SteVo+ 3,702 Posted March 10, 2017 | | | | Knights of Andreas Part VI Chapter Seventy-One – Before We Say Goodbye Less than twelve hours after giving his team the entire week off, Harden takes the podium for his Monday press conference. The Knights don’t face an opponent this Sunday, but considering they are one of three undefeated teams in the AFC, reporters have plenty to ask about. Harden expects a horde of stupid comments about last night’s comeback, but to their credit, they get straight to it. After Harden confirms some injury news, he hears the first question of the day: “Coach, I know it’s early, but have you thought at all about the possibility of going undefeated? And if so, what’s your personal belief on playing for it versus resting players, if things are clinched and what not?” “Damn right we’re going for it,” Harden says. “The objective is to win every game, as it always has been, but you hardly ever get a team capable of doing it. So, yeah, 16-0 is our goal. Well, 19-0 is the goal, but, one step at a time.” Another reporter cuts in, “What gives you the idea that this team’s capable of running the table, coach?” “Well, the fact that we’re 8-0 is pretty much a giveaway. Any more dumb questions?” Front offices don’t get bye weeks, so the MedComm Center second floor is business as usual. Phillips, now enjoying full muscular function of both legs, finds reasons to walk from office to office, taking the stairs to attend all the coaches’ meetings for the day. At the conclusion of one meeting, the room empties save for Harden and a few others, so Phillips steps close. “Hey, we still on for Sunday?” Phillips asks. “Bet your ass,” Harden says. “Come over whenever. And don’t wear a tie this time.” Phillips laughs, remembering last year’s dinner he and Melissa attended. Minutes later, he pops into Schneider’s office to drop off some papers, surprised to see Schneider standing by the window, holding what looks like a football uniform up to the light. “What’s that there?” Phillips asks. “I haven’t told you? New jerseys for next season!” “We’re getting new jerseys? Already?” “This is an early model, a rough draft, so to speak. But it’s more or less what I envisioned.” Schneider hands him the jersey, bearing Maverick’s name and number, admiring the fabric while Phillips inspects it. The adjustments are subtle, transitioning to a sleeker, modern look. Still black, the jerseys will now feature more purple and silver, mixed in without being too striking. It is a transition from the current jerseys, a predominantly black scheme that resembles the Raiders’ uniforms. This was Schneider’s plan from the beginning. “Looks good,” Phillips says honestly. “Pants and helmets too?” “Pants will change slightly to match the jerseys. We’re experimenting with purple helmets but we’ll probably stick with black. And there’s too many silver helmets around the league as it is.” Phillips continues studying the fabric and stitched lettering, wondering if these new jerseys are change for the sake of change—or symbols of a new era in Knights football. Players have had this week marked on their calendars since the schedule came out in April. In the months since, they have considered a variety of options, trying to decide how best to spend seven days away from football. The 9/9 earthquake changed the equation for some, amplifying either their instinct to stay in Los Angeles or their urge to leave. Luck puts in a few days of public charity work, grateful for the extra hours afforded by no practice. Then, he and Brenda make good on their promise to stop by the Bishop household. Taking advantage of beautiful weather, they spend most of their time in the back yard while Logan cooks on the grill. Ashley and Brenda compare the size of their expanding bellies and approaching due dates (Ashley is due November 25th, Brenda the 26th). “Have you thought about it at all?” Sam asks at one point while the wives are preoccupied elsewhere. “About what?” Logan asks while flipping the rest of the hamburgers. “About what that day’s gonna be like.” Logan closes the grill. “Not really. Just been hoping for a healthy baby. Besides, what do we really know until it happens?” “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Sam and Logan spend the rest of the day discussing various topics, occasionally pondering fatherhood, never mentioning football. Grodd tries to maintain a low profile as he boards an international flight to Winnipeg, but it’s hard for a 305-pound man to hide. He attracts plenty of attention from fans, signing a fair amount of autographs for an offensive guard. After an hour-long layover in Calgary, a short flight puts Grodd in Winnipeg, where he rents a car and drives two hours towards western Manitoba. His first words to Penner, greeting him in the driveway are, “Couldn’t have just stayed in L.A.?” “I never miss a chance to come to this place,” Penner says. Grodd can’t blame him. A beautiful combination of lakes, mountains, and valleys makes up the landscape, and the 30-degree weather doesn’t bother Grodd, who grew up in the American Midwest. Grodd blends in with the Penner clan right away. It’s difficult to determine whether Penner’s two sons or three dogs enjoy Grodd’s company more. Penner’s kids seem to love football as much as their dad, so they spend hours recounting old stories, of Penner’s time in the CFL, of Grodd’s college days at Iowa, of their most memorable games together since the Knights made Grodd the 22nd pick of the 2012 draft. Flash makes the scenic drive down California’s coast towards San Diego, sparse conversation with his girlfriend filling the time. Once there, they have a great time, as Flash always does. But when Malik mentions Tatyana’s 3rd birthday is coming up, he realizes how big Malik’s girls have gotten already. He won’t admit it to Malik, but he now finds himself wondering about the future, about when he’ll have children of his own. But before any of that can be decided, he needs to find out where he’ll play football next year. He currently has no desire to do so in Los Angeles. Power finally restored to Randall’s house, he decides to host a party. Most of his teammates already have plans, but enough attend to make it worthwhile, including Grantzinger and Brock. The trio ends up eating plates full of greasy, fattening food (Randall has cooked some organic stuff for Grantzinger), knowing they don’t have to weigh in again for several days, when Grantzinger notices a notepad near the TV with a remote lying on top of it. Grantzinger: “Were you watching film before we got here?” Randall: “Of course.” Grantzinger: “Damn man, on a bye week. Give it a rest.” Brock: “At least you guys still see the field.” Grantzinger: “You did this to yourself, Sean.” Randall: “Hey, ease up, Zack. Let’s not get into it here.” He takes another bite of his cheeseburger. “But seriously, Sean, you don’t have to be stuck on the bench forever.” Brock: “This again?” Grantzinger: “Don’t be a bitch, Sean. Briggs is right.” Brock ignores them, focusing on his food. If they keep going on about this, they’ll bring up his debts again, though it’s not all bad news on that front. He has used his weekly checks this year to pay off a few guys like Martin and Bishop. So, it’s a start. Trisha drives to Maverick’s house, and they take off in Mav’s Audi, riding north towards wine country. The two have been looking for an extended vacation, and thanks to Mav’s growing (and surprising) appreciation for wine, a road trip to Sonoma qualifies. Mav’s celebrity status forces them to construct their vacation with private tours, and they can’t simply walk from winery to winery or restaurant to restaurant. So they spend most of the trip enjoying each other’s company, far from a bad thing. They both enjoy a few days away from football, away from their families, to enjoy each other, to think about each other. Chance eases his car into the driveway, spotting Merle on the porch. Just as he shuts the car door, Bowser leaps off the porch. Chance braces for an attack, but the Doberman instead circles his legs, sniffing his khakis and shoes, so Chance pets his head and scratches behind his ears. “Thought you might wear jeans, but this is an odd sight as it is,” Merle says, sporting a buttoned-down Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. Chance has to hand it to him; he has one of the most stressful jobs in the world, but the man knows how to relax. “Take a seat. Early games just started.” Chance sits down with Bowser laying at his feet while Merle flips through multiple channels, trying to pick the best football game to display on the 42-inch TV mounted against the wall. He eventually settles on Lions/Vikings, eager to watch Minnesota’s defense. “Nice setup you’ve got here,” Chance says, taking in the tranquil, tree-filled surroundings. “I got you something,” Merle says, reaching down next to him and summoning a six-pack of aluminum cans, which Chance quickly recognizes as Yuengling. “Didn’t ask what you liked, I know. Wanted to surprise you, I guess.” “You getting sentimental, Merle?” “It’ll never happen again, I swear.” Chance smiles, removing one can from the plastic wrapping. Merle points to a nearby cooler, into which Chance deposits the rest. As he cracks open the beer, he stares at the game on the TV screen, hesitating. “This is strange,” Chance says. “Something wrong already?” “I can’t remember the last time I had a beer while watching a football game. College, maybe?” “What’s wrong with you?” “Game day has always been work for me. Well, cheers.” “Cheers.” Merle raises his glass of iced tea. They both drink and look at the TV screen, commenting only on the game for a few minutes. The Vikings defense allows a touchdown on the opening drive. A few minutes later, the Redskins move the ball again, reaching the end zone on a long touchdown pass to Vernon Davis, and the Vikings are down 14-0. “Frauds,” Merle says, snatching the remote and searching for another game. “No RedZone?” Chance asks. “I refuse to pay for that fantasy football bullshit. That’s not how you watch a football game.” Moments after Merle settles on Eagles/Giants, Melinda comes out with a plate of appetizers. “Where’s Trish?” Chance asks after Melinda goes back inside. Merle frowns. “Out. With Mav.” Chance doesn’t say anything. He isn’t sure what to think of his starting quarterback dating the head coach’s daughter, but he doesn’t have to guess how Merle feels. “Where’s Melissa and the kids?” Merle asks. “She has a sister who lives out here, actually, so she took the kids to see her.” “And you managed to get out of it, huh?” Chance doesn’t respond, preferring not to get to that subject yet. Instead, he works on his first beer, enjoying the football and food. When he feels Melinda isn’t about to barge in on the conversation, he brings up London. “You can bet I ain’t goin’,” Harden says. “I imagine plenty of the players wouldn’t, either.” “The players are under contract.” “So am I, but you think that would tie me down?” Chance realizes Merle has more leverage than most of the players would, but his point is convincing nonetheless. He ponders it for a few minutes while watching the game. “You know, it’s funny,” Merle eventually says. “When you were you giving me the rundown last week, you mentioned 2012, when Daniel ended up getting canned.” “Yeah?” “Guess I never told anyone outside this house, but, before you offered me the head-coaching gig, I was gonna retire. Actually, I was sure of it.” “You were?” “I really thought we’d make a run of it that year. Maybe one loss turns into a win and we still do. Anyway, I was coordinating a young defense with tons of talent…at the time, I figured a playoff push would have been my run towards the sunset. Instead I stuck around, and it cost me my wife and daughter. At least I got ‘em back.” Chance replays that conversation he had with Merle, offering the head coach position, remembering every detail. It was cold and rainy in the parking lot, and he remembers the look of surprise on Merle’s face. He goes back through his memories of those tumultuous weeks, now knowing what Merle just told him. Both men watch football for a while, commenting only on the games. Chance makes a point of mentioning that both the Steelers and Patriots are 8-0, but Merle, of course, hardly seems worried. Another beer or so later, Chance finds his thoughts wandering and vocalizes them. “You know,” he says, “that ride-into-the-sunset plan doesn’t sound so bad.” “What, you’re not into European culture either?” “London or Los Angeles. Either way.” “What are you talking about?” “Well…” Chance looks around. “You’ve got a pretty sweet setup here, Merle. Wife and daughter you love, they support you…” “Easier to balance with one kid as opposed to three,” Merle points out. “And it’s also easier with Trish being older.” “Regardless, I’ve been thinking lately about something my dad said.” “Oh, here we go. Maybe I should have a beer.” “I can’t remember it word for word—it was typical father advice stuff—about family being more important than anything you’ll ever accomplish in life. Something like that. And lately, I’m starting to feel like maybe I’m missing something.” Merle thinks about that; he certainly appreciates where Chance is coming from. “Besides,” Chance says, “I’ve set this team up perfectly. Contenders for the next five-plus years with competent management.” “Yeah, but with you running things, they’re Super Bowl contenders for the next decade.” “I can’t ponder this decision every year. I’ve got to choose.” “Damn it, do you want my opinion, or are you just rambling?” “Sorry.” Chance refocuses, making a point of eating some more food before his next beer. Neither says anything for a few minutes. They focus on football long enough to shift the topic of discussion. A commercial comes up, and Chance decides this is an appropriate moment. He’s built up enough of a buzz to do it. “I know about the cancer, Merle. I’m sorry.” “Did someone tell you?” Chance’s heart sinks. He had been clinging to the faint hope that Javad’s report was false, that it was his last effort at reconciliation, that Merle had simply lost weight and hair from old age. “I have a source at Good Samaritan.” Merle relaxes, thankful neither Melinda nor Trisha talked, though he wouldn’t believe it if they did. “Does anyone else know?” “I haven’t said a word, and I don’t plan to.” “Good.” “Merle, I know this is hard, but I have a right…” Chance struggles with his words, wanting to sound as delicate as possible. “How bad is it?” “Let’s not beat around the goddamn bush,” Merle says, looking up at the game. “You can probably consider me on a retirement path. Mac will take the reins in a year or two.” Chance has to look away. On an instinctual level, he always suspected that would be the long-term plan, but the words are still difficult to hear. “So,” Chance says, “if we move to London…” “I won’t be the coach. Would have a hell of time talking Mel into it even if I wanted to. Have you mentioned it to Melissa yet?” Chance laughs. “I know better than to even bring it up.” “Ah, the sign of a good marriage.” Chance thinks about his marriage, and his family. He came here today not knowing what to expect, save for confirmation on Merle’s cancer. But something else is eating at him. “Merle…” “What?” “If the team does go to London, how do you think the locker room will take it?” “It won’t be pretty, I’ll say that much.” Chance cracks another beer. Harden gets to the MedComm Center early Monday morning, eager to get to work after a week off. It’s McKenzie who faces the greater challenge this week, up against Denver’s defense, but Harden doesn’t care. On his way into the building, he spots a lone car in the players’ lot but thinks nothing of it. He barely sets up shop in his office, all the Denver tape ready for watching, when he hears a knock behind him. “About time, Mac. We’re—” As Harden’s eyes find the doorway, his lips freeze. Brock stands before him, visibly tired and looking nervous. “Morning, coach,” he says. “What do you want? It’s rare enough to see you coming in early or staying late, let alone here on an off day.” “Can I talk to you?” “You already are. Get this over with, whatever it is.” Harden crosses his arms as Brock takes a step into the office, looking down. “I want back in the lineup, coach.” Okay, Harden figured that much. What else? “I’m sorry about all that shit I said. It was out of line. You were right.” Brock looks up, disappointed to see Harden’s completely unimpressed expression. C’mon, coach, this is hard enough as it is. “I still think the earthquake thing is bullshit—” “You just can’t help yourself, can you?” “But something special is happening this year, coach. I don’t know if the quake has anything to do with it or not, but something’s happening with this team. And I want to be part of it.” Harden relaxes his posture a little, finding that comment enticing. He tries to think about this from a football standpoint, ignoring everything else. “This would be a lot easier if you weren’t an insufferable prick, you know that?” Brock bows his head, almost in shame, saying nothing. “Okay. You’re a rotational player. You split reps with Harrington and I ride the hot hand. You want more snaps? Earn ‘em.” “No problem, coach,” Brock says, eyes lighting up. He bolts away from the office and into the parking lot, leaving a befuddled Harden to gather his tape and head for the film room. While the coaches develop their game plan, Phillips finds time in his office to finalize a plan of his own. Once he’s sure and ready to go through with it, he locks the door and takes out his cell phone, finding a number he hasn’t called in over a year. “Hello?” says a nervous voice on the other end of the phone. “Adam, it’s Chance Phillips.” “Yeah, I know,” Javad says, obviously uneasy about the circumstances of the call. “What’s going on?” “In a few minutes, a story is going to break. Don’t bother scrambling around with your sources. Confirm it.” “Wait. What…” In his apartment, Javad fumbles around on his desk, searching frantically for a pen and paper. “You were right about Harden,” Phillips says. “Cancer.” That freezes Javad, and he finally understands that this phone call isn’t Phillips trying to play him in any way. He keeps listening. “You were right about something else, too. I owe you a big story. It never sat well with me, the way things went between you and I.” Phillips pauses, hoping Javad believes that. After a few seconds of silence, he adds, “We’ll get together later this week. I’ll call you from my cell.” He hangs up, and the screen on his phone fades to his contact list. He has a long list of journalists on this list, and for this occasion, he calls the most notable. As he presses the phone to his ear, he checks again to make sure his office door is closed. “Adam, it’s Chance Phillips, speaking on the condition of anonymity. Got something big for you, and you have my word it’s legitimate.” Schneider flips through every sports channel on the TV in his office and clicks through every web site. The story is everywhere. He clicks back to ESPN and gathers the courage to unmute the TV. Analysts sit around a semicircular table with a graphic across the bottom of the screen: “BREAKING NEWS: Knights considering relocation to London.” Adam Schefter: “Well, we know the league has been looking at London for a few years now. They’ve consistently been exploring the idea of adding or moving a franchise there.” Trey Wingo: “But Adam, we have reported in recent weeks that the league owners are set to vote on relocation, for the Rams and Chargers, both potentially eyeing Los Angeles. And the league, Commissioner Goodell included, has voiced optimism regarding two teams there. This must have something to do with that dilemma, yes?” So furious he can barely think, Schneider slaps the buttons on his phone, reaching the office adjacent to his. “Chance, get in here. Now.” He slams down the phone and looks back at the screen. Schefter: “…certainly a bit of a surprise that Los Angeles, of all teams, would be the league’s pick to move to London. So it’s definitely possible this is part of a larger plan, that either the league, or perhaps Knights owner Wayne Schneider, actually does not want two teams to compete for the Los Angeles market.” It’s all out there now, for everyone to see and understand. All of Schneider’s careful planning is now worthless. “Wayne,” Phillips says, “what’s—” “Shut the door.” Phillips does so, and Schneider points to the TV screen, letting Phillips hear a few seconds of discussion before muting it again. “None of the other owners knew,” Schneider says. “They couldn’t have. How the fuck did this get out?” “How indeed,” Phillips says, sounding as smug as he can. Schneider’s eyes widen, and Phillips enjoys, briefly, how astonishingly stunned he is. “What in the world are you up to? What were you thinking?” Phillips puts his hands in his pockets, enjoying the confidence of having the upper hand. “Oh, you know how it is. To maintain relationships with press members that are mutually beneficial, you have to give them some things every now and then.” “So you give someone this? What the fuck is wrong with you, Chance? I specifically told you this couldn’t get out!” Phillips shrugs casually. “So fire me.” Schneider tries to subdue his anger. He needs to figure out Phillips’ true intentions here. “Are you always going to play the ‘fire me’ card in situations like this? I would enjoy it, believe me, but that’s not happening.” “What, then?” “You tell me. Why am I hearing about London on every channel? Why is my phone blowing up with inquiries from owners? I’m sure Roger will be calling any minute. Why am I standing here, desperately trying to figure out what to say?” As satisfying as it is to see Schneider this flustered, Phillips decides now is a good moment to seal the conversation. “I’m not moving to London,” Phillips says, walking towards the door. “Over the next few hours, I think you’ll find that I’m not alone.” Mav and Trish are in the middle of an excellent bottle of cabernet they got from Sonoma when Mav’s phone blows up with repeated calls from Wilkes. Mav wants to ignore him, but his persistence is a total buzzkill. “Ugh, I’m sorry, Trish.” “Tell him to stop going for one-handed catches all the time.” “And be less of a show-off? Yeah, right.” He answers the call. “What, D-Jam? I told you I’m in the middle of something.” “Turn on your TV,” Wilkes says. “ESPN.” “Is this really necessary?” “Do it, man, this shit is serious!” “Yeah, I’m sure it is.” Mav puts the phone down, D-Jam’s wining barely audible, and turns on the TV. This better be good… The headline speaks for itself. Mav almost knocks his wine glass over, suddenly eager for a sip. He doesn’t think to turn his head, but Trish looks just as shocked as he does. He grabs the phone. “You weren’t kidding.” “See? See?! What the fuck, Mav? What are we gonna do?” “We’re gonna chill the fuck out and get ready for Denver. What else? This is probably bullshit.” “No way, man! Ain’t gonna be no normal practice week with this shit!” “D-Jam, have a beer. We’ll talk tomorrow.” He hangs up, praying D-Jam doesn’t call back immediately. Mercifully, he doesn’t. Mav and Trish stare at the TV screen, taking in the news between sips of wine. “My dad’s not leaving, I can tell you that,” Trish says. “Which means you’re not leaving.” Her face answers the question. Mav grabs the bottle of wine, steadying his hand and pouring them both some more. After some of the best time together he and Trish have shared, he’s uncomfortable with their relationship being tested so suddenly. Throughout the next few hours, every Knight hears about the news, and despite a formal statement from the team denying the reports, everyone is forced to consider life in England, a radical change for most. No players make public comments, as requested by their agents, but the media has plenty of discussion on the matter. Reaction from Los Angeles draws universally negative reviews. Many unleash heated criticism on Schneider, who already left a passionate Oakland fan base in the dust, for departing a city still recovering from the 9/9 earthquake. Players return to the MedComm Center Tuesday morning and, as is typical during times of background noise, Coach Harden is intensely focused on the upcoming opponent, and nothing else. He consistently mocks the Broncos defense as overrated, telling Coach McKenzie and the offensive players, “If you don’t hang thirty on them, you suck.” He has stronger words for his defense, feeling extremely confident against a Trevor Siemian-led offense, saying, “Every point you give up translates to ten minutes of suicides next Tuesday. Every turnover takes five minutes off.” Meanwhile, the television in Schneider’s office remains on all day as the London story circles the league. The Knights eventually release an official statement denying any interest in moving, remaining committed to their fans in Los Angeles, etc. Schneider even does a phone interview with a local radio station where he rambles about his L.A. roots and what it meant for him to bring NFL football to his home city. It’s enough to deflect any momentum from the story, but London is now a topic of discussion around the league, something Schneider wanted to avoid for another few months. There’s still plenty of tension in the building, assuaged by a full schedule of coaches meetings, where the 8-0 Knights leave little room to complain. Phillips, however, enjoys the tension, going about his business and counting the days until Friday, when he takes an alternate route home, parking his car under the I-10/I-110 interchange. A quiet spot in the middle of chaos, he usually comes here during stressful times in the front office or after tough losses. He spent an hour here the night Daniel got fired, just sitting, thinking. Tonight, this is a place for business, not rumination. Javad’s car pulls up a few minutes later, right on schedule. Phillips takes the folded piece of paper out of his pocket as Javad opens the passenger-side door. “This is a little sketchy, isn’t it?” Javad says, sitting down. “We could have picked a bar somewhere, but I suspect that would gather a little too much attention. Here.” Javad unfolds the papers, realizing there are two of them, and sees a sprawl of typewritten paragraphs, organized by heading. He reads every word. “Questions?” Phillips asks. “Several.” Javad looks up. “Schneider’s an L.A. native. He bought the Raiders specifically to bring football back to his hometown. Why move?” “Wayne Schneider is a businessman, first and foremost. Always has been. With another franchise headed this way, maybe he sees a better business opportunity in London than sharing income in L.A.” “We don’t even know if the Chargers or Rams are headed here, though. Why jump the gun?” “Think of it this way. Good businesses embrace trends; great businesses get out in front of them. From Schneider’s perspective, if London is so appealing, why wait?” Javad nods. That answers one of his big questions; now onto the other one. “What’s your angle on this, Chance? Trying to burn the guy publicly or just get some leverage? Because you know once this gets published, you’re out.” “I understand.” “Not just from the Knights. This story doesn’t have traction if it’s anonymous; it has to have your name on it. That means this is your resignation from the entire league.” “I want to see what you come up with first, how you would present it. Whatever the case, this is bad press for the league in a year where ratings are down. That makes it a big story. I tried to be concise, but if you want me to elaborate on anything, just ask.” Javad nods, realizing that’s his cue to get out of the car. He does so, freezing before shutting the passenger-side door. “Tell me something.” Phillips looks up. “My story on the Maverick trade. Was I right?” Javad knows he was; he just wants to hear Phillips say it. “Yes, you were. It was Philly.” Javad looks satisfied. Phillips decides not to tell him he abandoned the trade at the last minute, knowing it would sound suspicious. Javad shows half a grin before closing the door and getting back in his car. Both men drive away. When both teams take the field Sunday, the rumors of London linger in the air among fans. But for the players, all is forgotten once the game starts. CBS captures one shot of a Knights fan holding a “STAY IN L.A.” sign, prompting the commentators to briefly discuss the matter before moving on. London becomes an afterthought in the face of the Knights’ domination. McKenzie dials up a wave of screens and quick passes, neutralizing the Broncos’ ferocious pass rush. Maverick displays remarkable touch on his passes, leading two well-executed scoring drives that result in a Harper touchdown catch and McCabe field goal, putting the Knights up 10-0 after one quarter. The defense does its part as well, stacking the box and shutting down the run game, forcing Trevor Siemian to beat the Knights with his arm, something he cannot do. Harden screams at the top of his lungs after allowing a field goal, but the offense goes down the field again. Jameson adds a touchdown on the ground, and the Knights take a comfortable 17-3 lead into halftime. The Broncos make adjustments on defense, and first downs are harder to get. Still, the Knights remain patient and don’t turn the ball over. With a dominant defensive effort behind them, field position tilts in their favor, and Bishop finds the end zone near the end of the third quarter. On the ensuing Broncos drive, Flash intercepts a Siemian pass to set up the Knights in field goal range. A few plays later, Jameson powers through for another touchdown, and it’s all over. Players return to the sideline after each score feeling what they’ve felt all season: a new energy from the fans. The coaches have felt it, too. The celebrations are louder, the boos are more vicious. Farmers Field is a bigger home-field advantage than it has ever been for the Knights. In their executive suite, the latest touchdown brings Phillips and Schneider to their feet, clapping and cheering. They remain standing after the extra point goes through, along with much of the stadium. “What a crowd,” Phillips says, hoping for a reaction. Schneider looks stoic. “These are people living paycheck to paycheck to rebuild their homes, but they spend hundreds of dollars to come here and watch a football game.” “Indeed,” Schneider says flatly, knowing what card Phillips is playing and wanting no part of it. Schneider walks away, leaving Phillips to enjoy the final minutes of a decisive victory. 8 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Sarge+ 3,436 Posted March 10, 2017 Honestly, I don't even know what to say... This is by far the best KoA chapter ever. Hands down, no recency bias. For so many reasons that I can't even start listing them right now. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
RazorStar 4,025 Posted March 10, 2017 This was a great chapter, Chance is laying down the law, don't fuck with your fans and your city will love you for it. Rooting for things to not go Schneider's way, but we all know they're gonna be the London Knights next season. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Sarge+ 3,436 Posted March 10, 2017 At this point Chance clearly gives no shits at all. During that porch scene with Harden, he made a decision... then proceeded to deliver the biggest "fuck you" to Schneider we've ever seen between any two characters. Schneider might be shook beyond repair. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Thanatos 2,847 Posted March 10, 2017 (edited) This. is. AWESOME. Easily best chapter in the series, holy shit. SteVo you should seriously consider writing a book after this is over. Not on this, come up with something original. Edited March 10, 2017 by Thanatos 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Vin+ 3,121 Posted March 10, 2017 Team gonna move to London but none of the players are. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
SteVo+ 3,702 Posted March 11, 2017 (edited) You guys are too kind, much too kind. And Thanatos, I did write a book a few years ago. After KoA is over I plan on writing another, though I think I'd like to branch out from the sports world for it. Haven't decided on a story yet. Edited March 11, 2017 by SteVo Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
SteVo+ 3,702 Posted March 15, 2017 Hump Day Bump Day Thank you all again for the kind praise. I hope this Friday is a worthy follow-up. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Zack_of_Steel+ 3,014 Posted July 6, 2017 (edited) I was floored by this chapter, Stevo. What a great chapter to come back on. Sorry I have been too busy to stay caught up through the conclusion, but I'm glad I still have so much left to enjoy. “I still think the earthquake thing is bullshit—”“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” ^That shit had me rolling-The Javad/Phillips storyline is rounding out nicely. I loved their interaction in the car. Edited July 6, 2017 by Zack_of_Steel Share this post Link to post Share on other sites