Knights of Andreas 3.12: Foxborough Snow

[SteVo+ 3,702]

Knights of Andreas

Part III

Based on Characters Created by:

badgers

Bangy

Barracuda

Bay

BigBen07

BwareDware94

Chernobyl426

DonovanMcnabb for H.O.F

eightnine

FartWaffles

Favre4Ever

JetsFan4Life

Maverick

monstersofthemidway

OAK

RazorStar

RevisFan81

Sarge

seanbrock

SteVo

Thanatos19

theMileHighGuy

Vin

Zack_of_Steel

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirty-Eight – Foxborough Snow

 

The Wild Card Round ends when a last-second field goal lifts the 49ers past the Packers, 23-20, and only eight football teams are still alive. Hours later, the full Divisional Round schedule is released. The Knights/Patriots game is scheduled for Saturday night, an unlucky break that abbreviates an already critical practice week.

 

Monday morning, Merle Harden and the coaching staff finalize a practice schedule and get to work on the game plan. Harden soon finds himself watching film on Tom Brady with his defensive coaches.

 

All of America, beyond the football world, knows Brady’s name and his business. Everyone in the MedComm Center appreciates the challenge that lies before them this week, trying to beat a team with four Super Bowls in the modern era, one of the greatest quarterback/head coach tandems in league history, in their own house, where forecasts predict sub-freezing temperatures and a 50% chance of snow.

 

Brady’s film inspires comments of awe from the coaches, irritating Harden instantly.

 

“That’s enough,” he says, commanding the entire room’s attention. “We’re not gonna play this game when it comes to Brady. Know why?” A few coaches shake their head. Nobody speaks. “February 1, 2004. Patriots vs. Panthers for the Super Bowl. The memory’s too damn strong in my mind. Of course, when everyone else thinks about that game, they see Brady leading the game-winning drive in the final seconds, one pass at a time, setting up the field goal as time expired. Well, imagine you’re the defensive coordinator he beats. Imagine screaming one play after another, trying to get the coverage right, trying to make a stop, and it doesn’t work. Defeat doesn’t get worse than that, gentlemen.”

 

“That was only your first year in Carolina, right, coach?”

 

“My first year in the league. And afterwards, I felt sorry for myself, thought I had let my players down, all that bullshit. But that game taught me something very important, and in the years since, I’ve learned not to fear defeat. Not against the other team, not against anyone. Certainly not against Tom fucking Brady. I don’t give a damn how many rings he has. Every quarterback in this league is beatable. So, let’s get to work. We’re not here to suck this guy’s dick; we’re here to chop it off.”

 

And so begins preparation for the Patriots. Harden doesn’t waver from simplicity, of course, so the defensive game plan doesn’t take long to construct.

 

Tuesday morning, players march into the MedComm Center, the offseason still at least a week away. And while the gravity of Saturday’s game—and the uneasiness of being underdogs—hangs over the players, they don’t lose their confidence.

 

The Knights endure three days of practice, slightly longer than usual (the coaching staff makes use of every minute the CBA allows), followed by a Friday that is part film review, part final walkthrough, and a late flight to Boston.

 

Saturday, a few hours after noon, temperatures reach 36 degrees Fahrenheit at Gillette Stadium in Foxborough under mostly cloudy conditions. Hours later, when the Saints and Seahawks kick off the first game of the Divisional Round, the temperature is down to 33, with clouds rolling in.

 

Players take the field for practice, all 68,000-plus seats empty. Most wear long sleeves, some wear gloves. Gates open, and fans take their seats in the cold air.

 

Just after 8pm, the Seahawks beat the Saints, 23-15, and both teams run onto the field for kickoff in Foxborough. The temperature is now 27, with crisp, frigid air, dark skies, and no precipitation.

 

 

 

The Knights win the coin toss and defer to the second half. After a touchback, the partisan crowd applauds as #12 jogs onto the field, facing off against the Knights’ 3-4 formation.

 

The Patriots come out throwing. Brady hits his receivers on short routes, moving the chains. Kenbrell Thompkins for four yards, Danny Amendola for five, Thompkins for three, Aaron Dobson for six. These short completions don’t worry Harden; the Patriots’ receiving corps is unimpressive, and Julian Edelman will receive the Rose treatment whether he lines up outside or in the slot. Harden’s biggest concern is not, technically, a wide receiver.

 

LeGarrette Blount takes a few carries up the middle, fighting his way through small openings and getting decent yardage. The Patriots eventually face third and three near midfield. Brady fakes a handoff to Blount, looks up the middle, and fires for Rob Gronkowski, who catches it in space. Flash runs in and hits him, but Gronkowski keeps his legs moving, muscling his way for an extra five yards before three Knights finally bring him down. The twenty-three-yard completion puts the Patriots on the edge of field goal range and draws the crowd’s largest applause so far.

 

Gronkowski is the Patriots’ biggest offensive weapon (in multiple ways), and Harden doesn’t have a concrete plan for covering him. The current strategy is a combination of Randall and Flash, but if it becomes necessary, he’s not unwilling to put Rose on him, a tactic he has used before against elite tight ends.

 

Brady drops back to pass on consecutive plays, a clean pocket in front of him. Brock is getting stuffed by Nate Solder, so Brady faces zero pressure from his blind side. Luck and Grantzinger occasionally beat the duo of Dan Connolly and Marcus Cannon, but Brady gets rid of the ball before they can get their hands on him.

 

The drive reaches the nineteen-yard line. An incompletion brings up second and ten. Brady hands off to Blount, and Randall comes surging through a gap, driving Blount to the grass for a two-yard loss.

 

Brady lines up in shotgun on third and twelve while the Knights stay in formation, showing blitz. On the snap, all four linebackers rush, and Brady dumps it off to Dobson in the flat. There’s grass around him, but Knights quickly close in, bringing him down for a six-yard gain.

 

Field goal units take the field, and Stephen Gostkowski nails the thirty-two yarder. 3-0, Patriots.

 

Gillette Stadium cheers, but so does Coach Harden. He claps emphatically on the sideline, directing praise toward his defense.

 

“Good stop, men, good stop!” he says. “How many times did we say it this week? This game is about field goals and touchdowns. The team that settles for field goals is gonna lose. That’s a good stop, and a good way to start.”

 

 

 

A commercial and kickoff later, the stadium gets loud as the other #12 takes the field.

 

The Knights start with the run game, Jameson taking multiple carries up the middle for about five yards at a time. The crowd grows quieter with every play as the Knights march down the field without a passing attempt.

 

Though content with the rushing productivity, Maverick looks forward to his first pass of the day. As long as he stays away from Devin McCourty, he likes his matchup on New England’s corners. He especially would love to take advantage of Johnson against Alfonzo Dennard, but only if Johnson breaks out of his recent funk.

 

Maverick stares down Wilkes against Aqib Talib and hits him on a hitch for eight yards. A toss to Jaxson gets the Knights another first down, across midfield. Maverick fakes a handoff and looks over the middle. Pressure makes him step up as Bishop breaks open. He lobs it over the middle—Jerod Mayo gets in front of Bishop and intercepts it. The stadium roars as Mayo cuts to his left. Knights linemen and receivers run him down quickly, but the Patriots still take over on the Knights’ forty-five.

 

Maverick keeps his poker face on the sideline, apologizes to his teammates, and looks at pictures with Coach Everett.

 

“He was open,” Everett says, pointing to one picture snapped just before Maverick released the ball. “Just too much air under the ball. You gotta fire that in there. Is it the cold?”

 

“Maybe,” Maverick says. “I just tried to throw it, normal speed. Should have zipped it, you’re right.”

 

The conversation continues, with other players and coaches chiming in, as the defense yields one first down but forces another field goal attempt, which Gostkowski makes. 6-0, Patriots.

 

 

 

The Knights continue to run the ball effectively, and Maverick avoids more errant passes, rarely throwing downfield, but the Patriots step up on a key third down and force a punt.

 

Brady takes over and resumes his dip-and-dunk strategy with no pass rush to bother him. Knights corners and safeties, however, cover closely enough to force a few incompletions, eventually making the Patriots punt.

 

The game becomes a battle of field position with both defenses settling in. Neither team seems bothered by the cold, though neither offense appears willing to be aggressive.

 

The field position tilts in New England’s favor early in the second quarter, with another big play by Gronkowski putting the Patriots in field goal range. The defense holds, forcing Gostkowski to attempt a forty-six yard kick that sails wide right. The Knights offense comes back on the field, feeling some momentum on their side.

 

Coach Everett calls a pass play to start the drive, and Maverick hits Wilkes on a post for thirteen yards.

 

Grodd and Penner continue dominating the heart of the Patriots’ run defense, and Jameson and Jaxson take advantage. Maverick distributes the ball to everyone except Johnson, who can’t get separation on his routes. Still, Maverick finds himself on a tear, throwing five straight completions and reaching the red zone.

 

First and ten. Maverick takes a snap in shotgun and goes through his reads. Everyone is covered, but he has plenty of time against a three-man rush. Pressure eventually comes up the middle, so Maverick rolls left. With most receivers running right, the field is wide open, and Watson emerges from the crowd on a crossing route. Maverick hits him in stride. Watson bolts for the corner of the end zone, diving for the pylon but coming up a yard short. First and goal.

 

After getting stuffed on his first attempt, Jameson takes the ball up the middle and punches it through, silencing the Foxborough crowd. 7-6, Knights.

 

 

 

As the second quarter clock crosses the five-minute mark, Brady connects to Amendola over the middle for an eight-yard pass, a first down that puts the Patriots on the edge of field goal range. The home team is in the middle of a firm response to Los Angeles’ touchdown, while the Knights defense is on its heels.

 

After calling the next play, Harden sees Gronkowski line up on the left side of the formation. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to remind his linebackers what to do: Brock and Grantzinger flip, with Grantzinger covering Gronkowski and Brock rushing from Brady’s right.

 

Brady drops back to pass. Grantzinger has the 6’6” tight end covered, but Brock can’t get around Cannon. Brady hits Amendola again, who spins around Martin’s would-be tackle and accelerates into the secondary for another first down.

 

The cheers grow louder as Harden screams the next call into his headset. Brady hands off to Blount, who finds a hole up the middle for six yards, putting the Patriots inside the red zone.

 

The Knights show an all-out blitz, though only Martin is coming. Brady drops back and stares down Gronkowski. Flash runs to cover him as he runs a corner route into the end zone. Brady lofts the pass and Flash makes a break for it. Both jump for the ball, but Gronkowski outreaches Flash, comes down with the pass, and spikes the ball into the cold grass with the crowd in full celebration. 13-7, Patriots.

 

 

 

The Knights offense responds with its continued rhythm and effectiveness until a missed block leads to a sack on second down, bringing up third and sixteen. Everett calls a screen to Jaxson that nets seven yards, and the Knights punt it away.

 

The Patriots get the ball back with 2:18 to go, but prospects of a two-minute drive end when Luck breaks through and brings down Brady, notching the Knights’ first sack of the day.

 

The Knights ultimately get the ball back deep in their own territory with no time left. Maverick takes a knee to end the first half.

 

 

 

The sudden warmth of the locker room reminds players how cold it is outside. They savor the temporary comfort while coaches get to work.

 

The mood is much different from last week; though trailing by six could be considered exceeding expectations, the Knights need to make a lot of adjustments.

 

“What do you want to do about Gronk, coach?” the secondary coach asks Harden, unsurprisingly the first decision he must make.

 

“We’ll stick to it for now, but tell Malik we might call on him at any time.”

 

“I’m sure he knows that, coach.”

 

“Tell him anyway. Now,” he says, turning to his defensive line coach, “the lack of pass rush is unacceptable. That’s priority number one.”

 

 

 

The minutes pass quickly, and before long, players put their black helmets back on and march back out the tunnel toward the field. One by one, they catch sight of a hazy fog on the field. A few steps closer, and there’s no fog at all.

 

It’s snowing.

 

A thin layer of soft ice covers the field, still a dirty, faded shade of green, markers still visible, but flurries fall from the sky in what meteorologists would categorize as “light snow.” The air feels colder than it did in the first half, but perhaps that’s just because everyone has just spent twenty minutes indoors.

 

During the kickoff, Maverick waits to take the field as an equipment manager approaches, two gloves in his hand.

 

“Need these for the snow, Mav?”

 

“I don’t think so. Maybe for my left hand, but I’ll let you know after the first series.”

 

After a few runs, Maverick fires a bullet pass with a perfect spiral that hits Bishop in the hands, and he decides he doesn’t need gloves. A few plays later, however, pressure rushes a pass into coverage that gets deflected out of bounds, and the Knights punt.

 

The Patriots take the field. Linebackers bottle up Blount on first down, and the secondary covers everyone on second, leaving Brady to settle for a two-yard pass to Dobson.

 

Brady drops back on third and eight. Harden watches Grantzinger break off the edge, but Brady steps up and fires downfield. Gronkowski runs through a seam, splitting Randall and Flash. He leaps to catch the pass, Flash misses the tight end on his dive, clipping Randall instead, and Gronkowski runs free with the ball. Rose runs him down, reaching him at midfield and wrangling him to the snowy grass at the forty-four. The crowd, which has been quiet since halftime, cheers.

 

“That didn’t take long,” Harden says, more disappointed than angry.

 

With Randall and Flash essentially doubling Gronkowski on every play, Brady finds other receivers (except Edelman, of course, still trapped by Rose) for short gains. A few more runs by Blount put New England on the twenty.

 

First and ten. Randall relay’s Harden’s call—outside blitz—and prepares to cover Gronkowski alone. The tight end runs forward on the snap, then cuts to Brady’s right. Randall cuts with him, a step behind. The pass comes in on target, and Gronkowski catches it at the ten. Randall aims low for a tackle, but a firm stiff arm cripples him to the ground, forcing him to watch through his snow-covered facemask as Gronkowski runs into the end zone and spikes the ball dramatically.

 

Fans in Gillette Stadium toss snow into the air for the touchdown. From Chance Phillips’ executive suite, it’s a remarkable sight—and one he’d admire if it were a celebration in his own team’s favor. The first half had made Phillips confident, but now, down 20-7, Phillips wonders if this is the end of the line for the Knights. He subconsciously thinks of the expiring contracts of Luck, Veldheer, Penner, Jaxson, and others—of an offseason that could be hours away.

 

On the sideline, Harden deliberates his options about how to limit the Patriots’ seemingly unstoppable weapon. He doesn’t need his assistant coaches to ask before he decides.

 

“Ah, fuck it, Edelman doesn’t scare me. Malik!”

 

“Yeah, coach?” Rose says, looking up from the bench.

 

“You’re on Gronk duty. Shut that goofy-faced motherfucker down.”

 

 

 

Maverick’s pass finds Wilkes on a wheel route for twenty yards, taking the Knights across midfield. The next, play, Jaxson takes a toss, accelerates into open space, and surges for eighteen yards. Jameson spells Jaxson and runs up the middle, jukes Brandon Spikes, and hits the secondary. McCourty lowers his shoulders, but Jameson runs him over, falling forward for an extra five yards.

 

Coach Everett hurriedly calls the next play, ecstatic at his offense’s response. The Knights have gone nearly fifty yards in three plays.

 

Maverick drops back to pass with a clean pocket. He surveys his options, but the Patriots have everyone covered. He rolls right and shovels the ball to Jaxson, emerging out of the backfield. Three Patriots converge to the goal line where Jaxson aims, but he leaps as high in the air as he can, gets hit in the legs, and spirals into the end zone. He jumps up from the ground and spikes the football. 20-14, Patriots.

 

 

 

On the ensuing Patriots possession, all eyes focus on #87, especially Harden’s. He watches both his defense and Brady as Gronkowski lines up in the slot, covered by #25.

 

Brady doesn’t look Gronkowski’s way during the drive, which gets only one first down before a punt.

 

The Knights’ next drive is no better. Everett calls three consecutive pass plays, wanting to keep Maverick in rhythm, but a combination of overthrows and a deflected pass yields three incompletions.

 

The Patriots take over and go back to the run game, but the Knights run defense is in top form, and on third and nine, Luck and Randall break through on a blitz, forcing Brady to throw it away.

 

Maverick retakes the field with his eyes on #80. If the Knights are going to win this game, Johnson will have to get involved.

 

Lining up to Maverick’s left most plays, Johnson stares down Dennard, the corner he has been unable to beat. He runs routes like normal, gets no separation, and Maverick looks elsewhere.

 

Second and seven. Johnson and Wilkes both line up to the right, but Wilkes motions out, leaving Johnson and Dennard isolated. Johnson breaks on the snap, cuts left as if running a post, then cuts back toward the sideline. He looks to his quarterback and sees him hurry the pass, under pressure. But Dennard has him covered perfectly and gets in front of the pass. Johnson brings him down as he catches it, and the stadium rocks for the interception.

 

Fully knowing that was on him, Johnson sulks back to the bench, picks a spot, and enjoys the quiet while it lasts. He sees Maverick walking straight for him and braces himself, not looking forward to what is about to happen.

 

Maverick takes a seat next to his receiver, shockingly casual—it seems, at least.

 

“It’s the knee, isn’t it?” Maverick asks.

 

“What?” Johnson says, staggered and confused.

 

“The knee. You hyperextended it a few weeks back and you haven’t been yourself since. Is it still hurt?”

 

“No. Trainers say I’m good to go.”

 

“Then what’s going on, Alex? We’ve hit that play a thousand times. Whatever the problem is, you better figure it the fuck out. We need you to win this game.”

 

At the edge of the sideline, Harden watches in fear as Brady sets up shop at midfield. The Patriots get a few first downs easily, continuing to move the chains one short pass or run at a time. This, Harden decides, is why playing New England is so frustrating. He can stop them from getting large chunks of yardage, but they always get some. And for them, some is always enough.

 

With Rose holding Gronkowski out of the game (for now), the drive stalls at the twenty-six. Gostkowski comes out for the forty-three yarder, a difficult kick in this weather, and knocks it through. 23-14, Patriots.

 

 

 

During the Knights’ next drive, players are both surprised and scared when the third quarter ends. They hold four fingers in the air, looking defiant but secretly worried this could be their last quarter of the season.

 

Johnson refocuses one play at a time. With each route, he tries to plant his leg harder into the ground. He feels he’s getting something back, especially on routes where he plants with the good knee, and Maverick eventually hits him on an out for his first completion of the day.

 

A few plays later, the Knights face third and four. Maverick fakes a handoff to Jameson and looks deep—Chandler Jones drives him to the ground.

 

As the punt team trots on, many players and coaches look up at the scoreboard: 11:35 and counting.

 

 

 

The Patriots go to a run heavy offense, declaring their intention to milk the clock. Brady lets the play clock tick under five seconds before every snap.

 

A Blount run sets up a first down with the clock still ticking. Randall calls the defense’s next play and notices the Patriots’ formation: four wide receivers, Gronkowski next to the right tackle. This is a play where he and Flash cover the tight end, not Rose. Brady takes the snap, and Gronkowski runs into the flat. Randall keeps his distance. Brady fires a pass, and Gronkowski turns upfield. He runs to avoid Rose, in pursuit, and Randall lowers his shoulders. He drives his helmet forward, spiking the ball out of Gronkowski’s hands.

 

The pigskin bounces in the snow, goes through the hands of multiple players on both sides, eventually resting, visible for a brief moment before countless players pile on, desperate for possession. Somehow, Grantzinger emerges from the pile while everyone else is still jostling, football in hand, and the Knights take over.

 

 

 

As the Knights line up, Coach Everett calls a pass, well aware he has been too one-sided with his play-calling lately, but there’s no time to correct it; the Knights trail by two scores with less than nine minutes to go.

 

Johnson lines up in the slot with Watson next to him, ready to run a wheel. Maverick snaps the ball from shotgun. Johnson runs to the flat, looks back as if to catch the pass, digs his right cleat into the wet grass, and cuts upfield. He concentrates on his running for a second, then looks back. He barely has time to register that he’s beaten Dennard before a perfect pass flies into his hands. He focuses on running again, sprinting in a straight line down the sideline, difficult to make out against the snow. McCourty runs him down eventually, and he looks up, genuinely unsure where on the field he is. He gets mobbed in celebration before he realizes the Knights are on the fifteen-yard-line.

 

While Johnson gasps for air on the sideline, Maverick drops back to pass again. A blitz comes—just what he wanted. He floats the ball to the corner of the end zone, where Bishop catches it in stride. Touchdown, Knights.

 

Confidence is restored to the visitors’ sideline. It’s 23-21, Patriots, 7:46 to play.

 

 

 

New England comes out firing. Rose may have Gronkowski covered now, but Brady gets Edelman involved with two passes for seventeen yards and a first down.

 

Harden calls more unique blitzes and bump-and-run coverage, desperate for a sack. The pass rush improves, but Brady still realizes the ball too quickly for it to matter.

 

Brady gets one first down after another with precision passing, taking the clock with him. Harden looks up after every play, watching the numbers pass six minutes, then five, then four.

 

Continued balance and effectiveness puts the Patriots at the twenty-one with 3:57 and counting left on the clock. Seeing a formation he doesn’t like, Harden calls timeout. Randall jogs toward the sideline, and Harden meets him on the field.

 

“We need a stop here,” Harden says. “Our offense needs time. Keeping them out of the end zone on the next series isn’t good enough. The stand has to be now. Got it?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Randall jogs back onto the field, where a huddle has formed.

 

“Okay. This is it. No more first downs. Whatever happens, they do not cross that first down marker. Understood?” Everyone nods. “This is our season, guys. We fail tonight, we’re cleaning out lockers on Monday. Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen.”

 

First and ten. Blount takes a carry up the middle, met by both Randall and Martin after only one yard.

 

Second and nine. Brady fires to Edelman on a receiver screen. Edelman gets past one defender, but Flash brings him down five yards later.

 

Third and three. Harden calls a blitz, ready for a run or pass. The Patriots line up in an I-formation. Brady lets the clock wind and snaps the ball with 2:04 left.

 

Blitzing linebackers converge on Blount, but he doesn’t have the ball—play-action. In the secondary, Rose battles with Gronkowski while Grantzinger somehow ends up on Amendola. The receiver beats Grantzinger, running free toward the end zone. Brady steps up, looking there, but Brock blindsides him, plowing him to the grass. Officials signal the two-minute warning and freeze the clock at 1:56.

 

During the commercial break, Harden showers his defense with praise. They got a stop when they needed to. Now, the offense will get its chance. Even if Gostkowski makes the field goal, a touchdown wins the game.

 

The Knights play passive, leery of a fake, and Gostkowski’s thirty-seven yarder goes down the middle. 26-21, Patriots.

 

 

 

The snow lets up a degree, though flurries still fall from the sky, and the field is as white and slippery as it’s been all day. Maverick gathers everyone in the huddle.

 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, would we? We got 1:52 to go, two timeouts, and a touchdown wins. This is what we play for, fellas. Everyone relax. Just do your job. One first down at a time.”

 

The crowd comes to its feet for one of the most dramatic situations in football: the two-minute drill, a do-or-die scenario to decide a playoff game.

 

Maverick takes advantage of loose coverage and works the sidelines, looking up at the clock after every play. Wilkes for five yards. 1:47. Johnson for six. 1:42. Bishop for six. 1:36.

 

Maverick looks to Wilkes again, but the sideline is covered. He looks over the middle, steps up, and hits Bishop on a crossing route for twelve yards, signaling timeout to the nearest official before Bishop hits the ground. The clock stops at 1:27, the Knights at midfield.

 

Coach Everett calls a play Maverick finds odd: a screen to Jaxson. The formation sets, and Maverick doesn’t like what he sees. He audibles, screaming the call against the rising crowd noise. He takes the snap as pressure comes up the middle. He rolls right and stares down Johnson, running for the end zone but covered. He fires toward the sideline just as Johnson breaks, and the pass hits him in the chest. He dives for the sideline, but Dennard brings him down. 1:16, 1:15…

 

Maverick hurries to the line, wanting to save his last timeout. He calls the play and gets everyone lined up on the thirty-yard line. He takes the snap. Nobody looks open, and more pass rush comes over the edge. Maverick rolls left, still not finding anyone open, and lofts it out of bounds. 0:52.

 

After Everett radios the next call, he adds, “Coverage was a little soft on that play, so we’re gonna work the sidelines again.” That’s fine for Maverick. He drops back and hits Bishop in the flat. He runs upfield a few yards, jogging out of bounds. 0:45.

 

He goes back to Wilkes, still reliable on his out routes, gaining seven yards and a first down. Only 0:37 left, but the Knights are sixteen yards away from the end zone.

 

No one on the Knights sideline is sitting. Everyone tries to get the best view possible, though Coach Everett and the offensive staff have plenty of room to work. The home crowd plays its part, making noise on every play.

 

Maverick drops back and stares down Wilkes. He looks open, but McCourty lurks over the top. He fires it anyway. Wilkes and McCourty converge in the end zone, but Wilkes jumps higher. The ball hits his hands, bobbles, and falls to the grass. Maverick and his teammates nearly fall over in disappointment while the home crowd enjoys a moment of relief.

 

“Right in your hands, D-Jam,” Maverick says in the huddle.

 

“This fucking snow, man.”

 

“The snow? Really? Anyone else want to blame the snow?” Maverick looks around the huddle. His anger fades, and he wonders if calling out D-Jam in front of everyone was the best move, but it’s too late now.

 

“I got you next time, Mav.”

 

“You better.”

 

Maverick lines up in shotgun with three receivers to his right. He takes the snap and fakes a throw as if a screen is developing. The Patriots don’t bite and have everything covered. With space in front of him, Maverick runs forward. Linebackers converge, and he slides through the snow after a five-yard gain. 0:24, 0:23…

 

Whistles blow everything dead as both Everett and Harden scream for the timeout. As Maverick jogs toward the sideline, he sizes up the situation: eleven yards away, twenty-three seconds, third and five. Four-down territory. No timeouts.

 

Everett and Maverick agree on a quick play designed to either reach the end zone or go out of bounds. Maverick returns to the huddle and relays the call.

 

He lines up under center with Wilkes wide left, Johnson and Watson right. Wilkes looks doubled, so Maverick calls for Bishop to switch to the left side, putting the Knights’ best receivers on one side of the field. The defense shifts accordingly. Seeing the play clock low, Maverick starts the cadence and motions Watson to the left. A corner goes with him, leaving Johnson and Dennard isolated on the right side of the field.

 

It clicks immediately. One hot route and the Knights have a touchdown. But the play clock is at 0:02. Maverick doesn’t have time to shout the audible, so he calls it with his eyes. Please understand this, Alex. He looks at the corner, then Johnson, and takes the snap.

 

Johnson cuts across the field on a slant, per the play call, looking at his quarterback. He hopes he and Maverick are on the same page. He cuts right, toward the end zone, separating from Dennard. Maverick throws it up at the same time. He absorbs a big hit and falls back, sliding on the snow, watching the pass drift, slightly underthrown. Johnson leaps, gets both hands on it, and falls to the ground. Dennard tries to wrestle the ball loose, but Johnson doesn’t let go. Officials run in to check for possession and make their call. Touchdown, Knights.

 

Chaos unfolds on the sideline as coaches try to set up the two-point conversion. The Knights eventually get in formation, and Maverick drops back, seeing nobody covered. He tries a lob to Wilkes that sails out of the back of the end zone, and the score remains 27-26, Knights.

 

As he returns to the sidelines, Maverick receives relentless praise from his teammates and coaches. He feels like he’s back at Penn State for a moment, unable to register everything that has happened. Eventually, Coach Harden makes his way to the bench to see the quarterback.

 

“That was some Tom Brady shit, Mav,” Harden says. “You’re something else. Great fucking job.”

 

“Thanks, coach,” Maverick says, shaking hands with the head coach.

 

The kickoff return brings the clock to 0:17, with which the Patriots can only manage a few short catches and a Hail Mary attempt that lands ten yards short of the end zone.

 

Fans head up snow-covered stairs for the exits, forced to deal with the anguish of their team going one and done. The Knights, meanwhile, storm the field. Coach Harden, normally a walker, jogs to midfield to shake hands with Belichick, unknowingly avoiding a Gatorade bath in the process.

 

Plenty of cameras capture the quick handshake, as well as the meeting of both men wearing #12. Similar exchanges take place between players, but the dark blue jerseys make their way off the field, leaving the Knights to celebrate in the snow.

Edited July 26, 2015 by SteVo

[seanbrock 1,684]

That was awesome. Fuck the Pats. Knights are proving to be a really well rounded young football team. Holding NE to 26 at home with a couple turnovers and making the plays to win the game at the end. Great stuff. It's cool seeing the team grow up this year and really come together during the playoff run.

[Vin+ 3,121]

Yep, we gon' get Lucked.

[seanbrock 1,684]

Yep, we gon' get Lucked.

Since we're 8th seed we have to get past Denver right?

[SteVo+ 3,702]

We play the winner of Colts/Broncos, which will be revealed at the beginning of next week's chapter, and probably in the teaser too.

[Bangy 19]

This was unexpected, honestly thought we would lose. Great job on the writing Stevo. Honestly though oh no when you mentioned Jaxson jumping into the end zone again.

[Thanatos 2,847]

After reading that entire chapter, I only have one question:

 

"One by one, they catch sight of a hazy fag on the field"

 

WHO IS THE HAZY FAG? Cuda? Phil? Inquiring minds must know, Stevo.

[SteVo+ 3,702]

LOL. Nice catch, Thanatos. Edited.

[BwareDWare94 723]

Loved it, man. I don't know what else to say

[RazorStar 4,025]

Crushing the Patriots feels so good. Although I got completely manhandled that game. The Colts will be better prey.

[Sarge+ 3,436]

 

I was on the edge of my seat the entire time reading it. Thought for sure we would lose. Can't wait to see what happens next.

[Maverick 791]

Basically my assessment of Jonathan Maverick after this chapter/game:

 

 

Awesome stuff, Steven. I remember I tried describing soccer games a few years back when I was writing a fan fiction and compared to this it was terrible lol.

[Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014]

Still reading every chapter like this:

 

When I got to the Johnson TD reveal I let out a triumphant, "fuck yes!"

 

 

 

Great chapter. So exciting and it was awesome seeing everyone get their plays in. Randall FF, Grantzinger FR, Brock and Luck sacks, Rose doing Revis things, both RBs and all the WRs getting into the action. Superb.

 

Now that we've beaten the Patriots, I 100% expect us to lose in the AFCCG.

[SteVo+ 3,702]

That's clever, Zack, but how do you scroll through TGP when Notepad is your primary file open? Meaning, how can you scroll through TGP with Notepad still covering it?

[Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014]

That's clever, Zack, but how do you scroll through TGP when Notepad is your primary file open? Meaning, how can you scroll through TGP with Notepad still covering it?

I slowly drag the window down, line by line, then when I get to the bottom I highlight the last word, squint/make my eyes blurry, then switch to the TGP window and scroll until the highlighted part is at the top, then go back to the notepad.

 

I started doing it because naturally my eyes get drawn to the score, paragraphs down, and it ruins the flow/surprise.

Edited July 27, 2015 by Zack_of_Steel

[SteVo+ 3,702]

[theMileHighGuy 656]

D-Jam ain't about no snow

 

Awesome chapter Probably my favorite game sequence thus far in KoA.