Knights of Andreas 5.06: Uneasy Lies

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Knights of Andreas

Part V

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Chapter Sixty-One – Uneasy Lies

 

 

 

Players stand idly by their lockers, glancing occasionally at the locked double doors from which reporters will soon appear. This media session shouldn’t last longer than thirty minutes, after which players’ only responsibility today is film review. Coach Harden historically gives his players very light bye weeks, and last Sunday’s win means this year is no exception.

 

Three players huddle together near Watson’s locker, including Bishop and the man he picked to help him on this task, Sam Luck.

 

“How do you feel?” Luck asks.

 

“A little nervous,” Watson says.

 

“Don’t be. You’re just having a conversation with these people.”

 

“Don’t be nervous. Right.”

 

“I’m no speech therapist, but when you get in front of those cameras, you gotta tell them what they want to hear.”

 

“What they want to hear.”

 

“Yes. More importantly for you, keep it short and sweet. Give them an answer and move on. The shorter your answers, the shorter the interview. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“And one more thing. If they ask you a really dumb question, a one-word answer is fine. Got it?”

 

“Got it.”

 

The three separate as reporters fill the room and find their first interviewees. The wide receivers draw plenty of attention with Alex Johnson’s gruesome injury a solemn, hot topic. Fans want to know how the Knights will replace a player who was on pace for 130 catches and 13 touchdowns.

 

Javad walks in with the crowd, recorder in hand, and eyes his primary target. The locker has a big audience already, so he’ll wait. He can be patient on this one. In the meantime, he goes for another receiver.

 

Watson focuses on his breathing and doesn’t stare into the lights. He maintains eye contact with the reporter asking the question, like Luck said.

 

“Joe, what do you think will happen now, with Alex’s injury?”

 

“Man, it was a tough one to watch, but, I think we’ll be okay. We have a good team.”

 

“Will this mean an increased role for you in the passing game?”

 

“Probably.” He wants to say more, but he remembers Luck’s advice about one-word answers.

 

“Do you think your drops will continue to be a problem?”

 

He hesitates. Of course someone would bring it up. But it’s fine. He just says, “No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I’m gonna keep working to be the best player I can be. That’s all.”

 

Interviews continue and conclude around the room. Reporters circulate from locker to locker while some leave, business finished until Coach Harden’s presser this afternoon. Between interviews, Javad notices only two reporters around Jefferspin-Wilkes’ locker. He goes for it.

 

“…so,” Wilkes says, answering a previous question, “I think we got the guys around us to be okay. We all feel for Alex right now, but we got to keep focused on football.”

 

“D-Jam,” Javad says, extending his recorder and extracting a piece of paper from his pocket, “a writer at ESPN had some interesting things to say about your role in the offense, with Johnson hurt. What do you think of this?”

 

He hands the slip of paper to Wilkes, who examines it as if it’s a piece of evidence from a crime scene.

 

“Um. Interesting.”

 

“Interesting? What do you think about what he’s saying?”

 

Wilkes shifts his focus off the paper and towards Javad. In a blink, his face transforms from curious to annoyed as he crumbles up the paper.

 

“You know what, what is this, man? You hand me a piece of paper and ask me to—You know, just ask me questions next time, man.”

 

He flicks the paper back at Javad, who puts on a confused look. The other reporters seem confused as well. The camera captures Wilkes walking away, with Bishop and Watson shaking hands in the background, before switching off.

 

Javad walks away calmly, his objective achieved for now. He doesn’t have anything against Wilkes personally; this is about making life difficult for Phillips, and it’s going to work.

 

A few hours later, Javad does a phone interview with a reporter from the Knights official web site, something low key and off the radar, just what he wants. They talk football, the Knights and the league as a whole, eventually getting to today’s interview.

 

“Adam, you had a strange moment with D-Jam today where he sort of just got mad out of nowhere. What was up with that? What happened there?”

 

“Well, as you can tell, I wanted him to read a piece of an article I felt had a unique view of the Knights’ receiving corps. The section was a few paragraphs long, so I felt it would be tedious to say it all aloud. And…you know, this is a little strange…”

 

“What’s that, Adam?”

 

“I don’t know this for sure. It’s just something I’ve suspected for a while now…I don’t think he can read.”

 

 

 

The coaching staff sits at the film room’s long table, glancing between the projector screen and their head coach. Everyone sits up, attentive and focused as Harden highlights a few things he wants to emphasize against Cincinnati next week: good tackling, intensity, proper audible execution. He calls to attention multiple plays where the Knights had to make a shift in the secondary, and they did so perfectly.

 

“Good on the players to get this right,” Harden says, “but these are all perfect adjustments by Chet.”

 

Near the middle of the table, Coach Ripka nods as fellow coaches pat him on the back.

 

“If any of you clowns want to know what good in-game coaching is, take a look at Chet. Less than a year on the job and he’s already better than half of you assholes.”

 

Some of the coaches chuckle as Ripka keeps smiling. At the front of the table, closest to Harden, McKenzie isn’t laughing. Something about this meeting makes him uncomfortable, and it gets worse when Harden finds more reasons to praise Ripka’s coaching prowess. McKenzie knows Harden rarely delves into offensive plays, but how about some recognition for putting 38 points on the board? McKenzie holds the rank of assistant head coach, but he feels invisible in his seat.

 

 

 

Schneider assembles Phillips, Stein, Harden, and McKenzie in his office for what is surely the strangest meeting of the year. He keeps things casual, instructing everyone to relax as he leans against his desk.

 

“There’s a rather odd story going around, and it’s gaining traction,” Schneider says. “I’m wondering if any of you have caught wind of it.” Nobody speaks, though a few have an idea. “Jefferspin-Wilkes.” Now they know.

 

“The reading thing?” McKenzie asks.

 

“Yes, the reading thing. I never thought we’d have to actually talk about this, but here we are.”

 

Phillips rubs his temples, stressed and surprised that this has actually become a topic of discussion. He has let a few people know what Logan Bishop told him back in 2012, creating a rumor that had evolved into urban legend over time—until now.

 

“Out of respect for Wilkes,” Schneider says, “we can’t admit this publicly. Imagine if it’s true, the poor guy. Coach McKenzie, see to it that he finds his way up here first thing Tuesday morning. In the meantime, we’ll draft a formal statement. That will be all, gentlemen, thank you.”

 

All four spectators head for the doorway, but Schneider calls Phillips back into the room.

 

“I want that report from Stein by Wednesday,” Schneider says once everyone else has gone.

 

“What report from Stein?” Phillips asks.

 

“The trade deadline. Potential targets and projected draft or player compensation needed to acquire them.”

 

“I didn’t realize we were looking into a trade, Wayne. What positions?”

 

“Cornerback. Do you really have to ask?”

 

“Listen, I don’t think—”

 

Schneider waves his hand. “Due diligence, Chance. Due diligence. Nothing more.”

 

Phillips nods and walks down to Stein’s office.

 

 

 

The league rolls into the weekend with the Knights on their bye week, though they still find themselves in the news.

 

Alex Johnson’s surgery was successful, according to multiple reports. News of the Knights placing him on injured reserve surprises no one. His season is over, and his availability for week 1 next season will be unknown for months.

 

The Jefferspin-Wilkes reading story is far from breaking news but still garners attention as the Knights issue a brief statement denying the allegations. Nothing new comes to light after that, but the story’s circulation in the media digs up old rumors. Wilkes was reportedly on academic probation at both USC and Coastal Carolina, though he was never suspended for academic reasons. A month before the Seahawks drafted him fourth overall, rumors spread that he scored a 9 on the Wonderlic.

 

By the time week 7 has ended, the league has five unbeaten teams, including the Bengals, the Knights’ week 8 opponent.

 

 

 

The locker room is half-full when Jameson arrives Tuesday morning. He gets ready to put on his pads when a voice calls from the other side of the room.

 

“Marcus!”

 

He spins around and sees Coach McKenzie staring him down.

 

“Yeah, coach?”

 

“My office.”

 

Jameson leaves his locker and nervously takes a seat across from McKenzie, who looks surprisingly relaxed.

 

“You’re going to learn this today when you see the playbook,” McKenzie says, “but I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

 

“What’s up, coach?”

 

“With Alex out for the year, we’re gonna have to lean on the run game a lot more. Like we did last year with Buchanan.”

 

“I’m fine with that.”

 

“That means a lot of carries for you, Marcus.”

 

Jameson shrugs. McKenzie is talking like there’s some sort of problem.

 

“This may not be my place, Marcus, but you’re a free agent after this year. I know my job is to keep you focused on this season, but you have to think, at least a little bit, about preserving yourself long-term.”

 

“No,” Jameson says quickly. “That’s not the way football’s supposed to be played.”

 

McKenzie smiles. “Good man. I’ll see you on the practice field.”

 

Jameson smiles back and returns to his locker to change. On his way, he sees Wilkes walk in, visibly distressed.

 

Wilkes keeps close to his locker, wanting to attract as little attention as possible. The locker room, however, is in need of comic relief, and the stories surrounding Wilkes make him an ideal target.

 

“Say, partner,” Schwinn calls from across the room, “when you’re done with that new Dr. Seuss book, can I read it?”

 

Wilkes ignores the laughter behind him. Happy to spearhead the insults, Schwinn keeps going.

 

“Hey fellas, who knew when the scouts said ‘has difficulty reading coverage,’ that’s what they were talking about?”

 

An even bigger round of laughs erupts. Wilkes tries to focus on putting his pads on properly, grateful when an assistant coach comes in to settle everyone down. A low level of chatter populates the room with no further insults.

 

Forced to think about his situation, Wilkes replays Schwinn’s first insult in his head, about borrowing a book. It clicks.

 

“Son of a bitch,” he says. He paces a few lockers down, where Bishop is almost done changing. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

 

“What?” Bishop says.

 

“It was you. Back when you wanted me to read that stupid book. You knew I didn’t read it somehow.”

 

“Whoa, whoa—”

 

“So then you go and tell the guys upstairs about it? Are you serious, man?”

 

“Listen, D-Jam, I was trying to—”

 

“Fuck you, Logan.”

 

Bishop considers following him to his locker, decides against it, and throws on the rest of his pads in frustration.

 

 

 

Farmers Field is loud to start the third quarter. A wild first half ended with the Knights on top, 21-20, and fans sense what a monumental victory this would be if they can hang on.

 

On offense, the Knights show no side effects of Johnson’s departure. Watson slides into the number-two receiver spot, still working mostly out of the slot with Ben Larkhill outside, and employs a varied route tree, running slants, flats, curls, and deep routes, getting open almost every time. Wilkes does his part as well, thrilled to be back on the field after a dreadfully long bye week.

 

Maverick stands fearless in the pocket, Bishop serving as an extra blocker to hold off the pass rushing duo of Carlos Dunlap and Michael Johnson. Penner holds the middle of the line, in a vicious dogfight with Geno Atkins. Atkins gets around Penner occasionally, but never in time for a sack.

 

The Knights march down the field, capping their fourth touchdown drive with a shovel pass to Banks, taking a 28-20 lead.

 

The Bengals fire back, with Andy Dalton throwing to A.J. Green and Tyler Eifert almost exclusively. Harden has Flash doubling Green with no exceptions; if he switches in motion, then Flash and Schwinn switch too. Randall hones in on Eifert, desperate to reverse his fortune covering tight ends this year. He doesn’t get beat over the top, but Eifert still racks up plenty of short catches.

 

The pass game gets Cincinnati in field goal range, where they transition to a run heavy attack. Giovani Bernard and Jeremy Hill run through open holes, and Hill caps the drive with a powerful six-yard touchdown run.

 

The score is 28-27, Knights, in an exciting duel between elite offensive coordinators.

 

Harden doesn’t see it that way. He gazes toward Tom Everett, his former subordinate, trying to visually communicate his disgust. Everett was a Knight four years, and Harden knows him well. This is the first time the two have squared off since Everett’s departure, and Harden should be crushing him.

 

McKenzie and the offense pick up where they left off. After a nine-yard Jameson run, Maverick bombs it for Watson on play-action, hitting him in stride for a seventy-yard touchdown.

 

The Bengals respond. Green gets open on a few corner routes despite double coverage, and Dalton throws passes just out of Flash’s reach. Hill finishes off the drive again, and the crowd goes quiet.

 

The fourth quarter begins. After an uneventful drive, the Knights punt, and Cincinnati goes back to work. Bernard catches a pass out of the backfield as a perfectly timed screen develops in front of him. Harden curses the world as Bernard surges through his defense for fifty-nine yards and a touchdown.

 

Only up five, the Bengals go for two. Dalton fires a quick pass over the middle that Grantzinger bats down, and it’s 40-35, Bengals, 5:14 to go.

 

The Knights take over, soon facing third and three. Maverick fakes a handoff to Jameson, turns, and gets crushed by Atkins. The sack takes some of the air out of the stadium, as fans and players feel doubt for the first time. On the sideline, Maverick takes a drink of water before seeking Penner.

 

“What’s the matter, old man? Can’t hang in the fourth quarter?”

 

“That fucker is good, but I’ll stick ‘em next time.”

 

“I fucking hope so. Hang in there.”

 

The Bengals take over with good field position and try to run out the clock. The Knights stuff the box, bringing up third and six. Dalton drops back in shotgun and throws over the middle for Green, and Flash gets in front of it. The crowd springs to its feet, a surge of energy returning to the stadium as the Knights set up on the edge of the red zone.

 

Penner holds his ground as Maverick fires away between Wilkes and Watson. They reach first and goal at the two-minute warning.

 

Maverick rolls out, looking for Watson—covered. Bishop—covered. He throws it away.

 

Second and goal. Wilkes is isolated wide right, so Maverick hurries the snap. He sees a safety run to double Wilkes but lobs it up anyway. Wilkes tries not to run out of bounds as he jumps, catches the pass, and plants his feet. As he hits the grass, he’s not sure if he gets both feet down, but the official raises both arms, and Farmers Field goes nuts.

 

Amidst the chaotic celebration, the Knights line up to go for two. Maverick audibles to a run, seeing a spread formation, and hands off to Jameson, who runs into a wall and gets dragged down by edge defenders. The score remains 41-40, Knights.

 

Wilkes smiles on the sideline, less exuberant than usual, accepting high fives from anyone and everyone.

 

“Great catch, D-Jam,” Bishop says, extending his hand.

 

Wilkes looks up at him with a blank stare, slaps his hand, and looks down at the grass.

 

Harden readies his defense as Dalton takes the field with 1:50 on the clock. The Knights can’t be soft here; even a field goal loses the game.

 

Dalton works the sidelines, stopping the clock and gaining short chunks of yardage. The Bengals creep near midfield with 1:28 to play.

 

Grantzinger and Luck break through on a blitz, forcing Dalton left. He throws against his body over the middle, and Martin intercepts it, going down immediately. The crowd and sideline erupt.

 

Harden watches his team run out the clock, unsatisfied. The Knights are about to win courtesy of two horrendous throws by Dalton, not by any defensive supremacy.

 

The clock hits zero, and the Knights celebrate their biggest win of the year, knocking off an unbeaten team and advancing to 4-3, above .500 for the first time this season. Harden shakes hands with Coach Lewis and hobbles off the field, the only unhappy person wearing purple and black.

 

 

 

McKenzie walks through the main lobby and into a hallway of offices, surprised to see one already open. He’s even more surprised to identify it as the head coach’s office, where Harden is scribbling furiously on his whiteboard.

 

“Strange to see you here so early,” McKenzie says.

 

“I have shit to do,” Harden says, looking back and forth between the white board and a binder on his desk.

 

“You’re something else, Merle.”

 

“What?”

 

“For seven weeks, your defense has been underachieving, and you just take it in stride. Now, we beat an undefeated team, have our best game of the year, and you’re upset about it.”

 

“I know myself, and I know Tom Everett. He’s not a better coach than me.”

 

“He was yesterday.”

 

“You ever offer any support around here, Mac?”

 

McKenzie feels glad he’s getting Harden riled up. He notices the iced coffee on his desk.

 

“Mind if I sample that coffee? You know, check for added ingredients.”

 

Harden flings his marker at McKenzie. It misses his face by inches, before he can duck.

 

“Fuck off, Mac. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you people I’m not an alcoholic, but I haven’t—”

 

“See, there you go. You want to know something? You got off easy, Merle. I’ve known you a long time, and I’ve watched you slowly erode parts of your life, including people you care about. It all came to a head last year, you had the entire football team protesting for you, and here you are saying ‘I’m not an alcoholic.’ Then, fine. I’m not your sponsor.”

 

“Good. Glad we got that cleared up. Now, do you mind if I get back to coaching? Don’t forget we have a game Thursday.”

 

McKenzie shakes his head and trudges down the hall, determined to craft an offensive game plan that can match yesterday’s performance.

 

 

 

Phillips and Stein are summoned to Schneider’s office, arriving after a meeting with the coaching staff ends. Phillips can tell by Schneider’s face that something is up, unusual for the day after a win.

 

“What are we doing here, Wayne?” Phillips asks.

 

“Yesterday’s win was dramatic, but it didn’t subdue my concerns about our cornerback situation. And it shouldn’t have subdued anyone else’s either. The trade deadline is tomorrow at 1pm, and we are going to explore our options.”

 

Schneider holds up a report recently finished by Stein. Phillips worked with him on that report, but the last version he saw was five days ago. He checks his watch: can they pull off a deal in thirty hours? Can they do enough research in thirty hours to justify a deal?

 

“Allan, set up camp in Chance’s office. I want you both working the phones, going through every one of these names. We need to know if there’s interest. There shouldn’t be much, so we’ll have it narrowed down quickly.”

 

“Hold on,” Phillips says, “shouldn’t we involve the coaches on this? Get them looking at film, at least?”

 

“Unfortunately, there’s not enough time, with a game on Thursday. I already spoke with Coach Harden, and he supports any deal we make to bolster the secondary.”

 

This isn’t right, Phillips feels. Pieces are coming together much too quickly for a decision of this magnitude. Regardless, he soon finds himself in his office, calling almost every team around the league in search of cornerbacks for sale. Most rebuke him immediately, but when some ask for trade compensation, he’s not sure what to offer. He overhears Stein mention high draft picks on a few of his calls.

 

Eventually, they get a bite from Detroit: Darius Slay. Though still uncomfortable with the timeline, Phillips doesn’t hate the move, potentially.

 

“Get a summary from the scouts,” Phillips instructs Stein. “From what I know, he’s in the middle of a breakout season.”

 

“Why would Detroit part with him, then?”

 

“They’re 1-7. They fired their offensive coordinator a few hours ago. It’s a lost season, so if they can get some draft capital, maybe they’ll go for it. Get with the scouts and present it to Wayne.”

 

Stein nods, leaving Phillips alone, finally allowing him to make a meaningful phone call. It takes four tries before Harden picks up.

 

“What do you want?”

 

“Merle, things are moving fast so I’m gonna be quick. Did Wayne talk to you about a potential trade?

 

“It’s a big fuckin’ mistake.”

 

“And you told Wayne that?”

 

“In less colorful language.”

 

“We might have a taker in Detroit. Darius Slay. I gotta tell you, Merle, I kinda like the idea. Slay is an upgrade, we know Lucas is productive in the slot, and—”

 

“I already got my corners, Chance.”

 

“Yeah, but Merle—”

 

“What did I just say? I have a game to plan for. It’d be nice if you idiots upstairs didn’t fuck everything up for us.”

 

He hangs up. Phillips puts down the receiver and tries to think about both short-term and long-term consequences of a deal that sprung up so quickly. He struggles to focus on a potential trade, more concerned about the state of the team. The front office and coaching staff not on the same page is very dangerous, and something Phillips never thought he’d experience in this building.

 

He eventually returns to Schneider’s office, where Stein is presenting something. Before Phillips can speak, Schneider says, “I like it, Chance.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Darius Slay. Third-year player amidst a breakout season, under rookie contract through next year. He’s got the size and the physical tools Coach Harden likes. The torn meniscus is a slight long-term concern, but this is about bolstering the cornerback position in the short-term.”

 

“Plus I just talked to Detroit,” Stein says.

 

“You talked to Martin?” Phillips asks, referring to Lions GM Martin Mayhew.

 

“Ken Lucas plus a third-round pick. I tried Stone, but it seems they don’t value him very highly.”

 

Stein went behind Phillips’ back to manufacture a trade; this is something DeMartine would never have done.

 

Everyone stays in Schneider’s office as communication resumes with Detroit. Phillips is powerless as modest negotiations bump the draft pick from a third- to second-rounder. Detroit indicates they’d like to sleep on it and make it official before tomorrow’s deadline, and Schneider agrees.

 

At last, Phillips gets more solitude in his office, but he already knows where he stands. He actually thinks the trade is a fair deal, and one that would help the Knights win this season. But, after all these years, for some reason, he feels himself falling back on an old principle: never go against Merle Harden’s defensive decisions. Out of options, Phillips locks his door and calls Detroit on his cell phone.

 

“Martin, it’s Chance Phillips…Things busy over there?…Yeah, here too. Listen, this is gonna sound incredibly strange, and it’s gonna have to stay between us, but I need a huge favor.”

 

 

 

Harden goes through every play from the Cincinnati playbook, running different ideas through his head in search of legitimate options. He’s got a problem at cornerback, and he needs to solve it.

 

No matter what anyone says, zone coverage is not the answer. It never has been, in thirty-seven years of coaching and calling plays on defense. Stone and Lucas are getting beat, yes, but if the Knights start playing zone, holes will pop up all over the place. The eight-yard routes receivers are running against them now will turn into fifteen- and twenty-yard gains.

 

Harden has to do something to take the pressure off them. Flash helping over the top will continue, of course, but he needs a more permanent solution.

 

He doodles some more on the white board, trying something he’s always had in the back of his mind. He goes through the Cincinnati playbook this way, growing fonder of the idea by the minute.

 

Wanting a second opinion, he calls to the defensive subordinate he trusts most from a schematic standpoint.

 

“Chet, can you come in here a second?”

 

The words echo through the coaches’ hallway, where Ripka’s office is on the opposite end. Harden doesn’t hear any footsteps.

 

“CHET!” he yells, straining his vocal chords. “GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!”

 

Ripka springs out of his chair and bolts toward the head coach’s office.

 

“What’s up, coach?”

 

Harden clears his throat. “Remember what I said earlier about looking for a new wrinkle in the defense? I might have something.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Take a look.”

 

Harden slides his chair back and lets Ripka look at the plays drawn on the white board. They don’t seem any different. Various blitzes, some stunts—then he sees it.

 

“It’s…it’s bold, that’s for sure,” Ripka says.

 

“It’s nails on a goddamn chalkboard is what it is. But it might save our asses.”

 

“When do you want to start it?”

 

“This Thursday. In Pittsburgh.”

 

“You want to institute this on our shortest week of the year. The defense would have to learn it—and so would we—in two days.”

 

Harden nods. “It’s going to be a rough couple of days.”

 

 

 

Phillips, Stein, and Schneider reconvene in Schneider’s office Tuesday morning with the deadline just hours away. There isn’t any other buzz around the league, so they are theoretically on the verge of making the league’s only deadline trade.

 

“Let’s get on with it,” Schneider says, dialing Detroit’s number on speakerphone. “Chance, you take lead.”

 

They get in touch with Mayhew, and Phillips says, “Martin, it’s Chance. You’re also on with Wayne and Allan. We have a deal?”

 

“Actually, Chance, I’m sorry to do this to you, but it’s gotta be a first-rounder.”

 

Phillips contorts his face into a look of confusion. Schneider says, “Martin, we had a deal!”

 

“I’m sorry, but we really like Slay. He’s young, he’s improving, and we can’t part with him for less than a first.”

 

“Let us call you back in a few minutes,” Phillips says, pressing a button to end the call. “I’m not trading a first-round pick.”

 

Schneider looks defeated, while Stein looks defiant.

 

“We can counter,” Stein says. “We’re only one round away, maybe we can—”

 

“No,” Phillips says. “You heard Martin’s voice; he wants a first for Slay. How else are we supposed to match that value? Trade somebody like Flash? No, no fucking way.”

 

“Chance is right,” Schneider says. “We’ll call back later to see if there’s a change of heart, but otherwise, nothing we can do. No deal.”

 

The three soon separate, and operations at the MedComm Center resume normalcy as the players put in their only full day of practice for Thursday night’s game. The hours pass, Detroit doesn’t relent on their stance, and the trade deadline passes with no deal. The Knights will ride into the second half of the season with Julian Stone and Ken Lucas as their starting cornerbacks. After practice has ended, Phillips calls Harden’s office again.

 

“Merle, just wanted you to know: it’s a long story, but there’s no trade. Your corners are your corners.”

 

“Thanks, asshole.”

 

 

 

Ben Roethlisberger hits Martavis Bryant over the middle, across midfield for another first down.

 

Harden looks up at the scoreboard: Steelers 14, Knights 10, 6:29 to go in the third quarter. The Knights defense started the game dominantly but gave up a late touchdown before halftime. They gave up another to start the second half, and Harden fears they may be cracking. Debating the next play call, he sees Ripka walk up to him.

 

“Now?” Ripka asks.

 

“Now,” Harden says.

 

Roethlisberger lines up under center and studies the defense. As he turns his head to shout an audible to his running back, Randall shouts, “Steel!” The three linemen shift to the left, and Brock joins them, in the three-point stance. The three remaining linebackers shift right to balance the formation.

 

Astonished, Roethlisberger studies the front seven before him. The Knights’ 3-4 defense has shifted to a 4-3 in the blink of an eye. Roethlisberger calls timeout and heads for the sideline.

 

An audible buzz circulates Heinz Field as attentive fans discuss what just happened. The Knights have run a 3-4 defense since their first season in Los Angeles, and Merle Harden has run a 3-4 all his life.

 

When play resumes, the same thing happens. The Knights line up in a 3-4 formation, then shift fluidly to a 4-3: a Luck-Anthrax-Reid-Brock line, with Grantzinger-Randall-Martin linebackers.

 

Roethlisberger hands the ball off, and DeAngelo Williams runs into a wall, thanks to a well-executed but basic play. Harden is keeping it simple for now. As he told the defensive linemen, “Sam and Sean, you sack the quarterback. Clayton and Anthrax, you stop the run. It’s not that fucking difficult.”

 

The Knights defense recaptures momentum, showcasing their new hybrid scheme throughout the second half. They line up in both formations, sometimes switching, sometimes not. The misdirection keeps Pittsburgh out of the end zone and tilts field position in Los Angeles’ favor.

 

Defensive players smile and laugh on the sideline, having genuine fun with the hybrid. Meanwhile, the offense goes down the field, slowly but methodically, until Bishop finds a soft spot in the end zone and Maverick puts it between his numbers.

 

The Knights’ 17-14 lead carries into the fourth quarter, and both defenses settle in, making the three-point lead feel more secure.

 

Pittsburgh takes over from their own ten with 9:33 to go, and Roethlisberger lobs one over the middle for Antonio Brown, who hops over Lucas for an athletic catch that puts the Steelers at midfield. Harden decides not to send Flash on any more safety blitzes.

 

Two plays later, Brown goes deep and Flash follows, he and Lucas all over him. But Roethlisberger fires deep in the other direction, towards Markus Wheaton, who runs four yards ahead of Stone and catches the easy touchdown with Heinz Field roaring.

 

A few minutes later, the offense goes three and out, and a confident energy fills the stadium.

 

“Need the ball back, coach,” McKenzie says.

 

“You’ll get it, Mac.”

 

Roethlisberger hands off to Williams on consecutive plays, and the Knights stuff him from the 3-4. Harden has them line up in 4-3 for an all-out blitz on third and nine. He looks up at the clock. 4:03, 4:02, 4:01…

 

Roethlisberger fakes a handoff and drops back, multiple white jerseys converging. He heaves up a pass off his back foot. Flash tracks it, heading his direction, but midjudges it. The ball sails over his head and just beyond Lucas’ reach into the arms of Antonio Brown. Lucas dives but misses, tripping up Flash and letting Brown run free into the end zone.

 

Harden stands on the edge of the sideline, hands on his hips. Players can barely think with Steelers fans screaming all around them. This is a defensive meltdown reminiscent of the Knights’ early years, long before they were Super Bowl champions.

 

Before they were a playoff team.

 

 

 

Players filter in and out of the MedComm Center quietly Friday morning, only there to pick up pay slips and in no particular hurry. Days like today are always uneventful, but last night’s loss hangs over the entire complex, no one quite sure how to feel about a 4-4 record at the season’s halfway mark.

 

Eventually, a small group gathers in the players’ parking lot, talking of weekend plans. Among them are Stone and Lucas, not hiding their shame from last night. Teammates offer generic words of encouragement, and they leave.

 

“Those two are gonna cost us the season,” Grodd says.

 

“Coach is gonna cost us the season,” Brock says.

 

“Whoa,” Randall says. “Cool it with that shit, Brock.”

 

Brock: “Can’t blame two rookies for being underachievers, can you? Yo Flash, what do you think?”

 

Flash freezes just outside his driver’s seat, surprised to be included in the conversation.

 

“Not gonna win a Super Bowl this year. Not unless anything changes.”

 

Grantzinger: “As if you give a shit, Flash. You don’t have to pretend.”

 

Flash faces the group and shuts the car door behind him.

 

Randall: “Hey! Take it easy, motherfuckers. We got a long week to prepare for Detroit. That’s an easy win if we stay focused.”

 

Brock: “No win’s coming easy with this defense. Stop with the bullshit optimism, Briggs.”

 

Randall: “You are part of the defense you seem to be so eager to trash. I’m not buying into bullshit from one player, least of all you.”

 

Maverick: “It’s not one player.”

 

Everyone looks at Maverick in shock, not sure when he joined the crowd.

 

Maverick: “Look, I love Coach as much as anyone, but it’s not hard to see what’s happening on defense. Flash and Bobby can only do so much.”

 

Schwinn: “Amen, partner.”

 

Randall looks around, astounded at his teammate’s faces.

 

Randall: “So, we’re doing this? We’re really doing this? All of us?”

 

Grantzinger: “Not all of us.”

 

Grantzinger nods, and Randall looks around again. Not everyone looks as indignant as Brock, but he can tell a few agree with him. Some seem to side with him and Grantzinger, some look uncomfortable with the conversation, and some look unsure.

 

Everyone stands around, waiting for someone else to speak again, but no one does. So they drive away, one by one, without another word.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Sarge+ 3,436]

Wow, lots to see and think about in this one. Almost a bit too much for once, but I like chapters that keep you headed from one subplot to the next.

[Thanatos 2,847]

What exactly are we all doing here? Throwing other teammates under the bus?

[Cherry 1,302]

I want Bobby on my team for the inevitable brawl

[RazorStar 4,025]

Everybody being dumbasses. Malik was the glue that held these primadonnas together it seems.

[SteVo+ 3,702]

Game day bump!

[theMileHighGuy 656]

Javad using D-Jam for his revenge plot..

 

I'm not sure I understand what the unhappy players are planning to do. Strike? Tell Harden they're not going to play or something? Try to get him fired? I was kinda right in saying that Harden wont' be able to embrace being an offensive team.

 

The next chapter will be uncomfortable.

[SteVo+ 3,702]

What exactly are we all doing here? Throwing other teammates under the bus?

 

I'm not sure I understand what the unhappy players are planning to do. Strike? Tell Harden they're not going to play or something? Try to get him fired? I was kinda right in saying that Harden wont' be able to embrace being an offensive team.

 

The next chapter will be uncomfortable.

 

I don't think the implication is that something concrete is imminent, more so that the team now has some division in the locker room. (Makes sense considering next week's chapter is titled "The Line That Divides.") Disharmony among players is nothing new in sports, but it's never really happened under Coach Harden's tenure. Yet.

 

That being said, in hindsight, I think it would be better to change Randall's line from "We're really doing this?" to "We're really going down this road?" That might have alleviated some confusion.

 

I think this:

 

The next chapter will be uncomfortable.

 

will prove to be extremely correct.

 

--------------------

 

In other news, something else I want to point out. The title of this chapter may seem like something out of a soap opera, though lies are the biggest motif of the chapter (D-Jam knowing how to read, Phillips' "deal" with Detroit, arguably Watson's perfect speech and Harden not being an alcoholic). The title, however, is also an old literary reference I bet few of you caught.

 

A quick Google search should do it.

Edited September 13, 2016 by SteVo

[Thanatos 2,847]

I caught it immediately. Uneasy Lies is a pun on the phrase "Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown." It doubles, of course, because of the actual lies told in the chapter as well.

Edited September 15, 2016 by Thanatos

[Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014]

This is how far I got when I started catching up. Decided to reread the last few chapters to get refreshed before moving forward.

 

I loved Phillips turning from throwing Harden under the bus to doubling back after Stein went rogue. He has logic to what he does, but he's volatile and too concerned with respect.

 

And really, switching to the 4-3 was going to quell our problems at CB? That makes no fuckin' sense unless we're coupling that with zone from the LBs. Sean's character was right, you can't blame the rookies. Sure, they can grow into Harden's system, but for now they need help underneath as clearly Flash and Schwinn can't alleviate the problem from up top.