tells Rosenhaus over the phone, “but only if I get lots of insurance in return.” Rosenhaus has been negotiating NFL contracts for years; he knows what Phillips is talking about. “I’d have to see the contract.” “I’ll get it to you by the end of the day.” March 23. Ten days have passed since free agency opened, and with all the big names signed, things are winding down. Many teams shift their focus from free agency to the draft. While Phillips and Rosenhaus haggle over incentive details, the Knights sign Antonio Garay to a two-year, $6.6 million contract, though there is no guaranteed money in the second year. Phillips still plans to draft a nose tackle, but in the meantime, he’s happy to poach Garay from division rival San Diego. March 24. Phillips and Rosenhaus finally reach an agreement on D-Jam’s contract numbers. On the surface, it is a four-year, $26 million deal, but incentives make it potentially worth up to $36 million. “If he hits the incentives,” Phillips says, “then he’s worth nine million per year.” Also, the contract includes very little guaranteed money beyond the first year. So if anything unfortunate happens with D-Jam, Phillip can cut him without much financial ramification for the Knights. Before the end of the day, D-Jam arrives to add one more signature to the agreement, and Da’Jamiroquai Jefferspin-Wilkes is a Knight through 2015. March 28. Andy Lee signs an extension with San Francisco for six years, $20.5 million. Finally with a benchmark, Phillips works with Shane Lechler’s agent and hammers out terms for an extension. Lechler is entering a contract year, and Phillips wants the game’s best punter to retire a Knight. A few hours later, they add three years and restructure his current deal, essentially creating a four-year, $14 million deal. The calendar turns to April, and the focus at Knights headquarters shifts to the draft, though the workday hours stay the same. One particularly long night, Schneider, Phillips, and Daniel review the team’s depth chart. Daniel: “Still no starters at left and right guard. All due respect, Chance, but this has to be a draft priority.” Schneider: “Missing on the free agents really hurt.” Phillips: “We tried. And I won’t deny that guard is a priority. But Harden’s been raising hell about free safety, as you both know.” Schneider: “Best player available between the three? I can’t see us filling all three with productive rookies, if that’s the goal.” Phillips: “That’s only the goal if we see ourselves as a winning team this season.” Schneider: “Are we?” No one speaks for awhile.