Knights of Andreas 6.05: Red Roses, Blue Sky

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Knights of Andreas

Part VI

Chapter Seventy – Red Roses, Blue Sky

 

 

 

Rose backtracks as the receiver runs toward him. The receiver cuts right, and Rose undercuts the route, getting in front. The receiver changes direction, running for the end zone, and Rose runs with him.

 

Pause. Rewind.

 

Wilkes lets the tape wind again. Rose maintains perfect position throughout the entire route; there’s never an opportunity for the quarterback to throw the ball. The whole game is filled with this. Frustrated but determined, Wilkes switches out the tape for another game, not ready to leave even though the rest of the team went home hours ago.

 

This is as much about his opponent as it is about him. He has his season stat line memorized: 45 catches, 646 yards, 9 touchdowns. He has scored a touchdown in all six games this season, a streak he wants to continue. But Malik Rose stands in the way.

 

This season, Rose has been dominant. There’s no other word for it. He has yet to allow a reception in man coverage.

 

Zero catches. Zero yards.

 

The tape may not show a weakness, but Wilkes sees one anyway: his opponents. Rose has shut down the likes of Jeremy Maclin, Allen Robinson, T.Y. Hilton, and Brandin Cooks. Those are talented receivers, but not elite ones. Rose hasn’t shut any of those down.

 

He hasn’t shut down Da’Jamiroquai Jefferspin-Wilkes.

 

Wilkes goes back to the Indy tape. There was one play where Hilton got separation on a swift inside move, but Andrew Luck got sacked before he could throw.

 

“Look who learned how to watch film.”

 

Wilkes spins around and sees his head coach in the doorway.

 

“Uh, hi, coach.”

 

“Briggs does this shit every week,” Harden says. “I gave up trying to tell him otherwise years ago.”

 

“You don’t think this is gonna help, coach?”

 

“I think everything you need is out there on that field, either now or in memory. You don’t remember?”

 

“Remember what?”

 

Harden steps closer. “Your first year here. Malik’s too. You guys weren’t big time yet, but you were each number one for us. So in scrimmages, you lined up against each other.”

 

Wilkes remembers. “So?”

 

“He couldn’t cover you.”

 

“What? Yeah he could!”

 

“I’ve coached defense a long time. Malik Rose plays cornerback as good as anyone I’ve ever seen in this game. But he’s not invincible. No corner is. He can’t cover you for sixty minutes.”

 

Harden walks away, leaving Wilkes to spend the next few hours clicking the remote, pausing and playing the film, though his mind focuses on year-old memories, trying to relive them as best he can.

 

 

 

Phillips’ Thursday passes through the usual routines while he waits for a chance to talk to Schneider, back from two days of owners meetings in Houston. The TV in his office is on, coverage focused on the grim news.

 

“…vote for relocation has been set for January. League owners will meet prior to that, in December, but the vote will happen in January. Votes for both the Chargers and Rams will take place, with Los Angeles being the primary target. Interestingly, governor of Nevada has stated…”

 

So everything’s still going according to plan. Everybody is fixated on Los Angeles, no idea Schneider is laying the groundwork for London. Phillips would admire the plan’s brilliance if he weren’t directly positioned to suffer from it.

 

He mutes the TV. It’s just past five, and he wants to catch Schneider before he leaves for the day. He gets up, leaving his crutches behind, and puts almost all his weight on his casted leg as he hobbles down the hall. He knocks on Schneider’s door and opens it, seeing Schneider on the phone with Stein seated across from him. What is Stein doing meeting with Schneider privately? Before Phillips can say anything, Schneider hangs up the phone and stands up, reaching for his coat.

 

“On my way out, I’m afraid.”

 

“Sorry, Wayne,” Phillips says, “thought we’d get a chance to catch up.”

 

“Let’s do tomorrow. Oh! But Chance, I’ve got the greatest idea.”

 

“It really is brilliant,” Stein says.

 

“Remember all those ideas we tossed around for a team hall of fame? I’ve finally figured it out.”

 

“I’m listening,” Phillips says.

 

“The Hollywood Walk of Fame, with all the stars? We’ll have our own! Every player or coach we enshrine gets his own star. It’s brilliant! And it’ll only take minor construction to the concourse by the north end zone. That’s the most likely place for it, anyway.”

 

For all of Schneider’s traits, this is one Phillips sometimes finds endearing: when he latches onto an idea, he doesn’t let go.

 

He rambles on about the Walk of Fame idea until, thankfully, Stein leaves the office first, with Schneider a few steps behind. Phillips pounces, standing in Schneider’s path and lowering his voice.

 

“Wayne, should I ask about the meetings? About London?”

 

“I wouldn’t,” Schneider says, brushing past Phillips down the hallway. Phillips stands in the owner’s office for a moment, a deep pattern of thought interrupted by a jolt of pain when he puts too much pressure on his right leg.

 

 

 

Saturday night, Los Angeles sports fans cling to their TVs with the Dodgers in a must-win NLCS game 6 against the Cubs. But Clayton Kershaw yields some early runs, and the Dodgers can’t get on base.

 

Inning by inning, hour by hour, the Cubs’ lead grows without the Dodgers putting up a run. The score ends at 5-0, and Wrigley Field celebrates a pennant. L.A. fans go to sleep with the dream of a Dodgers World Series, a dream amplified by the 9/9 earthquake, now dead. When they wake up Sunday morning, they anxiously count the hours to kickoff for the Knights, who have dreams of their own after opening the season 6-0.

 

Players take the field for warm-ups in San Diego, an invisible line separating the teams at midfield. Every player, coach, and trainer keeps to their side of the field until Flash crosses the line to meet Rose. A few cameramen run in, reacting to a blue and white jersey communicating, though they only capture a loose, friendly conversation.

 

“How you been?” Rose asks. “It’s been a while since we had you over.”

 

“Got a new girl, actually,” Flash says.

 

“Hey! Finally, some good news. Why haven’t you brought her around?”

 

“Tryin’ not to get too comfortable. Could be anywhere in the country next year.”

 

“Well, wherever you are, you’ll always be welcome here. You know that.”

 

“Yeah, I do.”

 

They both look up at the sight of someone not in uniform walking up to them.

 

“Afternoon, gentlemen,” Phillips says. Neither player hides their discomfort, and the scene is blisteringly awkward, as Phillips figured it would be. “Malik, I know we never got a chance to talk after everything went down last year, but—”

 

“It’s all good,” Rose says, stepping away.

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah. Just business.”

 

Rose breaks into a jog toward his teammates. That went better than Phillips hoped, so he turns to Flash.

 

“I know you’re not my biggest fan either, after this past offseason, with the franchise tag and everything.”

 

Flash nods stoically. He’s determined not to show how much he despises this man.

 

“Flash, I want you to know how much I appreciate you giving it your all this season after thinking you were gone. You’re a true professional. When the season is over, you’ll have offers from a lot of teams, including us. I only hope you’ll consider it, because we want you back. We want you to be a Knight for a long time.”

 

“We’ll see,” Flash says quickly before jogging back toward the visitors’ side of the field.

 

Phillips sighs, not sure if that went great, terrible, or somewhere in between. He looks across the field, where Harden and Daniel are talking, another odd sight.

 

“You haven’t been returning my phone calls,” Daniel says.

 

“I don’t know, wanted to wait until after the season, I guess.”

 

“You’ve lost weight. You look good.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Harden isn’t sure how he feels about Caden Daniel, or how he’s supposed to feel. This is a man who gave Harden a chance when Carolina wanted nothing to do with him, a man whose leadership style clashed with Harden’s but supported him at every turn.

 

Then again, he coaches and represents the Knights’ archrivals. And the memories of the 2014 AFC Championship and both regular-season blowouts are still fresh in Harden’s mind. He guesses they are in Daniel’s, too.

 

 

 

Chargers fans get loud as Wilkes lines up wide right, Rose staring him down. The first few plays are designed for Wilkes to feel out his man a little, get an idea of how he can get open. So Maverick targets Bishop, Watson, and Harper, connecting and moving the chains.

 

Wilkes thinks of nothing but his routes, sticking to quick ins and outs for now. When he breaks, Rose breaks with him. He can feel Rose’s arms on him at every step. He’s expecting some trash talk, but Rose blankets him without a word. The Knights stay on the field, letting Wilkes run plenty of routes as Jameson takes a few carries into field goal range.

 

Facing third and five, McKenzie calls Wilkes’ number. He lines up wide left, trying not to show his excitement. He breaks off the line and runs along the sideline, timing his spin just as Maverick’s throw comes in. He extends his hands as Rose’s arm deflects the pass out of bounds.

 

“Good throw, Mav,” McKenzie says on the sideline, Wilkes within earshot. “Nothing either of you could do there.”

 

“I’ll get him,” Wilkes says.

 

McCabe makes the short kick, and the Knights are on the scoreboard first. The offense debriefs with coaches, and a punt returns them to the field.

 

The Knights line up in a five-receiver set, a miracle among them. Maverick drops back and looks left for #85, who breaks on a simple out route, catches the pass, and goes out of bounds onto the Knights’ sideline.

 

The stadium PA announcer’s words ring throughout the stadium, “Pass complete to Alex Johnson, gain of five yards.”

 

Players and coaches gravitate towards Johnson, celebrating the return of a man who had his entire ankle reconstructed by some of the world’s best surgeons. Johnson stays on the sideline as Chargers fans around the stadium give him a classy ovation. It’s a nice moment, the kind that makes for good TV, but it means little to him. He already experienced his emotional climax when he was able to walk again. He spends the rest of the drive on the bench, entrenched as fourth receiver on the depth chart, a lowly designation that makes him wonder why he came back.

 

Another field goal gives the Knights defense a 6-0 lead as it lines up against Philip Rivers. Harden’s target is the offensive line, but his attention shifts to the secondary as Rivers finds Keenan Allen and Tyrell Williams for large chunks of yards. The Chargers reach the red zone, where Rivers floats a pass for Melvin Gordon, on a wheel route against Harrington, who catches it in stride as he crosses the goal line.

 

Qualcomm Stadium buzzes with the home team ahead after one quarter. A few inexplicable last-minute losses have sunk the Chargers to 2-4 this season, but fans would probably allow a season full of losses to knock off the Knights today. Conversely, the Knights would rather their winning streak end at the hands of any other team.

 

The Knights get the ball back and face third and four. McKenzie dials up a receiver screen for Wilkes. Wilkes stares down Rose, takes a step forward, then backs up for Maverick’s pass. He sets his feet with the ball flying in, and Rose surges ahead to swat it down. Wilkes’ eyes find Harper as the punt team comes out.

 

“What was that?”

 

“He slid around me,” Harper says. “I didn’t have an angle.”

 

“Man, you supposed to be blocking him!”

 

Harden notices the commotion, which subsides, and seeks out McKenzie.

 

“What’s going on, Mac?”

 

“It’s the same fucking story. They’re not doubling Wilkes, so they have room to cover everyone else.”

 

“This is a surprise? You had all week to come up with something. I sure hope this isn’t it.”

 

Harden goes back to his defense, stuck with poor field position. They allow some more big catches before tightening up, and the drive ends with a Nick Novak field goal.

 

Wilkes composes himself for the next drive, calmed down by McKenzie promising some deep shots. He lines up in various places, even in the slot a few times, Rose glued to him on every route.

 

He runs deeper routes, cutting ten, fifteen yards down the field. Rose stays with him every step. After Bishop earns a new set of downs with a tough catch in traffic, McKenzie calls the big play.

 

Wilkes runs straight ahead, no deception, reaching full speed with Rose behind him. He feels he’s beat him, but Rose closes the gap. Wilkes looks up, surprised to see a pass flying in. Both leap for it simultaneously. It bounces off someone’s hands, and they both hit the ground.

 

Wilkes shoves Rose into the grass as he gets to his feet, but Rose pops right back up. Wilkes is sure they’re about to fight, but Rose says nothing, just looking at him with a menacing stare. Wilkes does his best to stare back as coaches call him back to the sideline.

 

The Knights soon punt, and the Chargers do the same minutes later. The game’s energy wanes as halftime nears. The Chargers eventually start a drive on their own seventeen with 1:15 on the clock. Harden calls an outside blitz and Grantzinger, who has been unblockable today, lines up with his eyes on Rivers.

 

Rivers fakes a handoff to Gordon and looks downfield as Grantzinger explodes off the line. Rivers winds up as Grantzinger swats his arm, and the ball hits the ground. It bounces backwards as everybody dives for it, and a pile builds at the nine-yard line. Officials peel away the carnage with both teams claiming possession, but at the bottom of the pile is Luck, the football clutched against his chest.

 

Maverick runs onto the field with the offense, set up beautifully with first and goal, eight yards from the end zone. An end zone fade for Wilkes is on everyone’s mind, so McKenzie calls Jameson’s number first. He runs into a wall of linebackers for a two-yard gain. Second and goal. Maverick looks for Wilkes but spots Bishop instead, who catches it and goes down on the three. Third and goal.

 

Jameson and Bishop line up in the backfield with two receivers right. Wilkes and Rose are wide left, no one within ten yards of them. Everyone in the stadium watches Wilkes run for the corner of the end zone, Rose stuck to him, as the ball comes flying. Rose turns and jumps at the last second, but the pass sails over both of them. Maverick curses himself in frustration and avoids everyone on the sideline as McCabe’s chip shot makes it 10-9, Chargers, at halftime.

 

After halftime, McKenzie calls plays with an added array of screens and quick passes, but they only reinforce the part of the offense that’s working. With Wilkes invisible and Watson somehow struggling to get open deep, the downfield element of the Knights offense is gone.

 

Still, McKenzie is smart enough to not forget Jameson, who gashes the Chargers’ weak run defense and takes the Knights across midfield on the second half’s opening drive. Then Maverick resumes the nickel-and-dime attack, leaning on Bishop. On third and one, Jameson runs off-tackle left into a wall of defenders, and McCabe comes out again. He boots a forty-eight yarder that slides inside the right goal post, retaking the lead for Los Angeles, 12-10.

 

“Alright, ladies,” McKenzie says on the sideline, “good drive. Let’s regroup.”

 

“Man, good drive my ass,” Wilkes says. “You had me twice, Mav.”

 

“Like hell I did! 25 was all over you.”

 

“You gotta let me make a play!”

 

“Hey!” McKenzie says, stepping between the two. “Chill the fuck out. You want targets? Get separation. Otherwise I don’t want to hear any bitching.”

 

McKenzie walks away, wanting to get away from Wilkes and let the position coaches do their jobs.

 

“Man, don’t do me like that! I’m getting separation! You gotta feed me the ball.”

 

Wilkes keeps pleading his case against Maverick’s useless responses. He knew the end of his touchdown streak was a real possibility coming into this game, but the idea of leaving San Diego with zero catches is unacceptable.

 

Eventually, Bishop gets in the middle and settles things down, telling Maverick, “You know him, he just wants looks.”

 

“I know how to handle him by now. Nice catch on that slant, by the way.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

The offense watches the defense give up first down after first down until Rivers floats a pass to the back of the end zone for Keenan Allen, and the Chargers are in front again.

 

The Knights get back to work leaning on the run game again. McKenzie wants to remain patient; plus, attacking the Chargers’ run defense is his best way to score points. A few plays later, though, the Chargers make a stop on third and short, and the Knights punt.

 

The Chargers fail to add to their lead, but the clock ticks, and fans around the stadium grow increasingly confident with the home team leading, 17-12. They applaud and hold four fingers in the air as players traverse the field for the final quarter.

 

Now desperate, McKenzie reaches deep into his playbook, calling screen passes to NesSmith and quarterback draws up the middle. These involve a lot of adjustments at the line, running the play clock down and taking plenty of time, but the Knights get something going.

 

Wilkes keeps battling with Rose on the outside as the offense gives the ball to everyone else. He begins to suspect they’re using him as a diversion with no intention of looking his way, and if that’s the case, there’s gonna be a problem.

 

Maverick slides on the grass after a twelve-yard-gain, putting the Knights in field goal range with momentum on their side. Two plays later, Maverick fires for the end zone on third down. Watson runs along the sideline, covered, and jumps to make an off-balance catch, but the throw is off-line and bounces off his hands.

 

Watson keeps his head down on his way to the bench, bothered by everyone slapping him on the helmet and shoulders, encouraging him for not making a “tough catch” on a “bad throw.” If there’s one thing he’s sensitive to when he’s struggling with drops, it’s his teammates trying to help him.

 

McCabe’s field goal is good again, and Harden’s defense takes the field with 11:35 on the clock, tasked with keeping the score 17-15. McKenzie plans the next drive in similar fashion, knowing if the Chargers get a touchdown here, it’s probably over.

 

The Knights defense yields a few first downs before forcing a punt. The kick goes out of bounds at the fifteen, and the Knights take the field with 6:33 left. After Jameson goes nowhere, McKenzie calls a deep shot for Wilkes.

 

Lined up on the left side next to Watson, Wilkes breaks on a slant, and Rose runs toward him. He plants his right foot in the grass and swipes Rose’s arm, shoving him aside just enough, and takes off downfield, no safeties in sight. He reaches full speed with Rose a step behind and looks up. Throw the fucking ball, Mav.

 

Behind a clean pocket, Maverick takes his time, sets his feet, and fires. Wilkes and Rose stay at full speed as the pass hits Wilkes in stride. His adrenaline keeps his legs moving, eyes on the end zone. He can feel Rose behind him as he crosses the forty, thirty, twenty…

 

Rose gets his fingers on Wilkes, who swats his right hand back to deflect him, left hand clutching the ball. Rose reaches one last time, grabbing onto his jersey, but Wilkes applies a solid stiff-arm, holding himself upright as his momentum takes them both across the goal line. Wilkes slows down, arm still latched onto Rose. He plants his feet, lifts Rose off the grass, and slams him down on the grass.

 

The crowd shouts angrily, along with the Chargers sideline, and players from both teams run in. Multiple blue jerseys take their best shot at Wilkes, who somehow avoids everyone and jogs back to the bench with some jostling in the end zone. Officials settle the chaos with multiple flags, but Wilkes smiles from ear to ear on his way to the bench. Two offsetting personal fouls and a missed two-point conversion later, the Knights lead, 21-17.

 

Fans and players prepare for an intense finish, but an incompletion and a Grantzinger sack brings up third and twenty. Rivers falls under pressure again and lofts one deep over the middle that Flash catches easily. He runs around a bit before going down, and fans head for the exits while the Knights run out the clock.

 

Amidst the biggest victory of the year, Wilkes is the happiest man on the bench. He’s putting together a season for the ages, and he’s incredibly proud of today’s stat line: 1 catch, 85 yards, 1 touchdown.

 

Despite high tension, the post-game handshakes commence without incident. These teams meet again in week 17, and everyone knows it.

 

 

 

The Knights’ dramatic win against a division rival and 7-0 record keeps spirits high around the MedComm Center, higher than they’ve been in recent memory, but Phillips struggles to find comfort. Every conversation with Schneider leaves him distracted, and every meeting with Stein is as disagreeable as ever. Not long after seeing the players run off the practice field, he limps to Schneider’s office, finding it empty.

 

You know what? Hell with it.

 

Phillips crutches to the elevator and bolts for the head coach’s office, where he finds Harden, apparently not in the middle of anything.

 

“We need to talk,” Phillips says, not realizing how desperate he sounds.

 

“I’m on my way out,” Harden says. “Mel and Trish are expecting me.”

 

“Tell them you’re gonna be late.”

 

Harden looks up, recognizing how serious this is. Fine. He can spare a few minutes. He gestures as if to say, Go ahead. Phillips nods and closes the door.

 

“I guess I’ve gotta start at the beginning,” Phillips says.

 

“The fuck is this, some kind of fable?”

 

For a second, Phillips hesitates, understanding the gravity of this conversation if he goes through with it. He does.

 

He starts in 2012, detailing the saga of Caden Daniel’s firing, the true story from his perspective. He leaves out, for now, his plan to fire then-defensive coordinator Harden as a fall guy, but spares no detail otherwise. He unloads a mess of facts and snippets about Schneider, ultimately leading up to the relocation battle surrounding Los Angeles and, finally, the looming move to London.

 

Harden thinks about everything for a minute, not knowing where to begin analyzing, eventually asking, “Why are you telling me this, Chance? Is there a request at the end of this conversation?”

 

“No, I…I just wanted you to know, I suppose. I always meant to tell you what happened in ’12. Now’s as good a time as any, given the circumstances.”

 

“Alright,” Harden says, standing up. “I’ve got an idea.”

 

Phillips’ eyes widen, suspecting this “idea” could range from Let’s sleep on it to Let’s blow the whole thing up.

 

“We’re on bye next week. Got any plans for Sunday?”

 

“Uh…nothing comes to mind. Actually, I think Melissa was gonna take the kids to—”

 

“That’s it, then,” Harden says, waving his hand. “You’re coming over. We’ll hang out, watch some football, talk things over. Melinda will make us some food and everything.”

 

“Sounds good,” Phillips says as Harden slaps his shoulder and walks past, gone for the day.

 

 

 

With Melissa nursing a fever, Chance takes command of the kitchen. Though still in a cast, he can move about the house without any crutches, so every chore is a welcome opportunity to walk around. He leads Jack and Max in an effort to prepare dinner while listening to their plans for the weekend. Nobody asks him about his flight to Tampa tomorrow. He thinks about the days when either Jack or Max would be accompanying him on that flight, solemnly realizing those days are long gone.

 

“And you,” Chance says, pointing his finger at Jack, “let’s get some study time in after dinner tonight. Gotta get those grades up.”

 

“I have straight A’s, dad,” Jack says.

 

“You do?”

 

“How many times do I have to say this? School is easier this year. I have good teachers, especially now that I don’t have Mr. Simon, and—”

 

“Why didn’t I hear about this? This is good news!”

 

“You were busy. You’re always busy. I figured Mom would tell you. Max! Where’s the salad fork?”

 

Max runs in from the dining room, holding out the plastic forks and handing them to his brother, unintentionally spearing him in the arm.

 

“Ow!” Jack yells. “That hurt! What the hell?”

 

“I’m sorry if you can’t catch!”

 

“Boys,” Chance says sternly. “That’s enough, okay? Let’s get this finished.”

 

“Idiot,” Jack says. “You don’t hand people sharp things by stabbing them with them, dickhead.”

 

“Shut up!” Max screams.

 

“HEY!” Chance says, thrusting himself between the two just in time to prevent shoving. Max pouts and runs for the staircase, stomping his feet on each step towards his room.

 

“Nothing you can do sometimes,” Chance says to himself, at a loss for words otherwise.

 

“Oh, c’mon, dad,” Jack says.

 

“What?”

 

“Of all your stupid ‘dad advice’ over the years, isn’t that one of the big ones? ‘No matter what the situation, don’t think you’re out of options. There’s always something you can do.’ How many times did I hear that speech?”

 

Chance thinks about that. “Stupid, huh?”

 

“Ugh, you know what I mean.”

 

No, not stupid, Chance thinks to himself. Not stupid at all.

 

 

 

The streak is over.

 

A hodgepodge of missed tackles, miscommunication, and sloppy play culminates in a 17-0 Buccaneers lead, and Knights fans watching Sunday Night Football resign themselves to the fact that their team will be 7-1 heading into the bye week. Then, with 0:58 to go in the half, Jameis Winston heaves up a wobbly pass that Flash and Stone somehow lose in the lights and Mike Evans comes down with in the end zone.

 

Then, Maverick throws a sideline pass off his back foot that Brent Grimes takes the other way, and the second quarter finally ends with Raymond James Stadium booming.

 

Buccaneers 31, Knights 0.

 

After discussing adjustments with position coaches, players wait for the inevitable lashing from Coach Harden, which comes as a single sentence: “If we lose this game by twenty or more, everyone in here is working the entire bye week, I swear.”

 

No player disbelieves an ounce of that vow, so the Knights come out in the second half full of energy.

 

It doesn’t help. The Knights punt the ball as quickly as they receive it, and Harden decides he’s had enough.

 

“What the fuck, Mac?” he says to McKenzie, huddling with other offensive coaches. “This ain’t the ’02 Bucs with Brooks and Barber.”

 

“One series, Merle. Give me some time.”

 

“Put some goddamn points on the board.”

 

The Knights eventually get the ball back with terrible field position and string together a few first downs. None of the deep throws McKenzie calls work out, but slowly, three or four yards at a time, the Knights crawl down the field. It takes most of the third quarter, but they reach the end zone when Watson finds a soft spot in coverage and absorbs a bullet pass.

 

Two-point conversions could make it a four-possession game, so McKenzie keeps the offense on the field. The Bucs make the mistake of leaving Wilkes in single coverage, so Maverick throws him an easy jump ball, and it’s 31-8.

 

Harden is giddy to send his defense out again, eager for a momentum swing now that the offense has remembered how to score. But Winston makes it look easy, especially with his legs, scrambling to extend plays and either finding receivers downfield or getting first downs himself. He puts a nasty spin move on Harrington, forcing Harden to consider subbing Brock in for the rest of the series. (Brock knows better than to ask.)

 

A few plays later, Randall runs Winston down on third and three, setting up a long Roberto Aguayo field goal that sails through, and it’s 34-8 with 1:31 left in the third quarter.

 

No sense in a façade of balance, McKenzie has Maverick operate exclusively out of shotgun with four- and five-receiver sets. The Bucs back off, playing it safe to prevent anything downfield, so Maverick leans on Johnson and Bishop.

 

The fourth quarter begins. The Knights operate a fast-paced, pass-only offense. The Bucs allow plenty of space within ten yards, so Maverick takes it. Dipping and dunking down the field, Maverick finally takes a deep drop and fires for Wilkes, in double coverage. The ball zips perfectly between the corner and safety, and Wilkes slides through the end zone with the ball in hand.

 

The Knights line up for another two-point conversion. Tampa doubles Wilkes this time, so Maverick checks down to a Jameson run, but the blocking collapses. The score holds at 34-14, 12:55 to go. McKenzie decides against further two-pointers, since three touchdowns with extra points wins it.

 

Harden watches his defense surrender more first downs at Winston’s hands, thinking of his vow to work the team during the bye week, a tactic that would lead to a wave of fines from the league, every cent of which he would gladly pay.

 

Then, Randall and Grantzinger combine for a third-down sack, forcing a Buccaneers punt. A well-executed coffin corner pins the Knights on their own six-yard-line with 9:36 on the clock.

 

Maverick picks up where the last drive left off. This time, though, he leans heavily on Johnson, who gets open on every route. Like last week, Johnson lines up against mediocre corners, but today he doesn’t care. At this point, after months of rehab, it feels good to run routes, to plant his cleats in the grass and see the ball coming for him, to sniff out soft spots in zone coverage.

 

It feels good to play football again.

 

Across midfield and moving fast, the Knights stick to five-wide sets. Maverick drops back, fakes a quick pass, and looks deep. Watson gets behind the defense close to the end zone, looks up for the pass, and realizes it’s overthrown. Watson extends his right arm for it as he crosses the goal line, slowing down for a split-second before realizing the ball is in his hand. He doesn’t believe it until teammates come running down the field, jumping on him. His shock fades after the extra point, but only slightly.

 

Buccaneers 34, Knights 21, 6:20 to go.

 

Harden thinks Tampa should go aggressive, but they only try to run the clock. It works, though, and a first down brings the clock toward the four-minute mark. Another one, and the Knights have to burn timeouts, an unpleasant thing to do down two touchdowns.

 

Third and three. The Knights inch closer to the line as the clock ticks. 3:33, 3:32… Winston fakes a handoff and drops back. Pressure comes up the middle. He fires toward the sideline for his tight end. Randall undercuts the route and catches it. He runs past the frantic Knights sideline toward the end zone, and no one catches him.

 

The extra point puts the Knights down six points in a game they once trailed by thirty-one. The offense excitedly huddles around Coach McKenzie, waiting for the ball back.

 

The defense holds. Two timeouts and a punt later, the Knights take the field on their own twenty-eight with 2:55 on the clock.

 

Wilkes and Watson are covered deep, so Maverick checks it down to Bishop and Johnson. They get easy first downs, but the clock runs. The two-minute warning hits with the Knights just past midfield. The Bucs protect the sideline, so Maverick works the middle some more. He finds Wilkes on a crossing route that sets up first and goal at the ten. 0:39, 0:38…

 

The Knights hurry to the line, preserving their last timeout. Maverick fires for Wilkes in the end zone but misses. Then he drops back looking for Bishop, but pass rush forces him to step up, tuck the ball, and run. He only gets a few yards before sliding down. Instinctively, he pops up and calls timeout. Everyone in the stadium takes a breath and sizes up the scenario.

 

Third and goal from the six, 8 seconds left, no timeouts. Two quick shots into the end zone.

 

McKenzie decides on a call, discusses some details with Maverick, and the Knights line up in shotgun, four receivers plus Jameson to Maverick’s right. Bucs fans get loud as Maverick takes the snap. He looks to the end zone, sizing up the safeties for a split-second, and he hands the ball off.

 

Jameson bolts through pass rushers, two red jerseys converging on his path to the end zone. He prepares for a collision he’s endured many times before, lowering his shoulders and slamming into defenders. He stops two yards short, stumbles, finds his feet as the Bucs drag him down, spins, and dives. The ball extends over the goal line, and Jameson is only on the ground a second before teammates lift him up.

 

Amidst the sideline chaos, Harden sends out the field goal unit and finds McKenzie. “You’ve got some fuckin’ balls, Mac.”

 

McCabe’s extra point sails through, and the Bucs’ lateral-filled attempt at a miracle ends with a fumble. The game is over. Knights 35, Buccaneers 34.

 

The Knights storm the field, high-fiving, fist bumping, screaming at each other, celebrating with vigor they’ve never felt outside the playoffs. They ride an energy high that will keep them awake long into their celebratory flight home.

 

Tampa Bay fans go to sleep in shock (many are already sleeping peacefully with bad news waiting for them in the morning) while Los Angeles enjoys a party for a few more hours, their football team halfway to an undefeated season courtesy of the greatest regular-season comeback in league history.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[RazorStar 4,025]

Well you can't have a super bowl winning season without some insane luck. Jefferspin-Wilkes owning Malik and leading a ridiculous comeback on the Bucs probably counts hahaha.

[Bangy 19]

RIP Jaxson

[SteVo+ 3,702]

RIP Jaxson

 

You know what? I messed this up.

 

My original outline for Part VI had Jaxson getting hurt early in the season so he would miss this game, but then I nixed it. I did not, however, re-write this game with Jaxson's presence. So, that is a mistake on my part.

 

That being said, Knights/Chargers week 17. I got you.

[Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014]

-Alex actually made it back? wtf?

-Hey, finally someone told D-Jam to stfu

-What a comeback. I didn't think they'd really do it.