SteVo+ 3,702 Posted September 23, 2016 | | | | Knights of Andreas Part V Based on Characters Created by: badgers Bangy Barracuda Bay BigBen07 BradyFan81 BwareDware94 CampinWithGoatSampson Chernobyl426 CrimsonRaider DonovanMcnabb for H.O.F eightnine FartWaffles Favre4Ever GA_Eagle JetsFan4Life Maverick RazorStar Sarge seanbrock SteVo Thanatos Turry theMileHighGuy Vin Zack_of_Steel Chapter Sixty-Three – Beverly Park A large crowd of journalists assembles in the media room for a press conference scheduled thirteen hours ago. Such haste would normally draw small attendance, but when an NFL owner speaks, everyone shows up to listen. Schneider approaches the podium. NFL Network and local Los Angeles sports networks cut to a live feed of the Knights owner, who leans into the microphone not to talk about his team’s two-game winning streak, not about its 6-4 record, not about its playoff berth if the season ended today. “Good morning,” Schneider says. “For the millions of you who watched the Vikings/Knights game yesterday, you witnessed something that should never happen on a National Football League field. I’ll be frank; the playing conditions were atrocious. This was a result of excessive rain leading up to and during the game, compounded by a systematic failure in the stadium’s drainage system.” Schneider communicates his firm-but-likable personality with every word, a persona that has always resonated with fans, reminding them how great an owner he is, and how fortunate the Knights are to have him running things. “It was an unfortunate coincidence, and it was a one-time occurrence. Those who have watched Knights games regularly know this has never happened in our stadium’s five-year history. That being said, it was totally unacceptable. So let me, on behalf of the Los Angeles Knights, apologize to the Minnesota Vikings. More importantly, I want to assure all future opponents playing at Farmers Field, including and especially the eventual participants of Super Bowl 50, that it will never happen again. Now, I’d be happy to answer any questions.” After the conference ends, Schneider heads upstairs, where Phillips, Stein, Harden, and McKenzie wait for him. They get started immediately, with Schneider telling them about Bishop’s suggestion yesterday. Nobody noticed him and Bishop having an extended conversation in the locker room, so the discussion comes as a mild surprise, though the topic is far from profound. “I don’t see what’s wrong with the way we’ve done it,” Harden says. “I’m not sure requiring all the players and their families to come sets the right tone.” “Why is Bishop floating this?” Stein asks. “Why this idea all of a sudden?” “He didn’t give reasons,” Schneider says, “only said he felt it was a good idea.” “Where would we do it, if not here?” Phillips asks. “My house,” Schneider says. “I’ll do it nice, have food catered, hire a jazz band, the whole nine yards.” Nobody voices any objection. “Now, for a date. How about this Friday? The day after Thanksgiving would certainly make sense.” “No can do,” Harden says. “I’ll be here, but I know a few players have travel plans that weekend and won’t be back until Saturday.” “The week after, then,” Schneider says. “Gives me and the Mrs. more time to prepare. All the better.” “We’ve got Monday Night Football that week,” Phillips says, “so we could even do Saturday. Wouldn’t conflict with practice.” “I’m in favor of that,” Harden says. “So be it!” Schneider declares. “Saturday the 5th. Mandatory attendance, everyone is allowed a plus-one, and let’s say…seven o’clock?” Everyone nods in agreement. “One more thing, then, and this is perhaps the most important. Merle?” Harden’s eyes widen, surprised to be called out. “We can do this dry, if you want,” Schneider says. “Dry?” Harden says. “As in, no booze? No way. I won’t allow it. I’m comfortable in the presence of alcohol. You can ask Chance.” “It’s true,” Phillips says. “Melissa and I went over for dinner, Melinda served us wine, didn’t bother Merle one bit.” “Well,” Schneider says, “if it’s part of what’s kept you sober for a year, then I’ll trust it.” McKenzie fidgets in his seat and looks at Harden, who doesn’t blink. Fans tuning in to Sunday Night Football hoping for a fierce divisional rivalry between the Knights and Chiefs are quickly disappointed. The Knights start the game with back-to-back touchdown drives, sending Farmers Field into hysteria and seizing the game’s momentum permanently. The Chiefs never recover. Though Kansas City scatters a few field goals throughout the game, the Knights add a second half touchdown and field goal for a 24-9 lead, and the game devolves from uninteresting to boring. To Knights fans, this represents a best-case scenario: a confident win in a divisional game, extending their winning streak to three and maintaining a playoff spot. To the players, things aren’t so cozy. The Chiefs are in the middle of a lost season in the wake of Jamaal Charles’ torn ACL, so beating them is no achievement. Losing, in fact, would have been devastating. Despite this, the Knights play far from dominant. The defense allows five drives to reach field goal range, but Cairo Santos only makes three of them. A better kicker would put more points on the board, and a better offense would reach the end zone. The offense leaves points on the field too. Between drops, two interceptions, and one fumble, they never match the execution of the first quarter, bringing back forgetful memories of the Detroit game. As the final minutes tick away, Bishop wanders the sideline, sensing the same uneasiness among his teammates. He’s glad he talked to Schneider last week and looking forward to Saturday night. Players celebrate and change in the locker room. After the media has come and gone, Maverick spots Flash on his way out and flags him down. “Hey, Flash! Nice job on that deep shot for Kelce. I think you did a somersault. That’ll make the top ten.” “I should have caught it.” “Not sure Jerry Rice could have caught that one. Anyway, since Coach gave us the day off Tuesday, I’m throwing a party at my place tomorrow. You interested? Haven’t seen you much this year.” “Can’t. I got places to be.” “Yeah, I know where you’re going.” Flash watches Maverick’s excited face turn into resentment. Fine. Fuck him. Who cares if he knows? Who cares if anyone knows? Flash only has five weeks left anyway. With the calendar ready to flip to December, offseason preparations gradually take up more time for the front office. The Knights are poised to have a less eventful offseason than last year, though not without difficult decisions. To Phillips, the biggest challenge is free safety. Rose’s departure has left the secondary in shambles, making Flash extremely valuable to the Knights. But if he’s serious about refusing any contract offers—and all indications from his agent say he is—then the Knights can only apply the franchise tag. Would it be wise to tag an already disgruntled player? Is this a good time for the non-exclusive franchise tag to try for some draft compensation? The topic comes up in a meeting in Phillips’ office where Stein and Keegan are present, along with the defensive coaching staff. Phillips is glad to be running a few meetings without Schneider, who is in Dallas for owners meetings. “What’s your read on him, coach?” Phillips asks. “Can’t say, honestly,” Harden says. “He’s shut me out this year. Shut everyone out, really.” “Not everyone,” Stein says, lifting a piece of paper from the pile in front of him. “You guys heard these stories?” Phillips’ suspicions are confirmed as Stein passes the paper around and he sees a multiple articles from the L.A. Mobile with various sentences and paragraphs highlighted. Flash has been regularly driving to Malik Rose’s new residence in San Diego. Phillips doesn’t need to look up who wrote the articles, and he certainly doesn’t need more pressure from Schneider. He’s tried reaching out to Javad and gotten nothing, so maybe it’s time to get aggressive. “You’re okay with this?” Phillips asks Harden. “Of course. What a man does in his free time is no concern of mine. Or anyone else’s in this room, quite honestly. As long as he’s not giving them our playbook, I don’t give a damn.” “Plus,” Stein says, “if allowing it helps rebuild trust between he and the team, that’s a good thing.” “Allan, Michal?” Phillips asks. “How’s Rose doing this year, anyway?” “Picking up where he left off,” Stein says. “He shut down Jeremy Maclin last week,” Keegan says. “Zero catches allowed. Shut down Alshon Jeffrey two weeks ago. Two catches allowed for nine yards, no touchdowns.” Harden gives Phillips as angry a look as he can. The two don’t need to spar on this issue again, but Harden is eminently disappointed when he wonders what the Knights would be doing with Rose this season. He hopes Phillips is too. “Alright,” Phillips says. “Let’s just say Flash leaves and we don’t tag him. Any good free agents at safety this year?” “Eric Weddle,” Stein says. Phillips and Harden lock eyes, both raising their eyebrows. “There’s an idea,” Harden says. Later that day, Phillips leads a mundane press conference with a scant crowd of reporters. Without much news to speak of, they don’t seem to have many good questions, but Schneider insisted on some sort of press communication while he was gone. Phillips answers questions easily, stumbling only once when asked about Penner’s shoulder injury. He keeps an eye on Javad while the others ask questions, feeling some levity when one reporter makes a joke about this being a useless conference. Javad raises his hand, speaking before Phillips calls on him. “Is there any particular reason you guys just decided to mix up the program?” Phillips ponders his reply, suddenly restraining a smile, realizing he’s got him. “It coincides with the schedule we sent out Monday,” he says. “What’s the matter? Didn’t know how to read it?” The entire room erupts with laughter. Reporters sitting in the front rows spin around for a look at Javad, who turns red. “No more questions,” Phillips says, no longer hiding his smile. He steps off the stage, out of the sight of the cameras, and stares Javad straight in the eye. The Santa Monica Mountains extend west from Glendale to the Pacific Ocean, bookended by urban sprawls. Toward the eastern end of the range, north of Beverly Hills and south of Studio City, a tall gate borders Beverly Park, a residential community home to some of the most lavish estates in California. Many players and coaches carpool, per Schneider’s request, clear the security gate, and look in awe as they drive through a neighborhood of mansions, each more impressive than the next. They park in a circular driveway and look up at the sprawling, L-shaped mansion belonging to Wayne Schneider. For the players, this is a rare humbling moment. Those lucky enough to have big contracts could save up millions for a similar home, but this man has billions. Everyone is led through the house, past the dining room where they’ll eat dinner in a few hours, and into the back yard. Freshly trimmed grass arcs around the pool, encompassing a total area bigger than the house itself, it seems. Butlers circulate with trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne-filled glasses, lines form around two open bars, and the Los Angeles Knights’ annual holiday party is underway. Everyone arrives in a suit, accompanied by wives or girlfriends in stylish but conservative dresses. Harden, of course, is the only one not wearing a tie. Players are disappointed to see Flash and Wilkes playing along, each donning a boring black suit. At an event like this, both are typically good for gaudy suits with bright colors. One of the most talkative players early in the evening is Brock, at the party without a date but frantically moving from group to group. He eventually encounters a crowd of linemen. Brock: “Yo, who’s up for an after-party?” Grodd: “Sean, we just got here.” Brock: “I mean for later, obviously.” Anthrax: “Hey, where’s Scarlett?” Brock: “Don’t know. We broke up.” Anthrax: “Shit, I’m sorry.” Grodd: “Guess you don’t have the most attractive girlfriend on the team anymore.” Anthrax: “Chase! C’mon, man.” Grodd: “Oh, sorry.” Penner: “This ain’t the place for a hook-up, Sean.” Brock: “Which is why I’m trying to put something together! I gotta find Mav.” Anthrax: “Shit, is that Logan?” Everyone looks toward the doorway that leads inside, seeing Bishop locking arms with a stunningly gorgeous woman. Penner: “That’s his wife, dumbasses. Her name’s Ashley.” Grodd: “You know what, Sean? I take it back. You wouldn’t have had the most attractive sidepiece anyway.” Brock takes off to find Maverick. A few seconds later, Anthrax excuses himself for a refill, leaving Grodd and Penner alone. “How’s the shoulder?” Grodd asks. “Sore as hell,” Penner says, surprising Grodd with such an honest answer. “Hurt my ankle last week too.” “You’re not breaking down on me, are you?” Grodd says jokingly. “I might be.” “Hey, what the fuck? What’s with you?” “Don’t be dramatic. Just listen to me. All the nicks and bruises are…Well, lately I’ve been thinking this is my final ride.” “Brian, don’t be stupid. You might not be in your prime anymore, but you’re still awesome. Better than most centers in this league. I always thought you and I had a couple of seasons left together.” Grodd loves playing next to Penner, as any left guard would, but he’s uncomfortable with the idea of Penner leaving. He’s not ready to be lead dog in the trenches. Not yet, anyway. “I never planned on sticking around past my prime,” Penner says. “What, stretch it out for a few more years, getting beat by guys I used to dominate? That ain’t my style.” Grodd doesn’t respond, studying his champagne glass. Penner’s glad for the conversation to be over, but at least he got it out of the way. He knows there are still five games left on the schedule, but five games feels like a lot right now. Watson comes by and shakes their hands, awkwardly jittery, and moves on to the next group. He feels himself sweating beneath his suit. Even worse, he feels his mouth fumbling over his words every time he speaks. These are his teammates, not the media. Why is he so nervous? After everyone has arrived and had a drink (or several), word spreads that dinner will be starting soon. When Bishop hears this, he notices Wilkes nearby, standing alone. He excuses himself from the group he’s with and takes a deep swig of champagne. “D-Jam,” Bishop says. Wilkes shows his usual look of indignation, then relaxes, finally realizing he can’t ignore this guy forever. “What’s up, Logan?” “I want to apologize. You were right. If I never told the guys upstairs, nobody else would ever know. I want you to know I was never out to get you, and I hate how this whole thing has turned out.” Wilkes has a mind to tell Bishop that he’s right, that he’s an asshole, and that he’ll never be forgiven. But the vodka is giving him a nice buzz and making him feel more diplomatic. “It’s all good. I mean, really, it’s not your fault. You ain’t the one who never taught me how. Know what I’m saying?” “Actually, I’d like to help you learn, if I can. I know it’s—” “They already got me with someone.” “Who?” “The team. Got a dude comin’ to my place once a week. A speech therapist, or some shit. Anyway, it’s not that I can’t read—I can—just not…” “Above a certain level?” “Yeah. Whatever that means. I see words, some of ‘em I know, some of ‘em…” He shrugs and sips his drink. Wilkes, instead of his usual frustration or anger, seems genuinely sad, a surprising emotion that dampens Bishop’s mood too. “Well, I’m glad you’re getting some help. I just want to make sure we’re good.” “What, you and me?” Wilkes pauses. Bishop looks as merciful as he can. Come on, D-Jam, give me a break here. “Yeah, we good.” He raises his glass, and they clink. “Now let’s go see that pretty wife of yours.” “Hey, careful there.” The party moves inside for dinner, then back outside, where drinks flow faster and the mood lightens. Maverick attracts a crowd, as always, trying not to get too drunk. This isn’t one of his mansion parties, after all. He finishes a swig of champagne and catches sight of a woman, about his age, in a stunning purple dress. He stops talking mid-sentence and watches her walk across the yard. Residual light from the pool glistens on her dress. “Hot damn,” he says, “she’s beautiful.” The first one who notices is Grantzinger. Instinctively, he says, “Oh no,” and gets in front of Maverick, signaling other teammates for support. “Get out of my way, Zack,” Maverick says, bobbling his head around for a good look. Reinforcements arrive. Jameson, Luck, Randall, and Martin try to interpret Grantzinger’s non-verbal cues, eventually connecting the young woman to Maverick’s entranced stare. “What’s with you guys?” Maverick says. “Do you see what I see?” “Dude,” Randall says, “do you know who that is?” “I don’t care.” Maverick takes another sip of champagne and starts walking. “Mav, no! Mav!” “Don’t do it, man! Don’t go!” He keeps walking as the teammates gather to watch nervously. Focusing on his posture, Maverick walks up to her. She notices him and seems to recognize him. “I don’t think we’ve met,” Maverick says. “I’m Jonathan. You can call me Jon, if you want. Or Mav. The players call me Mav.” They shake hands. “I’m Trisha. Most people call me Trish, including my dad.” Maverick looks back at the teammates, suddenly understanding. They’re still looking, bug-eyed. He’s seen Trisha before; how did he not recognize her? Maybe he’s just never seen her with make-up in a dress like that. She certainly looks amazing in that dress… “Still interested?” Trisha asks. “Oh, definitely,” Maverick says, as confidently as he can. “Well, that makes one of us.” “What do you mean?” “You throw too many interceptions, Mav. Or Jon, whatever. And for an experienced quarterback, your footwork is pretty erratic.” Oh my God. She knows football. This is a dream. This isn’t real. He’s had too much champagne. Maverick feels someone grab his shoulder. The observing teammates instantly turn around, unable to watch. “Yep, it’s over,” Martin says. “Lasted longer than I thought,” Grantzinger says. “Okay, guys,” Randall says, “let’s all say a prayer for our departed quarterback.” Maverick sees Trish smile before Coach Harden’s face is inches from his own. “Oh,” he says. “What’s up, coach?” “Don’t even think about thinking about it,” Harden says. “I will tear out your organs with my bare hands. Understood?” “Yes, sir.” When Maverick regains his senses, Trish is gone, and the ordeal has ended without incident. Another hour passes, and people start leaving, each thanking Schneider personally for a wonderful time. The party winding down, Schneider and his wife stand next to Phillips and Melissa. “I think this was a roaring success, myself,” Schneider says. “I’d say it could become a tradition,” Phillips says. “Oh, I never asked you about the owners meetings.” “You haven’t heard on the news? They weren’t good. Between St. Louis and San Diego, I’d say we’ll have roommates soon. Let’s change the subject. Oh, how fitting. Logan!” Nearby, Bishop latches arms with his wife and passes by. “Glad you made the suggestion?” “Definitely, sir,” Bishop says, half lying. This was a good time, no doubt, but he won’t know if it helped for a while. “Actually, if you’ll excuse me, Ashley isn’t feeling too well, so we’re gonna head home.” He takes two steps before Wilkes shouts, from across the yard, “Hey, Logan! You said you’d play pool with us!” Great. A chance to repair the bridge with Wilkes, and he has to miss it. “Hey,” Brock says, suddenly appearing, “I’m on my out anyway. If it’s kosher, I can drop Ashley off at your place.” “You sure?” Logan asks. “Totally.” “Hun, you okay with that?” “Oh yes,” Ashley says. “Stay, shoot pool. I’m just gonna fall asleep as soon as I get home anyway.” “Okay. See you later, then. Thanks, Sean. I’ll find a way to repay you.” “No worries,” Brock says. Ashley walks next to him as Logan departs, wrapping her arm around his shoulder. That was fast. “I’m not feeling well,” she says. “This is so nice of you.” She’s flirting with him! This is better than Brock could have ever hoped for. First he gets word of a wild party in Hollywood, and now this. He would never mess around with a teammate’s woman (especially a wife), but what’s wrong with a little harmless back and forth? He puts his arm around Ashley’s waist as they stroll through the house towards the driveway. “As long as you can tell me where you drive, we’re good.” “I can do that.” Brock looks around for anyone staring, then finds the right moment to slide his hand down her back, below her waist, hoping no one’s looking. Brock wakes up in his car, behind the steering wheel. Where is he? What the hell? He fumbles around with the GPS on his phone, eventually determining he’s somewhere west of Bishop’s house. Guess he never made it to that party. Wait a second—Bishop. Did anything happen? No, it couldn’t have. Brock’s suit is still buttoned, pants on, zipper up, belt on, everything. He must have just pulled to the side of the road and fallen asleep. Suddenly very thirsty, he goes back to the GPS and finds the nearest fast food place. On his way out of a Clippers press conference, Javad works the phones all the way to his apartment. He’s still heated about Phillips calling him out like that in the press conference. Even worse, it caused a spike in traffic to the Mobile’s web site, meaning his editor-in-chief loved it. He doesn’t want to get attention that way. If that’s the game Phillips wants to play, Javad needs to punch back. He could be on the verge of some ammunition. After working the Rose lead for months, getting in touch with sources all over the country, he knows multiple teams had trade offers on the table for Rose. He doesn’t have any evidence that the Knights were listening to trades, or even looking to make one, but it doesn’t matter. He’s close to something, he knows it. Another Sunday of football passes, and the playoff picture crystalizes in both conferences. For the Knights, week 13 has set up so that a win would put them in the 5th seed by themselves, a game ahead of the Steelers and Jets. They would still be two games behind Denver with a trip to Mile High Stadium in week 16. The hours pass Monday as the football world counts down to a Super Bowl XLIX rematch, Packers vs. Knights at Farmers Field. Brock creeps into the locker room and spots Bishop, already changing. Time to find out how much trouble he’s in. He walks in, trying to be casual. “L-Bish! What up?” “Hey Sean, what’s up?” That wasn’t so bad. He’s in the clear! Smiling, Brock sets up shop at his locker, black jersey waiting for him, and gets ready to change. Tonight’s gonna be a big game. Bishop tightens his belt and ties his shoes, ready for battle, and grabs his helmet by the facemask. He walks across the locker room. “Sean.” “Yeah?” Brock says, spinning around. Bishop lowers his helmet and launches it upward in one swift, violent motion. It strikes Brock square in the nose, squirting blood in the air as Brock hits the floor. Bishop gets on top of him and punches him in the face. Brock gets his arms up, but Bishop keeps swinging. He lands three haymakers before a bombardment of players pulls him backwards. Coaches hear the commotion and rush in to see Bishop restrained by four teammates and Brock lying down, his face unrecognizable in a pool of blood. Minutes later, all but two players have run out onto the field. Brock and Bishop sit in the locker room, Coach Harden standing before them, marveled at the sight. Brock has a splint across his nose, cotton up both nostrils, and is already wearing his mouthguard. Bishop can only fit gloves on his left hand because his right is wrapped in multiple layers of bandages. “Either one of you assholes have anything to say?” Harden asks. Brock and Bishop barely move, looking straight ahead or down at the floor, not at each other, and not at their head coach. “In that case, I’m just gonna consider this something you two settled on your own terms—or just Logan’s, by the look of it—and is finished. Any more from either of you and you’ll regret it. Deal?” Both players bounce their heads slowly in what could be considered nods. Harden shakes his head and walks toward the tunnel. “This fucking team sometimes, I swear to God.” Green Bay strikes first with an eighteen-yard touchdown pass from Aaron Rodgers to Randall Cobb. The Knights respond with a twenty-yard touchdown run by Marcus Jameson. Rodgers leads another scoring drive, this one stymied in field goal range, and Maverick does the same. The game is tied, 10-10, near the end of the first quarter, and fans understand what to expect tonight: an exciting, back-and-forth battle worthy of primetime. The Knights operate their hybrid at full capacity, sometimes switching between 4-3 and 3-4 then switching back to their original formation before the snap. Stone and Lucas have their best game of the season, but Rodgers and his receivers are simply too good, executing multiple back-shoulder fades to perfection and scoring another touchdown. The Knights respond in the half’s closing minutes, but Clay Matthews torments Maverick, keeping him on the run and preventing any of the deep passes McKenzie wants to call. On the edge of field goal range, Maverick hurries a throw over the middle that is intercepted, and both teams head for the tunnels with the Packers leading, 17-10. Though Farmers Field buzzes with activity at the start of the third quarter, it seems that the first half intensity is gone—until McCabe jogs onto the field for a fifty-five-yard field goal attempt and nails it. The Packers eventually add a field goal, again up by seven, and the Knights respond. Leaning on play-action, McKenzie gets in rhythm and Maverick finds open receivers. Though Green Bay’s pass rush still disrupts timing on a few plays, Maverick is able to roll out and find other options, sometimes scrambling and picking up first downs himself. On the fourth quarter’s first play, Maverick hits Watson in stride for a sixteen-yard touchdown, and the game is tied. “Dig in, assholes!” Harden yells on the sideline. “No more points! It’s time to win this thing!” The defense is as confident as it’s been all year, with their shaky pass defense somehow holding it together against one of the league’s most effective passing attacks. The hybrid plays a big role, with pressure in Rodgers’ face almost every play. Brock breaks through for his second sack of the night and brings out the punt teams, though his nose starts bleeding again, and he gets some attention from the trainers. Maverick goes to work, looking for the Knights’ first lead of the night. Bishop, whose hand is so padded with bandages he can’t catch with it, is reduced to a pass blocking role, leaving Wilkes and Watson as the only viable passing targets. The Packers take note of this, shutting things down and forcing a punt. “Get ready, ladies,” McKenzie says. “Next drive is the winner. Get ready.” “We got this, coach,” Maverick says. “Hey, O-line! You guys keep me standing and this is all us.” Nearby linemen nod their head. Maverick turns to Bishop and says, “I guess that means you too.” Bishop smiles. Relentless Knights pass rush forces multiple incompletions, and Rodgers looks flustered. He drops back on third and ten with Grantzinger and Martin closing, tries to escape, and gets wrangled down for another sack. The stadium cheers, the Knights about to take over with under four minutes to go. McKenzie calls a few rollouts and simple sideline routes, taking the easy yards and stopping the clock. Maverick lines up under center with Matthews to his right. Bishop stares him down, their facemasks a foot apart. Then the Packers shift, and Matthews goes to Maverick’s blind side. The play clock is too low to adjust, so Maverick takes the snap and drops back. Matthews gets around Adams easily while Bishop swings across the line and levels Matthews with a crushing block. Maverick steps up, plants his feet, and bombs it down the field. Wilkes runs ahead of his man with a safety closing. The pass sails in, and Wilkes leaps, catching it and coming down with a Packer wrapping him up. Wilkes stops and throws the corner off him. The safety runs in for a tackle, and Wilkes extends a stiff-arm, hitting him square in the facemask and pushing him down. Wilkes runs into the end zone and dunks the ball on the cross bar as the stadium explodes. Maverick and Wilkes find each other on the sideline while McCabe hits the extra point and embrace. “We’re back, baby!” Maverick says. “Damn right we are!” Wilkes says. Fans settle down, knowing Rodgers still has 3:18 to force overtime. Harden isn’t changing a thing strategically, but he has his defense line up in 4-3—just to fuck with Rodgers. The Packers complete some short passes over the middle, and the two-minute warning approaches. Randall shows blitz, then backs up to cover Richard Rodgers. He gets turned around, sees the tight end extend his hands for a catch, and swings his arm blindly, somehow tipping the ball into the air. He loses sight of it, but Schwinn dives and gets his hands under it, cradling the ball and staying down for an interception. The Knights sideline goes crazy and stays that way as Jameson runs out most of the clock, Green Bay burning its timeouts with the Knights in field goal range. McCabe adds an insurance kick, and the Knights win, 30-20. A round of respectful handshakes unfolds on the field with Farmers Field in celebration mode. Fans of both teams would be eager for a rematch in February, and players would agree. During the final minutes of ESPN’s coverage of the game, commentators Mike Tirico and Jon Gruden wrap up their broadcast by discussing the Knights’ place in the AFC. Tirico: “So now, Jon, you see the standings there, Los Angeles is still two games behind Denver in the West, but they lead the wild card race at 8-4.” Gruden: “I tell you what, Mike, the Los Angeles Knights have won four games in a row, they’ve got this new hybrid defense that everybody’s gonna have to try and figure out, they’re getting healthy, and by the way, they are the defending Super Bowl champions. The rest of the AFC better watch out.” McKenzie loses sight of Harden in the post-game chaos, eventually catching up to him just before the tunnel. “Listen,” McKenzie says, “I don’t know whether you ever lost these players or not, but you sure got ‘em now.” “Damn right I do.” 7 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
RazorStar 4,025 Posted September 23, 2016 Bishop is definitely hammering in nails now. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
theMileHighGuy 656 Posted September 23, 2016 “As long as you can tell me where you drive, we’re good.” Was this Brock drunk speech or a typo? Kind of Logan's fault for sending his stunningly gorgeous wife home with the drunk douchey womanizer. High drama this ep tho MavJam highlight reel stuff Solid Harden quotes 2 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Vin+ 3,121 Posted September 23, 2016 (edited) Still interested? Trisha asks. Oh, definitely, Maverick says, as confidently as he can. Well, that makes one of us. Hey, Brock says, suddenly appearing, Im on my out anyway. If its kosher, I can drop Ashley off at your place. You sure? Logan asks. Totally. Hun, you okay with that? Oh yes, Ashley says. Stay, shoot pool. Im just gonna fall asleep as soon as I get home anyway. This was legit my reaction while reading this chapter. Good (bad?) stuff. Edited September 23, 2016 by Vin 4 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
theMileHighGuy 656 Posted September 23, 2016 This was legit my reaction while reading this chapter. Good (bad?) stuff. fantastic, haven't seen that reaction gif before. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Sarge+ 3,436 Posted September 23, 2016 People who got rekt in this episode: - Javad, for being a dickmuffin. - Mav, for thinking the liquid courage could help him avoid the wrath of Harden. - Bishop, for trusting his wife with Sean. - Sean, for being sean. - Clay Matthews, for being the unfortunate bastard lining up near Bishop. Really awesome chapter. Bishop is savage as fuck. He was so calm about beating the shit out of sean. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Bangy 19 Posted September 24, 2016 Yea the Mav/Trish conversation and Bishop beating Sean parts of this were awesome. I'm waiting for Javid to get his revenge on Chance too. Building this up nicely man. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Cherry 1,302 Posted September 24, 2016 Trish been spending time in the film room. That is Brigg's kind of girl. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Bangy 19 Posted September 26, 2016 Trish been spending time in the film room. That is Brigg's kind of girl. Bish please if she's playing with Mav, she'd eat that bitch boy Briggs alive...... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Cherry 1,302 Posted September 26, 2016 She'll be impressed by Briggs lunch pail. Dude is a grinder. Blue collar. Class act. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
SteVo+ 3,702 Posted September 28, 2016 Hump Day Bump Day “As long as you can tell me where you drive, we’re good.” Was this Brock drunk speech or a typo? I think that's a typo, but re-reading it, it works well as a Brock drunk speech. This was legit my reaction while reading this chapter. Good (bad?) stuff. This chapter was definitely something a little different, but I'm finding that as a writer, when I branch out from my comfort zone, good things happen. Hopefully you guys agree, and didn't find this chapter weird. Anyway, thanks for the praise, as always, folks. 48 hours until we play Rose and the Chargers. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014 Posted March 25, 2017 Bishop is kinda my favorite character. The party was well done, but wtf Sean. I think my earlier prediction is going to come to fruition in Javad finding out about the Mav trade while digging at Rose. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites