Knights of Andreas 2.13: Fire Daniel

[SteVo+ 3,702]

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.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[RazorStar 4,025]

Well ****. Looks like we're the same old Raiders after all. The shit hasn't just hit the fan, it's covering the floor and walls in a thick goopy layer.

[Vin+ 3,121]

[Sarge+ 3,436]

I knew that rat, Schneider, couldn't be trusted. Fired Daniel even when Phillips vehemently objected. Sigh....

 

This season turned into a real disaster real fast. Excellent writing, Steven. I can't wait to see how you wrap this season up.

[Maverick 791]

Man, reading this chapter legitimately has me upset at work now...

 

Thanks a lot, Steve. I guess that speaks highly of you're writing though since you're able to induce the reader's emotions.

[Bangy 19]

It's ok Jaxson can help pay the Daniels family bills now.

 

Great episode despite it constantly being updated linked towards I really didn't see it happening.

 

Interesting thought comes with Jaxson and Daniels daughter and how Javid reacts with Phillips as it will be seen as a bareface lie.

[theMileHighGuy 656]

I shouldn't feel this defeated over a fictional football team.

 

[Cherry 1,302]

You shitting me, Schneider?

 

This is by far the most unexpected turn... Great change in plot, and the feels are real. Let's fuck up opponent #17.

Edited February 13, 2015 by Chernobyl426

[GA_Eagle 595]

Ahhhh!!!! So frustrated

[BwareDWare94 723]

Goddamn Wayne Davis.

If Mav would stop throwing interceptions at key moments...

Time to look for a new QB!

[Bangy 19]

Or we should go Seahawks on them and go run first.

[Vin+ 3,121]

I love how Stevo keeps subverting my expectations as the season progresses.

 

"We beat PeyPey early in the the season? There's no way we don't make a deep playoff run"

 

We then preceed to lose a billion games.

 

"There's no way we don't make the playoffs."

 

We then go on to miss the playoffs.

 

"There's no way the coach gets fired.."

 

Then the HC gets fired.

 

Nicely done.

 

I would guess that this makes Merle the interim? Should be interesting.

[RazorStar 4,025]

It's like being a Jags fan in a fictional reality!

[Vin+ 3,121]

Minus the playoffs part.

[Favre4Ever+ 4,476]

Eagerly anticipate the "Welcome to the CFL" chapter... lol

[Bangy 19]

Really want to see what happens to Daniels now.....

[Favre4Ever+ 4,476]

 

 

 

 

[BigBen07 285]

Bravo, Stevo

[ATL_Predator+ 1,196]

Merle is a deadbeat dad.

[Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014]

Merle is a deadbeat dad.

Future ATL projecting.

 

 

 

 

 

I'm with Vin. Should've known better, though.

[BwareDWare94 723]

YOU GUYS LEAVE MY MERLE ALONE!

 

He's the best character, so far

[RazorStar 4,025]

Nope, I am the best character, you see... I'm gonna be the interim player-coach! Suck it League, it's Marlon time!

[Cherry 1,302]

I'm gonna snap all of you in half for giving up on season.