SteVo+ 3,702 Posted April 28, 2017 | | | | Knights of Andreas Part VI Chapter Seventy-Seven – Western Wind, Eastern Sun Patriots 35, Steelers 31, 1:33 to go. Ben Roethlisberger leads a potential game-winning drive as the final seconds tick from a thrilling AFC Divisional game. The commentary of Jim Nantz and Phil Simms fills living rooms and sports bars across the country, including the homes of the Los Angeles Knights, about to learn their next opponent. “Roethlisberger, back to pass, throws for Brown, and he’s got him. Good for another first down, just past midfield.” Inside his house, Randall and Grantzinger study Pittsburgh’s offense in detail as they have with both teams all night. Grantzinger: “They’re still blocking straight across. No doubles or shifts like they did against us.” Randall: “That’s because New England doesn’t have an elite pass rusher.” Grantzinger: “We gotta look at their Baltimore film, figure out how the blocking was different.” “Roethlisberger dumps it off. It’s Bell, on a screen. He’s got blockers! Across the forty, jukes a defender, and he’s down around the thirty-two! Another electrifying play by Le’Veon Bell! And the Steelers are within striking distance as the clock is near a minute now.” Harden shifts uncomfortably in his recliner, shuffling his feet and accidentally kicking Bowser, who gets up, spins around about five times, and lays down again. He doesn’t know it, but Harden has been thinking the same thing most of his defensive subordinates have: if the Steelers win, scheming against the Bell/Brown combination again won’t be fun. “Roethlisberger, deep drop, looking, throws for the end zone…intercepted! Malcolm Butler! It’s picked off in the end zone, and New England’s gonna win the football game! The Steelers have only one timeout, so the Patriots can run out the clock and punch their ticket to the AFC Championship!” Maverick, who has been taking notes on both defenses, throws his notepad and pen across the room and rises from the couch. “Alright then,” he says to the empty mansion. “Bring it on, Brady.” Wilkes watches the Patriots celebrate, as he has all night, under the supervision of team doctors. In the morning, they will report that Wilkes asked, “Who won the game?” multiple times after Brady took the final kneeldown. Knights coaches assemble, most of them arriving at the MedComm Center early, to plan for football season’s penultimate weekend (the Pro Bowl notwithstanding). The NFC Championship Game, which pits the Seahawks against the heavily favored Cowboys, doesn’t come close to matching the buzz surrounding the Knights/Patriots showdown. Three years ago, the Knights beat the Patriots on a snowy night in Foxborough, a win many considered symbolic of a power shift in the AFC. The Knights went on to win the conference two consecutive years, while the Patriots haven’t been to the Super Bowl since. Adding to the intrigue, of course, is the Knights’ pursuit of 19-0, a legendary record the Patriots themselves fell one win short of nine years ago. If the Knights are to fall short as well, it would only be fitting that the Patriots be the ones to knock them out. And on the heels of a dominant season and 17-1 record, they have a good chance to do so. Either way, the fan and media consensus is that the de facto Super Bowl takes place at Farmers Field this Sunday night. The Patriots and Knights are the two best teams in the league, and whoever wins should lift the Lombardi Trophy. After the coaching staff finalizes the week’s schedule, they split into three groups. One of the two larger groups, Harden and the defensive coaches, fill their usual meeting room, armed with film of every Patriots game this season, a large white board, and plenty of markers. “It all starts with 12, as we all know,” Harden says, referring to a quarterback some consider to be the greatest of all-time. “And my position on him hasn’t changed in ten years: we’ve got to pressure him up the middle. We can send pressure on the outside all we want, and all he’s gonna do is step up and find guys over the middle. All those little four-, five-yard passes, he’ll nickel and dime us right into the offseason.” “What’s the story with the hybrid?” the defensive line coach asks. “Brady’s smart enough to figure it out, but we should make him work for it anyway. Plan on a fifty-fifty split, or something close.” Ripka nervously pipes up, saying, “Sounds like this will be a bend-don’t-break scheme in the secondary, coach.” Harden looks at Ripka, resisting the instinctual urge to throw a marker at him. Ripka knows Harden distains the bend-don’t-break concept behind playing defense. He remembers Harden saying once, as defensive coordinator, “Don’t break and don’t bend; play fucking defense and stop them.” In this case, though, the Knights will have to be realistic about containing the Patriots offense. “Looks that way,” Harden eventually says. “It’ll probably come down to the red zone, I guess.” “What about Gronk?” Ripka asks. “Briggs has him,” Harden says firmly. “He’s shut down every tight end he’s faced this year.” “Shouldn’t we draw up some other coverages as a back-up?” “Sure. We can get Malik to—” Everyone in the room freezes as Harden catches himself. Malik Rose once proved a formidable opponent for Rob Gronkowski in coverage, but he no longer wears a Knights uniform. “Sorry, men,” Harden says. “Keep thinking about two years ago, and we had him then. Put Flash on it.” Coaches nod in agreement, waiting for an uncomfortable silence to end. Once Harden speaks again, they work on the tedious task of analyzing coverage matchups across various formations. In the next room over, the offensive staff is ready to build a game plan of their own, but McKenzie holds everything up, something to address first. “Before we get going,” McKenzie says once everyone is seated, “I asked Dr. Evans to stop by, for obvious reasons.” The coaches sit idly, knowing they would be unable to begin without an updated prognosis anyway. It only takes a minute for Evans to appear, stepping through the doorway and looking around the table before focusing on McKenzie. “What’s the word, doc?” McKenzie asks. Every coach leans forward, knowing their entire game plan for New England is about to go one of two ways. “Well, it’s early,” Evans says. “He’s still extremely foggy, still some memory lapses.” “Doc,” McKenzie says, “we’ve been through this routine before. Get to the meat and potatoes.” “It’s not good. As I said, he’s got time to improve, but he sustained a pretty serious concussion. Even without league protocols, I’m not optimistic he’s ready to play in six days. In fact…” Evans pauses. The coaches listen closely. “I’ll put it this way. If it were December, and the team was out of the playoffs, I would make a formal recommendation that he be shut down the remainder of the year.” A blistering silence covers the table as McKenzie swallows, hard, and decides rather easily he’s heard enough. “Okay, doc, thanks for the update.” Evans nods and disappears. The coaches gather their thoughts for a minute, well aware they now have to beat the Patriots without their greatest offensive weapon. By the second day of practice, any unknowns about the game plan have been explored and solved. The remaining practice time will be used improving a scheme that may need to be perfect for the Knights to win. The team is all business this week, respecting the challenge that lies ahead. Even Schwinn has been extremely light on jokes and locker room pranks. It’s been like this since Coach Harden’s introductory address yesterday morning, and it won’t change until after Sunday. Maverick, in particular, has been putting in more hours than usual, figuring the offense will need it if Wilkes can’t suit up. Fans like to say the playoffs are times when typically average players become great and win games. Maverick feels that way about his receiving corps; he has a group of good receivers, but one of them will need to have a great game against New England. Wilkes doesn’t get to see the practice field, stuck instead inside the building, where doctors and trainers perform test after test, having him follow their finger and bullshit like that. Wilkes feels miles better today except for a bad headache, but he’s sure as hell not going to tell them that. “Man, why can’t I get the playbook at least?” he asks the doctor shining a light in his eyes. “You need cognitive rest.” “Man, whatever that mean.” At the very least, the dazed and despondent Wilkes has been replaced with his usual, bitchy self, a good sign to the doctors who know him well. The doctor finishes, walks away to speak with the league’s doctor, and Wilkes’ phone buzzes on a nearby table. “You need to limit your electronic use.” “Man, I can’t do nothin’ but scratch my balls without y’all being pissed!” Wilkes grabs the phone anyway, answering the incoming call. “What?” “Hello, Da’Jamiroquai,” a familiar voice says, “how are you?” “Kinda busy, Uncle Linc.” “I’m sure you are. Feeling better?” “Yeah, but the doctors keep making up reasons to keep me off the field. Man, stop flashing that thing in my eyes! You gotta tell me first! Sorry. Like I said, I’m kinda busy. What you want?” “You sound surprised I’m calling.” “You don’t just call to check up on me.” “Now, Da’Jamiroquai, that’s not fair. I’m not—” “Hey, I’ll check you later, Uncle Linc. I gotta go.” Wilkes ends the call and pockets his phone, resigned to more time with the doctors. The hope of running routes on the practice field grass keeps him from having a nervous breakdown. The team, meanwhile, runs through and finishes practice with no sign of Wilkes, and the popular sentiment is that the league’s concussion protocol will make it nearly impossible for him to play—even if his symptoms improve. Good news comes at day’s end when the league announces the finalists for the Walter Payton Man of the Year Award, and Sam Luck is among them. Luck’s charity work, particularly as part of recovery from the 9/9 earthquake, makes him a strong contender. The Knights figure to clean up at the NFL Honors ceremony in a few weeks, but they will be hollow victories without an AFC Championship. The parking lots open at eleven and are nearly full by noon, fans decked in black and purple firing up grills and TV sets, tossing footballs and drinking beers. This is Farmers Field’s last home game no matter what, so Knights fans are going to enjoy it. Everyone with a TV, of course, follows the NFC Championship in Dallas. Inside the stadium, players of both teams do the same, glancing up at the scoreboard while they’re on the field warming up. The Seahawks jump out to an early 14-0 lead, but by one thirty, when the gates open and fans begin filling the Farmers Field concourses, Dallas has closed the gap, and the game goes to halftime with Seattle up, 17-14. The majority of tailgaters have moved into the stadium by three, at which point the Knights are finished with warm-ups, nothing to do but count nervously to kickoff. In Dallas, a big third quarter has put the Cowboys ahead 28-17, and they are poised for their first Super Bowl appearance in two decades. Two years ago, the Knights were in this very spot, waiting on the Seahawks/Packers game, expecting to hear news of a rematch with Seattle, but the Packers won. Today, the Knights are expecting, should they win, a matchup with Dallas. Instead, Russell Wilson leads a dramatic comeback, the Seahawks win, 31-28, and the Knights are set for the Seattle rematch they wanted two years ago. Reynolds sends the opening kickoff out of the end zone, and the man with four Super Bowl rings leads his offense onto the field. The Patriots line up with three receivers and two tight ends, no one in the backfield with Brady. The Knights line up in their 3-4 base. Brady takes the snap and fires, hitting Danny Amendola in the slot. Green grass around him, Amendola surges ahead for an eight-yard gain. On second down, Brady fires another quick strike to Gronkowski, and this strategy dominates the opening drive, with the Patriots showing no desire to run the ball. They reach midfield, but a third-down blitz by Randall forces Brady to throw it away, and the Patriots punt. The Knights get their turn, also leaning on multi-receiver formations, though their best wide receiver will not play tonight. McKenzie has every possible combination prepared for tonight’s playbook, including some double-TE sets. Maverick works his receivers on short routes, trying to feel out New England’s corners. He knows the toughest among them is Malcolm Butler, lining up to his right, so he expects plenty of throws to his left (whichever receiver is there) and over the top, so long as he stays away from Devin McCourty. Like the Patriots, the Knights chip away for a few first downs before punting. Brady takes over from his own twenty and strikes on three big gains that each net a first down. With no apparent pass rush and no coverage over the middle, the Knights defense is on its heels. This has been a weakness in Harden’s play-calling for years. Harden almost never deviates from his base defense on first or second down, refusing to put extra defensive backs on the field. This leaves plenty of space in the seam for slot receivers and tight ends. It is no surprise that a Bill Belichick-coached team has come out and exploited this right away. An inside blitz catches New England off guard and Martin notches the game’s first sack, taking the Patriots out of field goal range. Then, on third and nine, James White escapes into the flat, where he beats Brock in coverage. Brady floats a perfect pass, and the Patriots are in the red zone. Patriot receivers find less room to get open, and Grantzinger finally gets some pressure on Brady. A couple incompletions bring out Stephen Gostkowski, who puts in a chip shot field goal, and it’s 3-0, Patriots. After a touchback, Maverick lines up in shotgun and finds Bishop over the middle for five yards. Next, he looks left for Harper, but Eric Rowe swats away a back-shoulder fade. Third and five. Maverick drops back and throws right as Watson breaks on an out route. Watson extends for the pass, catches it, and brings it back to his chest. The ball squirts loose and hits the ground. The offense retreats to the bench, and the crowd serenades them with boos. Los Angeles fans will be neither gracious nor forgiving tonight. The Knights have had more than their share of slow starts this season, and fans are sick of it. Last week, though, the Knights were always going to have time to score points against the Chiefs. Tonight, the Patriots are capable of turning this into a rout if the Knights don’t wake up. While McKenzie tries to find a catalyst, Brady gets back to work, still leaning on a heavy dose of Danny Amendola, who is open nearly every play. The Patriots move the ball without facing a third down before reaching the red zone. Ripka makes sure Harden picks formations that have Amendola covered, and the Patriots respond by running the ball. LeGarrette Blount takes two carries up the middle for eight yards, bringing up third and two. Knights fans come to their feet, desperate for a stop. Harden calls a four-man rush against a shotgun formation. Brady takes the snap and scans, looking for Gronkowski, but Randall has him covered. Brady looks like he’s about to tuck it and run, but Julian Edelman breaks from Lucas, getting slight separation, and Brady’s pass is perfect. Touchdown, Patriots. After Gronkowski’s extra point and an uneventful kickoff, the quarter ends, leaving Farmers Field in an uncomfortable commercial break with the Knights trailing, 10-0. Maverick drops back behind another clean pocket, waits for Bishop to break on a comeback route, and hits him between the numbers. The first down puts the Knights across midfield. Maverick is thankful his pass protection has been solid tonight, otherwise the Knights might not gain a yard. Belichick will adjust, though, and Maverick will face pressure eventually. When he does, they’ll need to have something ready. In the meantime, McKenzie keeps calling short passes, consciously spreading the ball around. It still remains to be seen which receiver will become tonight’s hero, if anyone, but it doesn’t appear to be Watson, who is barely getting separation on his routes. The Knights soon face third and five, and Maverick drops back, surprised by a blitz. The pressure forces him to roll left, where only one receiver is in sight: Johnson, open, but McCourty is ready to jump the route, so Maverick throws it away. McKenzie digs through the playbook again and Maverick takes his seat on the bench, scanning fresh pictures. He doesn’t look up to see McCabe’s forty-five yard kick clear the crossbar by inches, but the stadium’s celebration tells him it’s good. “Look at this,” Maverick says as McKenzie sits next to him. “They’re playing zone on one side of the field and man on the other. I’ve never seen New England running that.” “They’ve never done anything like that this year,” McKenzie says, film footage from the Patriots’ season playing in his head. “But we have to crack it, and we can’t wait until halftime.” “I know. We gotta spread them out somehow.” Maverick and the coaches bounce ideas around while the Knights defense endures another long drive. One short pass after another, Brady chips away at the Knights defense, making it look easy and draining the stadium’s energy with each pass. Many fans expected an electrifying quarterback duel out of this game, and rightfully so; Brady and Maverick are known for making some of the most ridiculous throws a quarterback can make. But tonight, they are tempered and surgical. This game will be a war of small battles, and right now, the Patriots are winning plenty of small battles. Blount punches through on third and one, setting up first and goal at the nine with under four minutes left in the half. Brady finds Amendola again, and Schwinn brings him down for a five-yard gain. Second and goal. Brady fakes a handoff and fires for Malcolm Mitchell, but Stone has him covered. Third and goal. Knights fans come to their feet again as Harden calls a blitz, something Ripka uselessly cautions against. Brady takes the snap. Grantzinger gets doubled again, opening holes for Randall and Martin. Brady has only a second, but Gronkowski is wide open in the end zone. He fires, and Gronkowski extends for the pass. The outstretched arms of Flash get in the way, and the ball bounces out of bounds. The Knights sideline gets fired up for the first time tonight. Even though Gostkowski makes the chip shot, extending New England’s lead to 13-3, defenders get plenty of encouragement when they return to the sideline. “Big stop, D!” Maverick says, leading the charge. “That’s a huge stop! Our turn to get in the end zone now.” Armed with subtle adjustments, the Knights offense takes over with 2:20 on the clock. Though they stick to their quick-pass strategy, Maverick operates the no-huddle, in two-minute mode, and this seems to help. Maverick throws over the middle and to his left, avoiding Malcolm Butler. Harper and Johnson find open space and keep the drive going. The two-minute warning and one timeout later, the Knights are on the edge of field goal range. With a minute to go, Maverick drops back and tracks Bishop, covered over the middle. He looks deep for Harper, sets his feet, and bombs it. He knows it’s a mistake as soon as he lets it go. Rowe runs a step behind Harper, but McCourty is already tracking the ball like a punt. He and Harper converge at the goal line and collide as the ball bounces off a helmet. McCourty falls. Harper stumbles, finding the ball in midair and grabbing it as he lands on the purple grass. Maverick lets out a sigh of relief as Farmers Field roars. Though grateful for the good fortune, that’s a throw he can’t make. He looks to the sideline, almost instinctively expecting to see the coaches holding up two fingers, but Wilkes’ absence changes things, and McKenzie sticks with the decision he made this week in practice: kick the extra point. The offense rests on the sideline while McCabe makes the kick. With only 0:54 on the clock, the Patriots try to put something together, but the Knights have the sidelines covered, and the clock runs out. Both teams head to the locker room with the Patriots up, 13-10. Halftime takes forever to Knights fans around the stadium. Tension, worry, and optimism all build up over a twenty-minute period, and everything explodes when Maverick finds Harper on the second half’s first play, downfield for a thirty-yard gain. Maverick hands off to NesSmith, accelerating up the gut for eight yards. The Knights hurry the pace to a quick huddle, mixing the play-calling, and Maverick finds his rhythm. Consecutive strikes to Johnson put the Knights on the edge of the red zone. Maverick drops back, tracking Harper, running against Butler. He stares him down and sees a safety shade that way, then fires over the middle for Bishop, who makes a leaping grab in traffic as he crosses the goal line, coming down with the ball secured. With the Knights’ first lead of the night putting Farmers Field in an uproar, Maverick jogs back to the sideline and high-fives the entire offensive coaching staff before gazing across the field. Your move, Brady. Harden keeps calling plays under the bend-don’t-break mandate, and Brady keeps making it work. The halftime decision to bump Amendola at the line of scrimmage doesn’t appear to help. Brady sees nothing but clean pockets, something Harden can’t stand. They’re doubling Grantzinger, of course, but nobody else can beat New England’s offensive line. Another effortlessly efficient Patriots drive reaches the red zone, culminating in third and two. Officials hold up play to talk about the spot, letting Harden consider his call. “Let’s bring the house,” he says. “I wouldn’t, Merle,” Ripka says. “We gotta get this fuckin’ guy out of his comfort zone, whatever it takes.” Harden calls the all-out blitz, having his defense line up in 4-3. Brady lines up under center and calls out adjustments. Randall flips everyone to a 3-4, and Brady backs into shotgun, taking the snap as the entire front seven converges. Brady sets his feet and fires into the flat, where James White is wide open. He gets the first down easily. Flash has him lined up, but Gronkowski crushes him with a block he doesn’t see coming, and White waltzes into the end zone. Fans take a breath, grateful for the between-action minutes now, with the Patriots up, 20-17. Maverick starts the drive with a deep shot again, this time for Watson on play-action. Watson can’t corral the pass, but the Patriots defense has gotten the message and spreads out accordingly. This opens up the run game, mixed with some simple pitch-and-catch, and the Knights find rhythm again. The guard tandem of Grodd and Dunn doesn’t let a white jersey behind them, but Penner isn’t getting as much push as usual. McKenzie hears that from upstairs and ignores it for now. Into field goal range, Maverick hands off on third and one to Banks, who dives up the middle into a wall of Patriots, stuffed for no gain. After blocking for McCabe’s field goal, which slides through and ties the game, Grodd and Penner sip some water on the bench. “Hey, you okay?” Grodd asks. “What?” Penner says between sips. “Third and one is usually bread and butter for us.” “Just my damn back, tightening up again.” “Hey,” Maverick says, joining the conversation. “We all good over here?” “Why are you assholes babysitting me?” Penner says. “Worry about your job and I’ll worry about mine.” “Alright, alright. Just hang in there, yeah?” “I’m hangin’.” Brady slings a few passes downfield before whistles blow, the third quarter over. Harden glances up at the scoreboard multiple times as if somehow, he’ll look again, and the score won’t be tied. “Of course,” he says to no one in particular. “Of course this one’s a goddamn heart attack.” “Would you have it any other way?” Ripka says. “Yeah, a forty-point blowout would have been nice.” Brady keeps connecting, with Edelman becoming the feature of the offense. Harden sends blitz after blitz, but Brady finds his quick read every time. Ripka considers saying something at the next stoppage. On third and eight near midfield, Brady drops back against an inside blitz. He lofts one over the middle for Gronkowski, who catches it before Flash hits him. Gronkowski’s momentum and superior physicality carry them both forward for another first down. “Dammit, Flash,” Harden says, taking a few steps onto the field. “Be physical! TACKLE!” Harden steps back onto the sideline and calls the next play between coughs. His focus fades, conscious of his heartbeat, and he marches toward the Gatorade coolers for some water. He gulps down a cup and leans against the table, slowing his breathing. “You okay?” Harden looks up at McKenzie, who looks relaxed, not wanting to make a big deal of anything, but Harden can tell he’s worried. “Fine,” Harden says, feeling his heart slow down. “Fine.” He pitches the cup and returns to the edge of the sideline in time to see Blount stiff-arm Brock en route to a nine-yard run. Brady tries a quick throw to Edelman, but Lucas finally makes a play and deflects the pass. Third and one. Brady throws for White in the flat, but Grantzinger jumps off his block to swat it down. Fourth and one. Harden wonders if Belichick will try a sixty-yard kick, but Brady hurries everyone to the line. Randall gets everyone in place on defense. Harden hesitates, wary of burning a timeout. Brady takes the snap under center. Randall and Martin, who have both seen this on film before, jump the snap and surge up the middle, stopping Brady’s sneak in place. Randall breaks free of his lineman and leaps over the pile, dragging Brady backwards for a loss of downs. The Knights offense runs onto the field, in position to take the lead with 11:25 on the clock. McKenzie leans on what has worked, and Maverick moves the chains despite increased pass rush by New England. Maverick takes the snap on a designed rollout and runs right. White jerseys run in front of all deep routes, so he dumps it off to Watson, surprised by the bullet pass. He falls forward, getting a first down and putting the Knights on the edge of field goal range. The drive continues with Maverick gaining yards in small chunks, taking plenty of hits in the process. With the clock looming, everyone in the stadium looks up after each play. Harper catches a slant for ten yards. 8:30, 8:29… Johnson catches a quick pass with a screen in front of him, running out of bounds after five yards. 7:48. Two plays later, Bishop hauls in a catch in traffic for another first down. 5:41, 5:40… When the clock hits the five-minute mark, the Knights are on the Patriots’ twenty-yard line. While McCabe practices kick after kick on the sideline, McKenzie searches for a red-zone touchdown without Wilkes. He uses the run game, at first, which gets eight yards in two plays, bringing up third and two. Knights fans come to their feet but temper noise as Maverick lines up in shotgun with NesSmith and Bishop beside him. 3:28, 3:27… Maverick takes the snap and fakes a handoff to NesSmith while Bishop runs into the flat for a developing screen. Maverick sells the handoff, spins back to the right side of the field, and Dont’a Hightower drills him. Before he can brace himself, Maverick gets driven into the ground shoulder first, extending his left hand for Penner to pull him up. “That one hurt,” Maverick admits on his way to the sideline. “Need a Band-Aid?” Penner asks. “Not exactly my strong shoulder.” Maverick and the rest of the offense stop on the edge of the sideline to watch McCabe’s thirty-three-yard kick, which hooks left from the right hash, through the uprights. Knights 23, Patriots 20, 2:40 on the clock. “Alright, men,” Harden says to as many defensive players as he can, “this is our drive. We’ve forced a punt on these assholes a few times tonight. We do it one more time, and we’re going to the Super Bowl. Let’s get it done.” Brady takes the field again, and the Knights line up in a 4-3, which Harden will stick with the entire drive. After a two-yard pass to Edelman, Luck swats down a pass at the line of scrimmage, and it’s third and eight. Harden has his corners jam their receivers, and Brady drops back under pressure. He tries to escape right, but Grantzinger is there to bring him down. Seven-yard loss, fourth and fifteen. Farmers Field goes crazy as the Patriots hurry to the line. Brady apparently has a play ready and wants to run it before the two-minute warning. “Go after him, Merle?” Ripka yells over the crowd noise. “No,” Harden says. “We’re just gonna sit back and pick him off.” Randall gets everyone in position for a four-man rush as Brady takes the snap, looks left, and floats a throw for Amendola, who gets behind Martin and catches it in stride. He runs through a hole in coverage, perfectly between Lucas and Flash, sprinting ahead well past the first-down marker before Flash brings him down. The twenty-five-yard gain silences the crowd as officials stop play with 1:56 on the clock. Harden and the Knights defense get a commercial break to catch their breath, and to deal with the fact that the Patriots just made a game-saving conversion look routine. When play resumes, the Patriots leave no doubt that they’ve seized momentum. Brady effortlessly finds receivers, executing the drive with masterful clock management. The Knights offense, which had been preparing for a potential game-winning drive, now watches with their arms crossed, knowing the game is either going to overtime or ending on this drive. The Knights secondary keeps things contained so Brady can’t take an end-zone shot. The Patriots still get first downs, but the clock runs, and the Patriots use two of their timeouts before reaching the red zone. Consecutive incompletions bring up third and ten from the Knights’ eighteen, 0:13 on the clock. Farmers Field is as loud as it has been all night. Brady and Randall shout adjustments with the play clock running low. Brady takes the snap as Randall blitzes through an opening, forcing Brady to hurry a lob to the end zone. Fans watch an open Gronkowski reach the goal line, slow down for the underthrown pass, and reach for it. A leaping Grantzinger gets a hand on it, and it bounces out of bounds. Players from both sidelines rise and clamor for a view of Stephen Gostkowski, lining up for an essential chip shot. Harden watches the field goal unit set up, knowing that if just one of them can get a hand on this thing, it’s all over. The ball is snapped and spotted. A wall of black jerseys surges forward and leaps as Gostkowski kicks the ball, which sails over their outstretched arms and through the goal posts. Knights 23, Patriots 23, a meaningless 0:07 on the clock. Maverick and the captains watch the coin flip through the air before bouncing on the grass. Everyone leans in to see which side landed face-up. “It is tails,” the referee announces. “New England, you have won the toss.” The Patriots elect to receive, and the Knights defend with the wind in their favor. Both teams return to their sideline aware of the rules. A touchdown on overtime’s first drive, and the Knights will never get the ball back. Reynolds’ kick sails beyond the end zone, and out comes Brady, seventy-five yards from ending the Knights’ season. The Patriots run a few quiet plays, simple handoffs and quick throws, temporarily numbing fans to the high stakes of overtime. Then Brady fires a dart over the middle to Gronkowski, ten yards from midfield. Brady drops back again. Grantzinger almost breaks through, forcing Brady to shift left before throwing for Amendola. In the middle of the field, Martin jumps the route and dives for the football, feeling it hit his hands as he smacks against the grass. He rolls onto his back, holding the football against his chest and feeling multiple arms grabbing him. Two are Amendola to officially end the play; the rest are teammates, dragging Martin to his feet before mobbing him in celebration for the interception. Maverick sprints off the bench and onto the field, celebrating with the defense and waiting for the offensive huddle to form around him. He looks down to the end zone, fifty yards away. Despite the energy around the stadium, McKenzie starts with simple calls. Banks takes a carry up the middle for three yards, then Maverick hits Johnson on a quick out route. Johnson runs out of bounds, and it’s third and one. McKenzie has his play ready. The Patriots crowd the line of scrimmage. Maverick lines up under center with Bishop and Banks behind him. He takes the snap. Banks runs forward with Bishop blocking ahead of him and collides with defenders at the line of scrimmage. Suddenly, multiple black jerseys dive toward a random spot three yards away. Patriots react to the apparent fumble with confusion all over the field, except for the two New England safeties, the only defenders with eyes on the football. Maverick sprints down the sideline, no one around him, eyes on the pylon forty yards away. Fans eventually realize he has the ball and come to their feet screaming. McCourty closes on him as Maverick makes each stride as long as he can. Ten yards away, Maverick secures the ball with both hands, ready to dive. McCourty hits him just after he leaves his feet, and he flies through the air, landing and sliding out of bounds, next to the end zone. Maverick looks back at the official, who waves his arms and stands at the two-yard line, indicating the spot. Maverick gets up and gathers the celebrating players into a huddle, assuming Coach Harden won’t kick a field goal yet. Before calling a play, McKenzie walks down towards Harden and says, “I’ve got a play, unless you want to kick it.” “Fuck the field goal,” Harden says. “Punch it in, Mac.” McKenzie calls his favorite formation, the I-Form 3-WR with Bishop at fullback. Maverick lines up under center with the play clock low and motions Bishop right. He takes the snap and fakes a toss to NesSmith as the defense shifts right, then hands off to Bishop, cutting back across the field. Bishop runs laterally to avoid a free rusher, then cuts back toward an opening. With defenders closing, he dives over the goal line. Touchdown, Knights. Game over. Fans go berserk, screaming and jumping in their seats. The stadium vibrates enough to make cognizant fans weary of an earthquake. Purple and white confetti falls from the sky as black jerseys storm the field. Maverick breaks free from the end zone celebration to find the other #12, spotting Brady and shaking his hand. “Great game, Mav,” Brady says. “Hey, you too,” Maverick says. “You guys made us earn it.” “You’re a great competitor. Good luck in two weeks.” “Thanks. See you next year.” Players and fans alike try to catch their breath, but the adrenaline rush carries into the post-game ceremony, which arrives quickly. The Knights accept the Lamar Hunt Trophy and celebrate a conference championship with their fans for the second time in three years. Two years ago, they were one win from a Super Bowl. Now, they’re one win from immortality. When the ceremony ends, season-ticket holders, first-timers, and everyone in between begin pouring out through all stadium exits. Chants of “Let’s go Knights” ring through the concourses as parking lots empty into downtown Los Angeles. Closing procedures commence for the tenth time this season, an added sense of finality to them. Farmers Field will be active over the next few months—it hosts a high school all-star football game in two weeks and two concerts in the spring—but it will not see the Knights again for over half a year. On the stadium’s interior, beneath the seats, players and coaches conduct interviews and press conferences before boarding buses that likewise take them out of the stadium. Gates close off concession stands. Stadium personnel collect wrappers, bottles, and other trash from the seats and hallways. Others patrol the field itself, cleaning off a layer of paper confetti. Some hours later, all procedures have concluded, and all stadium employees have left or are leaving. Those in charge of power supply are the last to go, getting the all-clear one last time before throwing the master switch, dousing the floodlights that tower over the stadium, and Farmers Field is dark. 5 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
RazorStar 4,025 Posted April 28, 2017 Ahhh yisss, Marlon Martin hero ball. Another stunning victory for the Knights, and now we can get revenge on those filthy sea chickens to wrap this all up. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Thanatos 2,847 Posted May 3, 2017 (edited) The Farmer's Field imagery is... ominous. But surely SteVo won't have us lose to the Seahawks twice in three years. Surely. Edited May 3, 2017 by Thanatos Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
SteVo+ 3,702 Posted May 3, 2017 (edited) The Farmer's Field imagery is... ominous. But surely SteVo won't have us lose to the Seahawks twice in three years. Surely. Whether or not you interpret the final passage as foreshadowing is up to the reader, but I will say that I originally conceived of the idea when I realized this was the final game at Farmers Field in KoA, so I wanted to write a short description of closing time to commemorate that. And don't call me Shirley. Edited May 3, 2017 by SteVo Share this post Link to post Share on other sites