SteVo+ 3,702 Posted October 6, 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-Five – Treatment Phillips feels nervous but confident as he paces up the MedComm Center stairs. After a series of text messages with Schneider during his morning drive, he has his plan ready. He drops off a few papers at his desk and enters Schneider’s office, closing the door behind him. “Good morning, Wayne,” Phillips says, a likely futile attempt at levity. Schneider slaps two pieces of paper onto the desk. Javad’s article, Phillips assumes. “The article itself isn’t very blistering,” Schneider says. Futile indeed. “The alleged sources don’t provide rationale from either team, and the NFC team isn’t even identified.” “So has it gotten any traction in the mainstream?” “Not yet. None of the main outlets are on it, though I’m sure people are asking around.” “We have to play this one safe, I think.” “Before I go any further, Chance…” Phillips readies himself; here it comes. “…Is it true?” “Are you really asking?” “Yes. And I’m not just asking if what the article claims is true. I’m asking if you snuck around this building, over a period of weeks or months, kept behind my back, and facilitated a secret trade that would have altered the foundation of this franchise. In fact, let’s put cards on the table, Chance. You accused me of going behind your back when I fired Daniel. I’m asking if you were about to do the same to me.” “Not exactly. I couldn’t have orchestrated a trade myself, you know that. I would have run it past you before going through with it.” “Then it is true.” “Yes. It is.” Schneider’s eyes widen. He either didn’t believe it or hoped it wasn’t true. “I have no intention of denying it. I came in this morning knowing I would tell you. I worked the deal behind the scenes because I knew if word got out, we’d be in trouble. Imagine Maverick hearing about this while extension talks were ongoing. I kept it secret because if I decided not to pull the trigger, no one would ever hear about it. Unfortunately—” “That’s no longer an option. What was your logic?” “It doesn’t matter now. I’m not getting into it.” Schneider looks skeptical, as Phillips knew he would. “Take it or leave it, Wayne. We won’t make any progress by diving into this.” “Did you tell Javad while the trade was brewing?” “No. I would have given him the scoop had it gone down, but I didn’t feed him anything in the meantime. He found this on his own.” “Then, please, how do you suggest we reach ‘progress’?” “As I said, we play it safe. We’ve been denying Javad enough this year. How many times can we call him a liar?” “Agreed. Plus, we can’t deny it outright and have someone like Schefter or Rapoport piggyback it.” “I know how we can spin it. Not even much of a spin, really.” “One thing, Chance. Tell me who the NFC team was.” This confuses Phillips. What does Schneider gain by knowing who it was? How would Schneider figure out Phillips is lying, if he is? If he tells the truth, is there a way Schneider can make this situation worse? “Philadelphia. It was Maverick for four picks over two years. Two firsts, a second, and a fourth.” Schneider nods. For a moment, Phillip sees the slightest hint of understanding, as if Schneider might have accepted that draft haul in exchange for what would have been an unprecedented trade. “Javad said he had sources from both organizations,” Schneider says. “I can’t speak for Philadelphia, obviously. I wasn’t his source here, so, unless he’s lying…” “We have a leak.” “Indeed. But we can’t fire someone now. It’ll be an admission of guilt.” “Fine, we wait, but we still have a leak.” “Yes, we do. And I know who it is.” Meetings between coaches and executives proceed throughout Monday as planned. Everyone hears about the Maverick story, but no one brings it up. Phillips and Schneider don’t mention it, and nobody asks them. The Knights have bigger concerns. Los Angeles, at 8-5-1, is on the outside looking in with two weeks to go. The Jets and Steelers, both 9-5, hold both wild card spots, and the Chargers lurk at 8-6. A half-game out with two games to play is manageable, but the Knights’ opponent this week is Denver, currently second in the AFC at 11-3. A loss, coupled with a Jets and Steelers win, and the Knights are out of the playoffs entirely before week 17. It has been an undoubtedly trying year for a team that won the Super Bowl ten months ago. But despite their struggles, only recently has the reality of failure become visible. Everyone in the building must now grapple with the realization that the Knights may not repeat as Super Bowl champions. The team simply may not be good enough. Of course, all this appears lost on Coach Harden. He seems to focus all his energy on the Broncos, saying the team needs a win because of the embarrassing 35-6 loss back in week 5, not because of any playoff concerns. As the day goes on, Javad’s story still fails to grab headlines across the league. Most consider it speculation, and some even criticize Javad for fabricating the story. Many don’t care, labeling the story as insignificant, regardless of its veracity, because of Maverick’s long-term extension. Numerous reporters reach out to Phillips for comment, but he redirects them to tomorrow, when the team will have a casual media session in the locker room after practice. Shortly before Phillips leaves for the day, Stein stops by his office, shutting the door behind him. “What’s up, Allan?” Phillips asks. Stein steps close to Phillips’ desk, an odd look on his face. “Listen, I know it’s true.” “What’s true?” “The Maverick story.” “How the hell do you know?” “I got it from Keegan. Figured if you involved anyone in your thought process at the time, it’d be him.” So that’s what this is about. Stein sees Keegan as a threat and he wants to cozy up to Phillips. Actually, he may be bluffing about getting the scoop from Keegan, which would be more impressive. “What’s your point, Allan?” Phillips asks. “I’m here so we can build trust.” “Trust?” “That’s right. You can count on me not to tell Wayne.” “I already told him.” Stein looks devastated. Is that genuine surprise, or he is upset he no longer has any leverage? Phillips can’t tell. “That was a mistake,” Stein says. Phillips grabs his coat and heads for the door. “No, it wasn’t,” he says. “And if you really believe it was, you’ve got more to learn than I thought.” He strolls out the door, leaving it open, and checks in with Schneider one last time. “Anything new?” Phillips asks. “Nope, still the same,” Schneider says. “Nothing on major networks, though I’m sure they’ll report our comments tomorrow. With any luck, that’ll be the end of it.” Maybe Phillips is wrong. Maybe Javad didn’t get a source from Los Angeles. He’d love to reach out and determine that himself, but the odds of that are slim after last week. Phillips and Javad may never have a stable working relationship again. “Alright then,” Phillips says. “See you tomorrow.” “One more thing,” Schneider says, forcing Phillips to step back in the doorway. “Understand this, Chance. You don’t have fallout from fans. You have fallout from me. And we all have fallout from the locker room if we can’t convince them this is bullshit.” Players return to the MedComm Center for practice, and an attitude similar to yesterday’s populates the building and practice field. The Javad report isn’t a major concern for them, and the Denver game is a much bigger priority. Still, questions linger. After practice, some players stick around for an optional media session. Many are curious to see if Javad will show; he doesn’t. Phillips, however, makes his way downstairs. Appearing as relaxed as possible, he attracts a crowd who all inquire about the Javad story. “Listen,” Phillips says, “I don’t know who is sourcing that report, but I think this is a case of semantics. Trade offers fly across the league all the time. Teams are always calling other teams, wondering what the price of a guy is. Now, let me be clear about this. After we applied the franchise tag to Maverick, did a bunch of teams call us, interested in a quarterback? Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t they? But, did we have a solid offer on the table that suddenly got pulled back because of what happened with Malik Rose? Absolutely not. Our plan was always to re-sign Maverick long term, and we did.” That seems to satisfy the reporters. One of them asks who the NFC team is cited in the report, to which Phillips says, “I have no idea. As I said, there was no single offer that stood out from the rest.” After all the reporters have left, Phillips is ready to head back upstairs when Maverick cuts him off. He figured this might happen. “Is it true?” Maverick asks. “What?” “The report. The story. Is it true?” Phillips shifts his posture, debating the best way to respond. “If you believe in me, if you trust me, then you can be honest. I’m under contract either way.” “You’re right, I can trust you,” Phillips says. “Which is why I’m going to tell you something I think you already know. This is a business. When a team calls interested in a player, you don’t tell them no. You listen to their offer, then you tell them no. We got plenty of offers for you, Mav. Does that really surprise you?” “So is what the report says true? Were you ready to trade me before the Rose shit went down?” “No,” Phillips says as firmly as he can. “Okay then.” Maverick walks away, satisfied, and Phillips goes back to work on offseason preparations. The rest of the week, the Javad story gathers no buzz in Los Angeles. The Knights have what Harden believes to be a solid practice week, interrupted by Christmas on Friday, before their flight to Denver on Saturday. By kickoff, the early slate of week 16 games has gone final, two of which bring good fortune to the Knights. The Chargers loss eliminates them from the playoffs, and the Steelers loss means the Knights can reclaim the #6 seed with a win today. Both teams take the field in freezing weather, the temperature topping out at 21 degrees Fahrenheit. Knights players on the sideline wear thick coats and sit near the heaters. The Broncos get the ball first, and Peyton Manning, as he has for six weeks, stays on the bench in favor of Brock Osweiler. Harden is actually more afraid of Osweiler than an old, banged up Manning, which is why he’s taking no chances today. The Knights put their hybrid on full display, the front seven switching formations almost every play. This keeps the Broncos offensive line in flux and prevents Osweiler from reaching Demaryius Thomas, whom Flash is doubling on every play. This strategy works beautifully, shutting the Broncos down and taking the crowd out of the game while the Knights put points on the board. Denver’s defense, interestingly, hones in on Jameson, stacking the box. McKenzie realizes they’re confident in their corners to shut down the Knights receivers. It takes a few drives, but Wilkes gets going on short routes, happy to get any receptions at all after last week’s debacle. He leads the offense on a drive ending in a field goal for the game’s first points. The next drive, Watson racks up a few catches, and with their top two receivers going, the Knights soon reach the end zone. Maverick, thrilled to be taking snaps from Penner again, keeps everyone fired up on the sideline between possessions—as much as possible, anyway, in this weather. Riding the confidence of a 10-0 lead, the Knights defense continues its dominance into the second quarter. Denver doesn’t know how to solve the hybrid, and Osweiler looks shaky. Towards the end of the quarter, Luck swats a pass at the line of scrimmage, and Randall catches it for the interception, setting the Knights up on the Broncos’ thirty-yard line. Four plays later, Wilkes catches a beautiful back-shoulder fade in the end zone, and the Knights take a 17-0 lead into halftime. Denver fans, to their credit, are pumped up to start the third quarter, but hope of a comeback soon fades. Osweiler falls victim to multiple sacks, and the Knights look like last year’s defense again. On offense, McKenzie goes into closer mode, leaning on Jameson and Banks, balancing the offense and ticking the game clock down. By the start of the fourth quarter, the score is 27-3, Knights, and everyone in the stadium shifts their attention to week 17. For Broncos fans, this is far from despair. They have already clinched the AFC West and are still in position for a first-round bye. For the Knights, hope is restored after a disappointing last two weeks. They’re now back in the playoffs. One more win in Kansas City next week and they can punch their ticket. And if they play like they did today, they’re capable of beating anybody. Despite high spirits on the Knights sideline, Harden remains solemn. He’s glad to have such a solid victory, of course, but his mind is elsewhere. At least tomorrow he’ll know. He doesn’t even chew anyone out after his defense yields a garbage time touchdown. Phillips is in Schneider’s office when Keegan arrives with his finished report. Schneider has been distracted all day, hardly offering any insight during offseason meetings. Phillips hopes this will provide him some relief. “Thank you, Michal,” Schneider says, skimming the pages. “Bullet points?” “There are several ways to structure an argument,” Keegan says, “but the most persuasive is the overall instability of our franchise currently. Not inundated with season ticket requests, poor merchandise sales from local vendors, etc. I included plenty of simulations with a second team in Los Angeles, using various geographic locations, and none of them are good.” “Excellent. Thank you very much for all this. That will be all.” Keegan nods, and Phillips watches him leave. “Think this will work?” he asks Schneider. “I don’t know,” Schneider says grimly, leaning back in his chair, showing a rare moment of vulnerability. “There’s a lot of support for the Chargers to come here. The Spanos’ are well liked, and everyone wants to help them out. But keeping them in San Diego is still on the table. If they can get a good stadium deal in place, everyone will go for it. Kroenke, on the other hand, wants the hell out of St. Louis. It’s him I’m concerned about.” “But both owners have proposed a move. How do you know Kroenke is more serious about it?” “NFL owners are rich, powerful men, but they’re not poker players. If you speak English, you can figure out what they want.” “Listen, Wayne, I know this situation is out of my element, but if there’s a second team in L.A., that affects me. It affects all of us.” “Of course it does. What are you asking?” “I just want to know what the odds are.” Schneider looks out the windows towards downtown, deep in thought. “I don’t know,” he says. “I really don’t. Formal proposals are due in a week, and then it comes down to the owners meetings.” Phillips doesn’t want Schneider to tell him what could go down at those meetings. Phillips has always avoided the business side of football as best he could, though this is a circumstance where it affects the football side whether he likes it or not. Powerless, all he can do is trust Schneider’s judgment and wait for the outcome. On the tenth floor of Good Samaritan Hospital, a group of doctors and patients walk the hallway, nobody in any hurry. One man in particular walks among the crowd, wearing a hat and sunglasses. He looks suspicious enough to draw glances from security guards as he approaches the receptionist at a department in the middle of the hallway. “Hi,” the man says, “I have a follow-up with Dr. Kern.” “Your name, sir?” “Merle Harden.” “Okay, Mr. Harden, please have a seat over there.” He does so, keeping his head down, praying nobody recognizes him. Mercifully, no one does, and he only waits about ten minutes before being summoned to the doctor’s office. Kern gives Harden a warm handshake. Harden isn’t sure the friendliness is promising or ominous. They sit on opposite sides of the doctor’s desk, a large folder sitting on top of it. “So,” Kern says, “how are you feeling, coach?” “I’m not your coach. Call me Merle.” “But you call me ‘doc.’” “Because I’m your patient. You’re not one of my players.” He sighs anxiously. “Let’s get on with it.” “Yes, well, I have your biopsy results here.” Kern extracts paper from the folder. “Get to it, doc. Is it…?” “I’m afraid so, yes.” Harden sighs. He expected this. Somehow, he knew. He presses his hand against his eyebrows and slides it down his face toward the recently discovered lumps on his throat. “How bad?” Harden asks. “We didn’t catch it as early as I’d like. We need to start treatment right away.” “What kind?” “Unfortunately, surgery is not an option. That means we should start chemotherapy as soon as possible.” “No. No chemo until the season’s over.” “And how long will that be?” “A month, if I can help it.” “I have to say, Merle, it would be best if—” “Move on, doc. No chemo until the end of the season. What else?” “That just leaves radiation therapy, which, you should know, isn’t nearly as effective as—” “Fine. Radiation it is.” Kern appears uninterested in protesting further, which relaxes Harden a little. “In the meantime,” Kern says, “you need to take it easy on your voice. Try to speak as little as possible, and refrain from yelling or raising your voice at all.” “Impossible to do in my position, doc.” “You need to try.” Kern goes on about things Harden should be doing, things he should be avoiding, the radiation schedule, and more. Harden’s focus, however, is at home, where he has to decide how best to break the news. Merle pulls into the driveway, slamming his brakes at the sight of an extra car. He pulls forward, and his headlights illuminate an Audi. It looks familiar, like one of the cars he sees every day in the players’ lot at MedComm. “Don’t fucking tell me…” Merle staggers to the front door, ignores frantic licks from Bowser, and stands in the foyer, gazing toward the kitchen, where Melinda, Trisha, and Jonathan fucking Maverick stand around. The quarterback stays in the kitchen as Melinda and Trisha walk up to Merle one at a time. “Don’t make a scene,” Melinda says. “He’s nicer and more respectful than a lot of Trisha’s past boyfriends.” “We should talk later, dad,” Trisha says. “In the meantime, try not to kill him.” Only after Trisha walks away does Merle realize she’s holding a drink. So she’s drinking again, thanks to Mav. This is an absolute nightmare, but Merle can’t feel angry about it. Not tonight. Not with what’s weighing on him. Without a word, he plops down on the living room couch, Bowser laying at his feet, and turns on Monday Night Football. He gets to watch a few plays before Mav approaches. Merle doesn’t divert his attention from the game. “Look, coach, I know we gotta talk about this at some—” “Shut up, Mav. Leave me alone.” Bowser growls, but Mav doesn’t move. Finally, Harden says, “You’re not moving in, are you? Enough women live in this house already.” After the final executive meeting of the week, with the team’s flight to Kansas City twenty-four hours away, Phillips paces toward Keegan’s office. He’s glad Schneider and Stein have already left for the day. Through the doorway, he sees Keegan typing away at his computer, like usual. “Michal,” Phillips says. “You know, I just finished another free agency run-through, and it looks like the running back market will—” “Never mind that.” “What do you mean?” “How did Javad find out about the Maverick trade?” Keegan’s fingers freeze above the keyboard. “You’re the only other person who knew.” “Stein. Stein got it out of me a few weeks back. I wanted to tell you, but—” “He wouldn’t have leaked it. That doesn’t help him at all.” “Chance, listen, I didn’t—” “Did you talk to Javad?” “I didn’t leak the story, I never would have—” “Did you speak with him at any point?” Keegan pauses, struggling with his words, a rare occurrence. Phillips braces himself. “He called me on the phone, once, but—” “You’re fired, Michal. I’m sorry.” “No! Chance! I promise, I—” “Clear out your stuff, tonight or tomorrow. Monday morning, don’t be here.” Phillips walks down the hallway towards the elevator, unable to take the stairs, preparing himself for a long, slow drive home. The Knights take their final resting spot in the visitors’ locker room, hearing crowd noise from Arrowhead Stadium as they face their head coach. “Normally I wouldn’t get into this,” Harden says, “but the guys upstairs have informed me that our playoff situation is very simple. Win, and we’re in. Lose, and it’s over.” The players figured this would be the case all week. In some ways, it’s a relief that the final game isn’t part of a complicated set of tiebreakers, and the players like controlling their own destiny. “You all know what I’m gonna say. Playoffs start right now. Let’s go.” Alex Smith lobs a deep pass toward the sideline. Jeremy Maclin separates from Lucas and hauls it in, going down for a twenty-two-yard gain, putting the Chiefs in field goal range. Despite their team’s 7-8 record, Chiefs fans are content to play spoiler today, and the home team already has a 3-0 lead. Randall sets the defense and calls the play, everyone lining up in a 3-4. Smith pauses for an audible, so Randall switches to 4-3, the play remaining the same. With Grantzinger set to blitz, Randall stares down Travis Kelce. Kelce runs straight as Randall gets close to him, then cuts toward the sideline. Randall tries to undercut the route, but Kelce runs for the pylon instead. Half a step behind, Randall sprints as Kelce catches a pass, dives for his feet, and whiffs. Arrowhead explodes as Kelce crosses the goal line. “Fifty yards in two goddamn plays,” Harden mumbles to himself. Defenders return to the bench after the extra point, with Randall claiming responsibility for the touchdown. “Aw, shut it, Briggs,” Harden says. “We all sucked.” He spots Ripka coaching up Flash and feels an urge to interject. “And you, Flash! What the hell was that on the Maclin catch? The idea of double coverage isn’t to take your sweet fucking time getting over there! Got it?” Flash doesn’t say anything. Harden shoos Ripka away and kneels down in front of Flash, lowering his voice so no one else can hear. “This may be your last season with this team, but you will give it everything you have until the finish line.” “Or what?” Harden’s entire body flares with anger. “Or what? OR WHAT?” Other players and coaches notice them now, and he doesn’t care. “Or I’ll bench your ass. Better yet, I’ll put in a call to every team in the league, let them know what I think about your work ethic and your dedication to the team. How’s that gonna affect your new fucking contract?” Flash looks like he might jump off the bench and tackle his head coach right here, but Harden walks away. A few teammates look at Flash nervously, then turn their heads when he looks back at them. Second and goal, five yards from the end zone. Maverick takes the snap and rolls right, waiting for Watson to break from the slot. He does, open by four yards. Maverick fires, throwing behind him slightly. Watson spins to catch it, planting his feet before running out of bounds, and the ball bounces off his hands as he falls to the ground. “Catch the fucking ball, Joe!” Maverick screams before everyone huddles up again. McKenzie calls a jump ball for Wilkes. Maverick hurries the snap, looks to Wilkes, and Eric Berry shades his way. Not there. Stepping right to avoid pressure, Maverick sees Bishop, surrounded by red jerseys. He throws as hard as he can. Bishop ducks to shield defenders away, lets the pass hit him in the chest, and falls backward into the end zone. During the sideline celebration, Watson says to Maverick, “My bad. I got it next time.” “I hope so,” Maverick says. “Hey, it was a shit throw anyway. We both got it next time.” “The fuck, Mav?” Wilkes says. “You had me on the fade.” “Sit down, D-Jam. Berry was shading towards you. Wasn’t about to force it.” “Pussy.” Chiefs 10, Knights 7, 2:49 to go in the second quarter. Near midfield, the Knights find momentum on the ground, with Jameson chewing up tough yards between the tackles. He bounces off defenders one run at a time, trying not to think about his soon-to-expire contract. Second and four. Penner puts his hand on the ball and stares down Dontari Poe. Red jerseys shift as Maverick calls for the ball. Penner slides right to track Poe, doing a stunt, and sees a linebacker heading up the middle. He slides left, but it’s too late. Maverick flushes to avoid the free rusher, firing for Wilkes toward the sideline. Wilkes turns his head, but Sean Smith is already in front of it. He takes off toward the end zone, juking Maverick easily. Penner keeps a low profile on the bench as coaches show him pictures from that play. Yes, he had to adjust quickly to a speedy linebacker, but that’s a move he’s made plenty of times in his career. “Your shoulder okay?” Grodd asks, sitting next to him. “Ain’t the shoulder,” Penner says, sipping some water. When the Knights get the ball back, McKenzie refrains from going full throttle, fearful of another turnover. The Chiefs soon go into halftime leading 17-7, and Harden ponders how best to rip into his players. Chiefs 24, Knights 14, end of the third quarter. The Kansas City sky darkens behind the stadium’s lights with fifteen minutes of football remaining. About to start another drive, Maverick and McKenzie deliberate on the sideline. “We need something here, Mav,” McKenzie says. “We’re running out of time.” “I know. No-huddle?” “I was thinking about it.” “We’re ready for it, coach.” “Then let’s roll.” Maverick trots to the huddle and preps everyone for the no-huddle, reminding them of some important calls. As long as they keep the crowd noise down, they should be fine. From shotgun with three receivers, Jameson innocently takes a draw up the middle for four yards. Defenders slowly reset for second and six, and the Knights sprint to the line. They catch the defense out of position and Maverick slings a bullet to Watson for fifteen yards. They hurry to the line again. Maverick hits Bishop over the middle for nine yards. In a no-huddle, hurry-up offense, the Knights line up in the same shotgun formation with Maverick shouting play calls between plays. Wilkes for six yards. Bishop for seven. Larkhill for six. Watson for ten. Now on the Chiefs’ thirteen, Maverick sees Wilkes in single coverage. He takes the snap and throws it up in the end zone. Wilkes gets around Sean Smith and outjumps him for the ball, spiking it on the grass. Arrowhead is quieter than it has been all day. The Knights offense lumbers to the bench after going seventy yards in two minutes. McKenzie, especially, is all smiles. He’s been waiting to mix in the no-huddle since arriving in Los Angeles, but Maverick’s injury last year delayed things a bit. The crowd cheers, interrupting the Knights’ celebration, as McCabe’s extra point shanks wide right. Instead of a three-point game, the Knights trail, 24-20. One first down after another, the Chiefs run out the fourth quarter clock. Spencer Ware dashes through the front seven, putting the Chiefs on the edge of Cairo Santos’ range with the clock at 4:33 and counting. Fed up with the hybrid, Harden simplifies things, calling 3-4 plays exclusively. If the Knights can’t stop the run from their base defense, they deserve to lose. First and ten. Ware gets the ball up the middle. Randall converges on him, and Schwinn runs in to bring him down. No gain. Harden calls timeout, stopping the clock at 3:50. Second and ten. Ware runs off-tackle left, past Brock. Martin hits him but can’t bring him to the ground. A wave of players from both teams fights for leverage, with offensive linemen pulling the pile forward two yards. Harden calls timeout again. 3:43. Third and eight. Not sure what to expect, Harden calls an outside blitz. Smith lines up in shotgun and takes the snap. Brock bull rushes and gets planted. On the right side, both Luck and Grantzinger break through. Smith rushes a throw over the middle. Randall, covering Kelce, sees it coming his way and dives, feeling the ball strike his left hand. It sails into the air, and Martin gets under it, catching it as a red jersey brings him down. The Knights offense jumps from the bench, riding the surge of adrenaline onto the field. Instead of a punt pinning them deep or a field goal making it a seven-point deficit, they’re seventy-one yards from a game-winning touchdown with 3:37 to go and one timeout. “This is it,” Maverick says in the huddle. “Playoff drive right here, boys. Let’s get it done.” Both sidelines watch intensely as the game’s final drive commences. Withholding from the no-huddle for now, Maverick keeps it safe, hitting Wilkes and Larkhill on quick sideline routes for a first down with 2:57 on the clock. Bishop catches one over the middle, the clock running, but the Knights take their time. Maverick lines up in shotgun and watches the front seven spread out. He gets an idea, shouting an audible to the offensive line. He takes the snap and hands off to Jameson, who surges through the middle into open grass. He lowers his shoulders and pummels a helpless defender, falling down a few yards later on top of the Chiefs logo at midfield. 2:11, 2:10, 2:09… Maverick takes a deep shot for Wilkes that misses, and the clock stops for the two-minute warning. He finds Larkhill over the middle for five yards. Third and five. Maverick shouts McKenzie’s call, hurrying everyone to the line. Wilkes and Watson line up to Maverick’s right, attracting the attention of the defense. 1:25, 1:24… With Bishop blocking, Maverick sits behind a clean pocket, staring down Wilkes, who stops on his route. Maverick pump fakes, and the safety bites, leaving Watson a step ahead of his corner. Got him. Maverick bombs it. Watson gets under it, nearing the end zone. He extends his fingers and the ball hits them. He crosses the goal line as the ball hits his jersey and pops loose. He dives, sliding through the end zone as the ball bounces on the grass. Watson keeps his head buried in the dirt as the stadium roars. He eventually gets up, head down, and walks to the sideline as the Knights get in formation for fourth and five. There’s still 1:16 to go, but they need a first down. Maverick lines up in shotgun and drops back. Pressure comes up the middle. He rolls left, pressure there too. He runs full speed to avoid it and looks upfield, defenders surrounding him. The only target he sees is Bishop—covered, but he has no choice. He throws and takes a hit. Bishop and a linebacker get their hands on it. Bishop plants his feet, trying to wrangle the ball away. A red jersey runs in and hits both of them, jarring the ball free. It hits the grass, officials signal incomplete, and Arrowhead Stadium explodes. Still on the ground, Maverick looks up and sees Penner, who helps him to his feet, saying nothing. No words would be right anyway. The Chiefs take a few kneeldowns while the Knights sit in shock on their sideline, trying to come to terms with the reality that their season is ending so suddenly. In a suite atop the stadium, Phillips, Schneider, and Stein are silent too. Phillips keeps his eyes on the field, but he can sense rage in the seat next to him. “From Super Bowl champions to out of the playoffs,” Schneider says. “Definitely a disappointment,” Phillips says, aware of how generic he sounds. “Harden.” Phillips stares down Schneider. They’re not about to go down this road. Not tonight, anyway. “What about him?” “This might have been his worst season. His defensive strategy got exposed, and his leadership got exposed.” “Wayne, this is ridiculous. We’re both upset about—” “Tell me either of those two things is wrong.” Phillips believes at least one of them is, but he doesn’t see any sense in arguing. “You know, he’s right, Chance,” Stein says. “Shut your fucking mouth, Allan,” Phillips says. “Wayne? Rant all you want. We’re going to look at it in the coming months.” “You’re damn right we are. We’re going to look at everything. Absolutely everything. Every practice, every meeting, every draft pick, every roster spot. And if we find something that needs changing, it’s going to be changed.” “Fine,” Phillips says, rising from his chair, eyes on the hallway that leads to the elevator. “His act wore thin in Carolina,” Schneider says from behind him. “It’ll wear thin here too.” Phillips thinks nothing of that comment for now, heading for the locker room, expecting a gloomy atmosphere. It’s worse than he fears. Hardly anybody speaks, and the sense of dread in the air is both unbearable and inescapable. Players often leave points on the field, but today, they left their season on the field. Most players think of returning home, of offseason rest, but some have other plans. Brock faces the reality of no incoming playoff bonuses—and no paychecks until next September. There’s no denying it now; he’ll have to sell a few things to get by this offseason. But how much? Jameson takes his time removing his pads, sad to take off his jersey. He knows he should be excited about a big contract, but he really doesn’t want to leave the Knights. Flash calmly changes into street clothes, ready to leave this locker room and get back to Los Angeles, where he can clean out his locker and await free agency. This definitely isn’t how he wanted this season to end, but if it’s how his Knights career concludes, so be it. After Grodd gets out of his pads, he leans over to Penner’s locker, unable to delay the question. “You still retiring?” Penner doesn’t look up. He knew Grodd or someone who ask, and he knows his answer. “No,” he says. “Not after this.” Grodd nods and goes back to changing. This is welcome news, and it would feel a hell of a lot better to hear it under different circumstances. When Harden finally arrives in the locker room, he can’t think of anything to say. There’s too much running through his head, personally and professionally, to be summed up in a quick speech here. So, he reverts to one of his oldest coaching beliefs: if you’re not sure what to say, say nothing. So ends a lost season for the Knights. The NFL will now begin its postseason march toward Super Bowl 50 without them. The Westin Houston, Memorial City has various rooms and halls designed for corporate meetings throughout its 18-floor structure. This particular morning, however, the Azalea Ballroom on the fourth floor is the prime attraction. One by one, representatives of NFL franchises (owners, in most cases) stroll into the room, each with a conservative, expensive suit and a warm smile for the cameras positioned just outside the doorway. The date is January 11. The Divisional Round of the playoffs finished yesterday, and only four teams remain in contention for Super Bowl 50, but on-the-field play is not the headline of today and tomorrow’s discussions. Wayne Schneider presses a folder full of research against his chest and waves to the cameras, a hollow, politician’s wave, and the last time he’ll smile today. He finds the ballroom half-full, a few of his targets already here, Commissioner Goodell included. Seven days ago, Rams owner Stan Kroenke and Chargers president Dean Spanos formally filed for relocation to Los Angeles, each proposing their stadiums: the Rams in Inglewood, the Chargers in Carson. Both teams would relocate immediately, playing in L.A. Coliseum until construction finishes on their new stadium. A two-team share of Los Angeles was always on the league’s mind. But Schneider got the jump on all of them in 2010, striking a deal before anybody else had time to jump onboard. That was his first triumph against this crowd; it won’t be his last. At age 56, Schneider is one of the youngest voices in this room, but he’s among the most powerful. He first flexed his ability in 2010, during the inaugural season at Farmers Field, by nabbing Super Bowl 50. In the NFL, new stadiums in good-weather cities get Super Bowls. Schneider easily could have gotten the Super Bowl that year, or 2011, or 2012. But he didn’t. He waited, knowing he could play his hand just right and land the most coveted Super Bowl of the decade. And he got it. Now, he has to do it again. He takes his assigned seat among the chairs that face the stage, looking around at his fellow owners, hoping his strategy will work. With few exceptions, the other thirty-one owners believe they are preparing for an official vote tomorrow on whether the Rams or Chargers will join the Knights in Los Angeles. Today, they’re about to be hit with a wave of evidence against a second team at all. All assigned seats are filled by 9am, on schedule. Goodell steps to the front of the room, welcomes everyone, and proceedings begin. 7 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Vin+ 3,121 Posted October 6, 2016 KoA: Chapter 6 - Everyone Dies 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Sarge+ 3,436 Posted October 7, 2016 This is one of the all-time great chapters of KoA, even though the Knights lost. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
BigBen07 285 Posted October 7, 2016 (edited) And BOOM goes the dynamite. Brilliant chapter Stevo. Edited October 7, 2016 by BigBen07 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
SteVo+ 3,702 Posted October 11, 2016 KoA: Chapter 6 - Everyone Dies Not sure I can pull that off...tempting, though. This is one of the all-time great chapters of KoA, even though the Knights lost. And BOOM goes the dynamite. Brilliant chapter Stevo. Thanks, guys! I honestly expected more of a controversial reaction to this chapter, because of its anticlimactic end to the season. There is quite a bit that goes down, so I guess that helps. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
seanbrock 1,684 Posted October 24, 2016 | Third and eight. Not sure what to expect, Harden calls an outside blitz. Smith lines up in shotgun and takes the snap. Brock bull rushes and gets planted. You seem to enjoy writing about my character getting owned. What's up with that bruh? lol Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
SteVo+ 3,702 Posted October 25, 2016 Not my fault Brock has issues. The story tells itself. Also, a 6300-word chapter and that's your only comment? 2 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014 Posted March 25, 2017 I knew Phillips would do something stupid in the spur of the moment, just didn't see Keegan being the guy. And for some reason I felt like Harden had cancer this whole time, wtf. Glad Penner isn't retiring. We do no-huddle in the last game of the season, wtf? Share this post Link to post Share on other sites