Knights of Andreas 4.02: Next Man Up

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Knights of Andreas

Part IV

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Chapter Forty-Three – Next Man Up

 

 

 

Chance Phillips stands just outside the door labeled “MEDIA ROOM,” savoring the silence of the hallway before entering the chaos on the other side.

 

The Knights have not publicly commented since Harden’s post-game press conference last night, when he simply used the phrase “shoulder injury.” In the thirteen hours since, the media has reported the exact nature of the injury, and they’ve gotten it right. Phillips is about to tell the sports world what it already knows.

 

He opens the door, and the entire crowd comes to its feet, phones and cameras pointed at the podium. Phillips looks out into the audience, the fullest it’s been in some time, and feels the heat from camera lights on his face. He raises the microphone and clears his throat.

 

“I’d like to make a brief statement. Jonathan Maverick has an AC joint separation in his right shoulder. As of now, he is out indefinitely. Unfortunately, this is one of those medical situations where we just can’t put a number on it. Now, let me answer a few questions that I’m sure you all have. Surgery is not planned at this time. Jonathan will not be going on injured reserve because we believe he might return this season. Having said that, we’re dealing with an injury to his throwing shoulder, so we’re going to take every precaution possible. As for our roster, Max Buchanan is our starting quarterback.”

 

 

 

With the Knights’ next pick in the 2013 draft approaching and no trade intentions, the war room gets as anxious as it can for a sixth-round pick. Among a big board containing hundreds of names, the prospect currently at the top is a quarterback.

 

“Let’s hear the scouting report one more time,” Phillips says.

 

The head offensive scout flips through his binder. “Max Buchanan, Washington State. Six-foot-three, 212 pounds. Slightly below average arm strength, average but inconsistent accuracy. Looks his best when his first read is open. Struggles going through progressions and often locks onto receivers. Solid fundamentals, good footwork. No off the field concerns whatsoever. Very passive on the field, doesn’t show many leadership qualities. No medical red flags.”

 

“Tom,” Phillips says, looking at Coach Everett. “Based on the tape, what do you think?”

 

“I think,” Everett says, “at this point in the draft, he’s a good developmental pick.”

 

“So, any objections, then?” Nobody appears to have any. The next few picks pass, Buchanan stays on the board, and when the Knights go on the clock, they draft their first quarterback since taking Jonathan Maverick third overall in 2010.

 

 

 

Phillips crams into one of many chairs surrounding the table in Wayne Schneider’s office. Flanked by two men he trusts, Paul DeMartine (assistant general manager) and Michal Keegan (special assistant to the general manager), Phillips sees plenty of unwelcome faces representing the business end of football, along with the team’s head doctors, led by Dr. Evans. Coach Harden and most of the offensive coaching staff sit in chairs creating a makeshift outer ring around the table. As far as Phillips can recall, he’s never seen the office this packed.

 

Schneider calls the meeting to order, and Evans rises from the end of the table, adjusting his tie. Evans in a suit is a rare sight, but like everyone else, he is fully aware of this meeting’s importance.

 

“Jonathan has a grade 3 AC joint separation,” Evans says. “While these injuries are commonly known as separated shoulders, what it technically means is ligament damage. The ligament connecting his clavicle and acromion bones is damaged, and the two bones have become displaced.”

 

“Okay, doc,” Schneider says, seeing the uncomfortable looks around the table. “Let’s talk treatment and recovery.”

 

“Yes, sir. Jonathan’s shoulder has already been immobilized and iced, which it will be for some time. Now, I want to emphasize something. As I said, Jonathan’s injury is a grade 3, but it’s very close to a grade 4. The grade of an AC joint injury is not definitive, in the same way a category 3 hurricane can vary in severity. What’s important to understand here is that grade 3 separations are tricky. Most of the time, we continue treating it conservatively, and the shoulder responds, in which case I’m cautiously optimistic he could return by the end of the season. Possibly even before December.”

 

“And if it doesn’t respond to treatment?” Phillips asks.

 

“Surgery.”

 

There’s an audible sound in the room as people shift in their chairs and rub their temples. They don’t need Dr. Evans to tell them surgery would be the end of Maverick’s season, and probably the team’s as well.

 

 

 

Tuesday morning, the most popular man in the locker room is the only one not dressing for practice. Maverick moves from locker to locker with his right arm in a sling and a wad of crushed ice pressed against his shoulder. He appreciates the support he gets from teammates, though he ends up having the same conversations over and over.

 

“I’ll be back,” he says to just about everyone. “Hold the fort for a little while.”

 

When he gets to Brock, they have a longer, more pleasant conversation.

 

“Guess this ends our club adventures for a while,” Brock says.

 

“I guess so. It’s all good. We had fun this offseason.”

 

“We did, we did. Heal up soon, Mav.”

 

They bump fists and Maverick moves on to the next locker. After he’s far enough away, Brock says, “Poor guy’s gotta masturbate left handed. Sucks.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Sean,” Grantzinger says.

 

Around the five lockers occupied by the team’s starting offensive linemen, the mood is somber. Led by a dejected Penner, the linemen apologize to Maverick and wish him a speedy recovery. Adams is extra apologetic, having allowed the pressure that got Maverick hurt.

 

“Never again,” Penner tells his quarterback. “We’ll get it fixed. Heal up, and we’ll make sure you don’t touch the grass.”

 

“I sure hope so,” Maverick says, shaking hands with his center.

 

Penner actually pancaked his defender to the ground on the play where Maverick got injured, but that doesn’t matter. A hit on the quarterback given up by anyone is a hit given up by the offensive line, and they, as a unit, need to do better.

 

Maverick eventually comes to a young, light-brown-haired kid, already in full uniform, studying the playbook as if he’s about to take an exam on it.

 

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself, Max,” Maverick says.

 

“Trying not to,” Buchanan says. “You’ll be here for practice, right?”

 

“Most days. When I don’t have some bullshit rehab thing to do.”

 

 

 

Players and coaches step onto the practice field with all eyes on Buchanan. McKenzie begins what will surely be a turbulent week; the playbook for Jacksonville is very much subject to change and probably won’t be finalized until Friday. He’s spent an entire offseason with Buchanan, of course, but with so little playing experience, it’s hard to know what to expect.

 

McKenzie has his receiving corps and new quarterback start with all the simple route trees, three-step drops with quick throws. He watches Buchanan’s every movement: footwork, shoulders, release point.

 

The kid looks good. He throws accurate passes with decent velocity. McKenzie moves the routes progressively further down the field. Once beyond ten yards, the throws up the middle begin to look much better than the ones toward the sideline.

 

At ease from the relief that Buchanan shouldn’t be a total disaster, McKenzie calls on the scout defense.

 

It doesn’t take long for Buchanan to start throwing interceptions, and the scouting report rings in McKenzie’s head. Looks best when his first read is open, often stares down receivers. As soon as players get a break, McKenzie pounces.

 

“Max! Don’t grab a drink, get over here.” Buchanan jogs toward his offensive coordinator while everyone else drinks some water.

 

“Yeah, coach?”

 

“When that first read is covered, don’t throw the fucking ball. Understand?” Buchanan nods. “Always know your second guy before the snap. Know where you’re going if you don’t get the coverage you want. And if all else fails, a sack is better than an interception. I don’t give a damn how much it hurts, I don’t give a damn how hard you get hit, I don’t give a damn if you break twelve bones and end your career. A sack is always better than an interception. Got it?”

 

Visibly shaken, Buchanan nods again. McKenzie steps toward the sideline.

 

“Alright, ladies, let’s get back to it!”

 

 

 

Practice concludes, and Harden staggers to his stupid press conference, not looking forward to a barrage of the same questions about his quarterback situation.

 

He gets situated at the podium and the first question is, of course, about Maverick’s health. Anything new?

 

“No.”

 

What about Buchanan? How does he look so far?

 

“Couldn’t tell you. I coach the defense, not the offense.”

 

But you’re the head coach, Merle.

 

“I trust Mac’s input when it comes to the offense.”

 

Okay, so what does McKenzie say?

 

“Good things so far.”

 

So what about the overall dynamic of the team with such a huge injury?

 

Less than a minute in, and Harden has already had enough. “Listen, I’m not gonna sit here and give you guys the ‘woe is us’ routine. Injuries happen in football. It’s a tough game. People get hurt. You deal with it. You move on. This team got to the Super Bowl last year for a reason. We win football games because we’re not dependent on any one player, quarterback or otherwise. So, honestly, I’m not worried about it. Will we have our struggles? Of course we will. But every guy in that locker room knows what they have to do.”

 

That quote renders the rest of the press conference useless. The Knights head coach’s defiant statement becomes its own headline over the next few hours: “Harden ‘not worried’ about Maverick injury.”

 

The fan reaction on sports radio is vicious.

 

“Not worried? This Buchanan kid better be special, then, or else that’s an incredibly dumb thing to say.”

 

“I know we’ve seen Harden be cavalier about a lot of things, but he’s not worried? Not worried about an injury to his starting quarterback? Is he aware of what’s going on? C’mon, Merle.”

 

“So he’s just gonna focus on defense while the offense crashes and burns, taking our whole season along with it? Yeah, that sounds like a great plan.”

 

“That’s just another example of why Harden should be a defensive coordinator, not a head coach.”

 

“He better be doing a hell of a job coaching that defense, because they’re gonna be on the field a lot this year.”

 

 

 

For the first time in 2014, Knights fans pack Farmers Field to see their home team play, though the quarterback situation fills the air with uncertainty. At least their opponent today is the 0-1 Jaguars. On the other hand, if the Knights can’t beat Jacksonville without Maverick, their season is probably over already.

 

Among the crowd of black, plenty of spectators sport #12 jerseys with “Maverick” on the back. Nobody wears Buchanan’s #6. This game was supposed to be marketed as a battle between two quarterbacks drafted third overall in their respective drafts. Instead, the Knights huddle around Max Buchanan, the 2013 draft’s 184th selection.

 

On the sidelines, Coach McKenzie holds a large sheet of laminated paper. With Buchanan’s limited knowledge and experience, only half of the playbook is fair game today, and that’s not even considering his no-huddle ideas, which can probably be shelved for this year. For key situations today, McKenzie will give Buchanan two plays (one run, one pass) to choose from at the line of scrimmage. Freedom to audible is out of the question, but McKenzie can only simplify things so much. This is the NFL.

 

Buchanan opens his career with multiple handoffs. The Knights dominate the point of attack, and Jameson chews through decent chunks of yardage. Three runs and seventeen yards later, it’s second and four, a favorable down and distance for Buchanan’s first pass, McKenzie decides.

 

Buchanan fakes a handoff, drops back, and fires over the middle. Bishop catches it, tackled immediately for five yards and a first down. The home crowd cheers for Buchanan’s first career completion.

 

The rest of the drive is more of the same: Jameson chewing up yardage with a few safe throws mixed in. The Knights reach field goal range, Buchanan overthrows an end zone shot for Watson on third down, and they settle for a 3-0 lead.

 

Blake Bortles and the Jaguars take over, and the Knights immediately expose their weak offensive line. They get penetration on every snap and force a quick three-and-out.

 

The Knights continue the same strategy on offense, letting Jameson lead the way with Buchanan making easy throws here and there. They reach field goal range again, and a draw play to Jameson catches the defense off guard. Jameson accelerates through open grass, meets a defender inside the five-yard line, and carries him to the end zone with him. Touchdown, Knights.

 

The Jaguars offense gets suffocated again, and uneasiness subsides as fans gradually realize the Jaguars aren’t very good, and the Knights have this game in the bag as long as they don’t mess it up. McKenzie realizes this too, holding his play calls to simple throws that don’t call on Buchanan to take any chances.

 

The score remains 10-0 until just before halftime, when the Jags finally string a few first downs together, reaching midfield.

Bortles drops back to pass, and a screen develops to his right. He lofts it up, but Grantzinger is right there. He grabs it out of midair and breaks for the end zone. None of the nearby linemen has a shot to run him down. Touchdown, Knights.

 

Grantzinger receives praise from every player and coach on the sideline, and the Knights take a 17-0 lead into halftime.

 

The second half brings more of the same, though Buchanan’s shortcomings start to show, limiting the offense and making the game downright boring. Buchanan eventually throws an interception that leads to a Jaguars field goal, but the Knights get a field goal of their own on the ensuing series.

 

The Jaguars eventually take over with decent field position, down 20-3 with 10:22 to go in the fourth quarter—gut-check time for them.

 

Harden watches a blitz converge on Bortles. Stevenson gets there first, but Bortles steps up, avoiding him. Grantzinger is next, and he brings the quarterback to the ground. The stadium cheers for the sack, but Harden sees a Knight hobbling away from the pile. It’s Stevenson, favoring his left leg.

 

“Goddamn it,” Harden says as trainers surround Stevenson on the sideline. “Bobby! Go!”

 

From the bench, second-year strong safety Robert Schwinn rises.

 

“Yes, sir!” he says with a Texas accent as he runs onto the field and takes Stevenson’s spot. Harden doesn’t alter his play calling strategy, wanting another big play to end the game.

 

Bortles lines up in shotgun with four wide receivers as Farmers Field gets loud. The Knights back off the line, then blitz on the snap. Bortles sees the pressure and fires toward the sideline. Grantzinger gets his arm up and tips it. It bounces off a helmet and into Luck’s arms for the interception. The defense celebrates the play, and the imminent victory.

 

 

 

Monday morning brings relief for Knights fans. Despite the demoralizing Super Bowl loss, this offseason was filled with optimism for a rising team, and Maverick’s injury crushed all of it. Now, at the very least, the Knights have proven all is not lost with Buchanan.

 

The quarterback’s debut featured an unimpressive stat line—20 of 36 for 212 yards, 0 TDs, 1 INT—but he looked relatively comfortable and faced little pressure. The Knights’ rookie offensive tackles looked much better (albeit against a weak Jaguars defense), only beaten by defenders on long dropbacks. Ultimately, and most importantly, Buchanan played well enough to give the Knights a chance to win.

 

Their 2-0 record ties the Knights with Denver for first in the AFC West, while San Diego is 1-1 and Kansas City is 0-2. Next week’s game, however, will likely be their toughest test yet, as the Knights return to Foxborough for a Sunday Night Football match against the Patriots.

 

Not long after the coaches have gotten to work, Phillips heads downstairs to deliver news to his head coach, accompanied by Keegan. They find Harden in a film room, studying tape of the Patriots and drinking iced coffee. They barely break his concentration.

 

“What?” Harden finally says.

 

“In case it wasn’t obvious,” Phillips says, “no Maverick this week. Officially.”

 

“Unbelievable. Didn’t think it would take him this long to learn how to throw left-handed.”

 

“The overall timeline is still unclear, but from the sound of things, I’d guess at least eight weeks.”

 

“Terrific. Any more good news?”

 

“Yes, actually. Got Stevenson’s MRI results. Slight MCL tear. We’re looking at four to six weeks.”

 

“That’s fucking fantastic.”

 

“I’m guessing Schwinn gets the start?”

 

“Who the hell else?”

 

Harden sips more coffee and takes more notes, clearly disinterested in further conversation. Phillips and Keegan leave without another word.

 

“He seems grumpier than usual,” Keegan says.

 

“Yes, he does.”

 

 

 

As day three of the 2013 NFL Draft begins, a few of the Knights’ top targets come off the board. Phillips won’t be trading up, though; patience has been a priority this year, and that will continue here in the fourth round.

 

With two picks to go, the top prospect on the board is someone new head coach Merle Harden likes. As usual, he and the scouts disagree over the prospect’s value.

 

“Scouting report,” Phillips instructs.

 

The head defensive scout reads as Harden listens intently. “Robert Schwinn, Texas State. Six-foot-two, 215 pounds. In-the-box safety. Excellent in run support, rarely misses tackles. Very suspect in coverage. Experience is a concern, only started 13 games.”

 

“That all sounds right,” Harden says, turning to Phillips. “If he pans out, he’s basically a post-prime Chet Ripka. He stacks the box while Flash plays centerfield.”

 

“Any off-the-field red flags?” Schneider asks the scout.

 

“No health concerns. Known as a bit of a joker in the locker room, though.”

 

“That sound like your type of player, coach?” Phillips asks Harden.

 

“If he can play, he’s my type,” Harden says.

 

That shuts everyone up until the Knights go on the clock. Phillips has already addressed the strong safety position in the wake of Ripka’s retirement by signing Sebastian Stevenson, but he’s essentially a stopgap. No harm in getting some depth in the fourth round, and if Schwinn turns into a starter down the line, that’s even better.

 

Phillips waits a few minutes for trade offers, then phones in Schwinn’s name to New York.

 

 

 

Players dress in the locker room Tuesday morning, excited for multiple reasons. It’s always good to start 2-0, no matter the circumstances, and this week’s trip to New England brings back fond memories of the Knights’ iconic victory there last January. Of course, this time there will be no Maverick, and (barring something unprecedented) no snow.

 

One of the least excited players, however, is the team’s leading receiver, Logan Bishop. The tight end has 15 receptions and was Buchanan’s go-to receiver last Sunday, piling up 16 targets, almost half of Buchanan’s pass attempts. And yet, things aren’t as good as they could be.

 

Everything happened so fast this offseason, Bishop never got a chance to reflect on it all: Everett’s sudden departure, McKenzie’s hiring, and then the wedding. He never realized it before, but if he had a chance, Bishop probably would have left Los Angeles.

 

McKenzie’s in your face, authoritarian style represents everything Bishop dislikes about coaches, everything he hated about New England. His experience with McKenzie has been positive so far, but he knows not to take that too seriously. But what does it matter at this point? Bishop’s new contract binds him to the team through 2018, by which point he will (if everything goes according to plan) have a family to take care of, making moving very difficult.

 

Did he make a mistake re-signing with the Knights in the first place?

 

“Logan!” a voice calls.

 

Bishop looks up and sees his offensive coordinator staring him down. The surprise leaves him too frozen to respond.

“Can I see you in my office for a second?” McKenzie asks.

 

Bishop nods and heads toward the end of the locker room, leaving his helmet behind. He realizes immediately that the coach isn’t about to yell at him for anything.

 

“I’ll get straight to it, Logan,” McKenzie says. “As long as Mav is out, I want you to be a leader in the huddle.”

 

“Okay, coach,” Bishop says, not really understanding what he means by that.

 

“I think Max can be a good quarterback, but he’s not a good leader. From what I saw over the summer and from what I’ve heard, this offense doesn’t thrive just because Maverick is a good quarterback. It feeds off his presence, his energy. Buchanan doesn’t have that.”

 

“All due respect, coach, but I’ve never seen myself as a rah-rah guy on the field.”

 

“You’re not. And that’s fine. I’m talking more about X’s and O’s. Adding instructions in the huddle, telling receivers how to adjust their route if they see certain coverage, all the subtle things that experienced players can make in the huddle. If you can do that, I think we’re a much better football team.”

 

“That sounds good. But what about the...energy, as you called it?”

 

“I think Brian will bring more than enough.”

 

McKenzie smiles, and Bishop does too.

 

“He definitely will.”

 

 

 

The sound from the television in the living room reaches the kitchen, but Maverick focuses on the eggs frying on the stove. While his right arm hangs in a sling, he grips the spatula with his left hand and slides it under the first egg. He lifts, rotates, and the egg falls back onto the pan, sizzling. Some yellow yolk leaks out from the bottom.

 

“Motherfucker,” Maverick says.

 

He tries again on the other egg, deliberately rotating more slowly. It hits the pan—no yellow. Relieved, he goes through the process of getting the eggs from the pan to a plate, one of many household chores now infinitely more complicated.

 

The doctors said he would continue “activities of daily living” after only a few days, and they were full of shit. No activity is easy with your dominant arm rendered useless. Reaching for plates requires lifting the bowls on top of them, a seemingly routine activity—that requires two hands. His arm has to stay in this damn sling for a few more weeks, the doctors say, though all Maverick keeps asking them is when he can throw a football again. They don’t know.

 

He takes his meal with him to the couch, switching back and forth between NFL Network and the Penn State game. The Nittany Lions are up 20-0 on measly Massachusetts, so Maverick eagerly waits for NFLN to get to the Knights.

 

When they do, they analyze Buchanan’s performance against Jacksonville. Maverick sees the same mistakes they do: spotty mechanics, erratic accuracy, bad decisions caused by staring down receivers. He also can’t help but notice the improvement in pass protection from last week. They couldn’t have done that against New York?

 

He looks down at his right shoulder and decides to test it. He moves it back and forth, very, very slowly. Nothing. No pain. It feels a little tight, but that’s it. He moves his arm around in a small circular pattern. He feels more tightness, and then a flash of pain when he stretches it too far.

 

He goes back to eating his eggs.

 

 

 

The Knights take the field under the lights of Gillette Stadium with a great opportunity before them. Denver’s 26-20 loss to Seattle drops them to 2-1, so the Knights can take first place with a win tonight.

 

Harden’s defense takes the field first, and he watches helplessly as Tom Brady goes down the field with ease. The pass rush is lacking, and Brady hits checkdown after checkdown, reaching the red zone quickly. Once there, he throws toward the sideline for Brandon LaFell, who beats Marshall in coverage and walks into the end zone.

 

McKenzie ignores the 7-0 deficit and sticks to his game plan. Jameson gets stuffed twice, Buchanan rushes an incompletion on third down, and the Knights defense has to come right back onto the field.

 

Brady continues gashing the Knights, using slot receivers and a heavy dose of Rob Gronkowski. The Knights tighten up in the red zone, however, allowing the Patriots to add only a pair of field goals in the first half.

 

It takes until the second quarter for the Knights to cross midfield on offense. McKenzie realizes the Patriots are treating Jameson as the key offensive threat, taking him out of the game with eight- and nine-man boxes. Jameson manages only 2.8 yards per carry in the first half.

 

A helpless feeling hangs over the Knights’ sideline, unlike the excitement of the past two weeks. There’s no way around it; they’re being dominated.

 

The Knights finally get on the board before halftime when Buchanan throws into double coverage, but the ball tips around and miraculously ends up in Watson’s hands, and he sprints to the end zone for Buchanan’s first career touchdown pass.

 

The Knights come out of the locker room down 13-7, and another New England field goal makes it 16-7. Unable to lean on a steady run game, McKenzie decides to rest Jameson and get his two backups, Darren Banks and Jeremy NesSmith, in the game. This stops the stacked defensive fronts, but neither runner is able to chew through defenders like Jameson, and the Knights’ running attack improves only slightly, though the Knights do add a field goal.

 

Near the end of the third quarter, Grantzinger forces a fumble on a Stevan Ridley carry that he recovers himself, giving the Knights the ball in field goal range. With New England’s pass rush lacking, Buchanan hits open receivers quickly, but the drive stalls on the two-yard line after three consecutive stuffed running plays. Harden opts not to go for it, and the chip shot field goal makes it 16-13, Patriots.

 

Brady responds with another methodical drive resulting in another field goal. The Knights get the ball back with 9:52 left, but Buchanan stares down Wilkes on a crossing route and throws an interception. A few plays later, the Patriots are in the red zone. A defensive miscommunication leaves Gronkowski wide open, and Brady doesn’t miss him. As Gronk crosses the goal line, Flash decks him with a helmet-to-helmet hit that draws a personal foul and almost starts a fight.

 

Down 26-13, the Knights have no choice but to air it out. Buchanan, surprisingly, looks poised out of the shotgun and hits his receivers for multiple first downs. After surrendering a sack, however, the Knights face third and nine from midfield.

 

The stadium gets loud with screaming fans and the incessant boom of the Boston Bruins’ goal horn. Buchanan lines up in shotgun and takes the snap. Pressure comes from his right, flushing him left. More pressure comes, and Buchanan throws off his back foot over the middle. The pass wobbles through the air and into the arms of Devin McCourty. He takes it the other way and outruns everyone for a pick six.

 

The extra point makes it 33-13. The Knights’ sideline is the only quiet spot in the stadium as players and coaches try to shake off the twenty-point thrashing, their first blowout loss in almost a year and largest defeat since 2012.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[RazorStar 4,025]

RIP Our season.

[Vin+ 3,121]

[Cherry 1,302]

Grantzinger for MVP.

[Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014]

Grantzinger for MVP.

[theMileHighGuy 656]

RIP

 

Locker room be like

 

[SteVo+ 3,702]

Bumpity bump. Only five replies?

[Maverick 791]

Defense is going to have to step up big time for the rest of the season.

 

Good chapter though, Steve. You're an excellent writer.