SteVo+ 3,702 Posted May 12, 2017 | | | | Knights of Andreas Part VI Chapter Seventy-Nine – Super Bowl LI The Knights offense, instead of jogging onto the field, walks back to the bench, where a startled defense rushes into formation against a visibly confident Seahawks offense. Russell Wilson fires for Doug Baldwin, who runs through open space for eight yards. Thomas Rawls carries up the middle, running into Randall with enough momentum for a first down, already past midfield. Ripka fights off shock from the onside kick and sticks to the pre-determined set of plays for his defense’s first drive. He keeps waiting for Harden to add some commentary or make a suggestion or say anything at all, but he doesn’t. Another pass to Baldwin and one to Jimmy Graham get the Seahawks another first down, and Ripka realizes Wilson is getting the ball out too fast to make his blitzes effective. The Seahawks march toward the end zone with a mix of quick passes and Rawls in the run game. When they reach the red zone, Knights defenders have their arms on their hips between plays, gasping for air. Rawls tries to cut outside and meets Luck, wrangled down for a one-yard gain. Then Wilson drops back to pass, and Grantzinger breaks through. Wilson rolls out towards Brock and throws it away, bringing up third and nine from the eighteen-yard line. Wilson lines up in shotgun as Randall gets defenders in place, deciding to blitz. Wilson takes the snap and lobs it over the middle for Graham. The pass sails over Grantzinger’s arms and Graham runs for the end zone. Flash levels him at the goal line, but Graham hangs on to the ball. The bipartisan Houston crowd cheers for Super Bowl LI’s first score, and the surprise of it. The underdog Seahawks have done exactly what many pundits said they needed to do: come out swinging and seize momentum. Harden prowls along the sideline, not sensing any panic around him. It’s far too early, and everyone wearing purple should know it. With McKenzie’s offensive plan in mind, he glances up at the scoreboard, showing a 7-0 score after the extra point, then across the field to Coach Carroll, whose onside kick decision, Harden feels, was undeniably great. Okay Pete, we’ve seen how big your balls are. Now have a look at mine. Hauschka boots the kick downfield this time, into the end zone for a touchback. Maverick sets up shop at the twenty-five and Wilkes jogs toward the formation’s right side, staring Richard Sherman down with a gleaming smile. Maverick takes the snap, and Wilkes runs a comeback route as the ball comes flying in. He feels Sherman hit him before the ball gets there, but he catches it anyway, forcibly dragged down. “Fuck you, bitch,” Wilkes says to Sherman as he tosses the ball to the nearest ref. Sherman chirps back as Wilkes casually gets in formation. Sherman and some of the Seahawk defenders don’t realize the Knights are already lined up. Penner snaps it. Wilkes takes off, getting behind a surprised and out-of-position Sherman. Maverick’s pass is on target again. Wilkes snags it as Sherman dives for his feet, and the Knights hurry to formation. Maverick looks left this time, where Harper is open along the sidelines. Maverick hits him in stride, and Earl Thomas forces him out of bounds in Seattle territory. Maverick fires over the middle for Bishop, who sheds a tackle before Kam Chancellor brings him down. Maverick hits Johnson on a slant, running away from his man and diving for another first down. Maverick drops back, lets the blocking develop, and rolls right. He throws for Watson, open on the sideline, who catches it and stumbles forward a few extra yards. On the edge of the red zone, the Knights set up in shotgun, but Maverick decides on an adjustment this time. He switches Wilkes and Harper, and when Wilkes lines up to his left, Sherman doesn’t go with him. Maverick takes the snap and rolls left. Wilkes runs for the end zone and Thomas doubles him, just what Maverick wants. He looks back over the middle, where Bishop is open. He fires a dart that Bishop jumps to catch, absorbing a big hit from Chancellor and landing in the end zone. The crowd cheers and applauds again. Fans wondering how the Knights would answer Seattle’s six-minute, fifty-yard drive have gotten their answer: with a two-minute, seventy-five-yard drive of their own. Both field goal units stay on the sideline, and Maverick lines up under center with Wilkes isolated wide right against Sherman. Maverick calls his cadence and motions Johnson right just before taking the snap. Wilkes runs a slant, Sherman goes with him, and Johnson is wide open for an easy conversion. The Knights offense gets some much-needed water on the sideline, celebrating their 8-7 lead. Reynolds runs up for the kickoff and chips the ball laterally to his right. A few blue jerseys aren’t fooled, and at least four players are under the ball when it comes back to the field. It bounces backwards, hitting the grass before landing in the arms of backup linebacker Scott Sterling, and the Knights offense gets back on the field. Fans look up to the stadium’s big screens for a replay, many of them incredulous at the opening minutes of this game. Many Super Bowls have boring, uninspiring starts but build to an epic climax. In ten minutes, Super Bowl LI has already had two onside kicks and a two-point conversion. Maverick hands the ball off this time, and NesSmith runs through the middle for five yards. The Seahawks scurry to formation, ready for a hurry-up offense, but the Knights huddle up. “Sons of bitches are dead tired,” Penner says. “Got ‘em on their heels big time.” “Duly noted,” Maverick says, hearing McKenzie’s two play calls, one pass and one run. Maverick hands off again, and NesSmith finds more room, sliding through blockers for a first down. The drive continues, with NesSmith and Banks splitting carries every play. The Knights milk the play clock against a tired defense with McKenzie shuffling personnel and formations, never showing the same look twice. He enjoys having a firm upper hand. Pete Carroll decides to burn a timeout to give his defense rest, but it doesn’t help. After Banks converts on third and two, the Knights have a fresh set of downs nine yards from the end zone. At last, Maverick drops back to pass, but a free rusher comes off the edge, forcing him to throw it away. NesSmith carries up the middle for three yards, setting up third and goal. Maverick drops back looking for Wilkes, but Michael Bennett gets a hand on the football. Maverick hangs on to it and sprints away from the pocket, getting loose before hurling it out of bounds, trying not to show his frustration. Despite not reaching the end zone, the Knights take an 11-7 lead on McCabe’s field goal. Seattle only runs one play, a four-yard run by Rawls, before the clock runs out on what is surely the most memorable first quarter in recent Super Bowl memory. The Knights defense sets as Russell Wilson audibles, changing the formation. Randall responds with a complicated adjustment that puts Brock in coverage in the slot, where Doug Baldwin lines up. On the snap, Brock drops back, already beat, but Baldwin cuts toward the sideline, and Brock is in front of him. Brock looks back to intercept the pass, but Baldwin cuts upfield, and Brock is behind him again. Wilson throws the pass, and all Brock can do is tackle Baldwin after he catches it for a fifteen-yard gain. “C’mon Sean,” Randall yells as everyone gets set for the next play, “learn to fucking cover. Jesus.” Brock internalizes his anger for now, knowing he’s better off using it on the guys wearing blue jerseys. The next play has him in coverage again, but Wilson’s pass goes to Jermaine Kearse. After Lucas misses the tackle, Brock brings him down for what looks like a first down. Kearse jumps up and screams in celebration. Brock walks away, visibly disgusted. Knights defenders stand idly while officials call for a measurement. “What’s your problem?” Grantzinger asks. “Fuck these guys, man,” Brock says. “Every first down is a championship to these pricks.” “Make it hurt for them, then, you pussy.” Officials rule a first down. Brock gets to rush the passer, eagerly joining the wild battles raging on in the trenches. Players grab jerseys and facemasks for leverage. Multiple penalties are visible on each play, but officials don’t throw any flags. They have decided how they want to call this game. So be it. Rawls barrels through would-be tacklers for another first down, near field goal range, and Ripka decides it’s time for the hybrid. He radios the call to Randall, and the Knights line up in 3-4 with Wilson under center. Wilson steps back, surveying the defense. Randall yells, “Seahawk! Seahawk!” The defensive line and linebackers slide in opposite directions into a 4-3. Wilson hurries the snap, and offensive linemen surge ahead with Knights shifting. Rawls runs up the middle, his blockers pummeling white jerseys. Rawls surges into the secondary, going ten yards before being touched. Flash wraps up, but Rawls keeps his feet moving for another five yards before going down across midfield. Before calling the next play, Ripka radios to Randall, “From now on, no hybrid calls unless Wilson is off the ball. Can’t get caught out of position like that.” Seattle maintains momentum, continuing the drive into field goal range though the Knights don’t give up any more big plays. Harden looks on, frustrated that his focal point on defense, beating Seattle’s offensive line, is failing. Luck, Brock, and Grantzinger are all getting past blockers. Wilson is just getting rid of the ball too fast. On second and goal, Wilson runs from the pocket into open grass. All the white jerseys have their backs turned in coverage, so Wilson runs it in himself for the Seahawks’ second touchdown of the night. The extra point makes it 14-11, Seahawks, and Ripka and Harden wait for the defense. Their eyes meet, and Ripka doesn’t hide his stress. “It’s alright,” Harden says. “We’re fine.” For Harden, the game somehow feels easier to manage without the burden of play-calling. He thinks for a moment that this could be a refreshing new start, the beginning of a new way to coach, but then again, of course it won’t. Despite the score, no one panics on the Knights sideline. When the offense gets back on the field, Maverick finds Bishop and Watson on consecutive first-down completions, and everything is fine. The defense will work its issues out, and the Seahawks won’t be able to outscore them. Maverick leads a ruthlessly efficient drive, making it look easy against an elite defense. The Seahawks play the Knights tougher than they’ve been played all year, making them earn every inch, but earn it they do. Maverick mixes in short passes with deeper shots, always avoiding Earl Thomas when he goes long. Wilkes gets open against Sherman frequently enough to avoid frustration. The run game is rare but effective when McKenzie calls it. Bishop’s fifth catch of the day sets up first and goal. Wilkes motions left, away from Sherman, and Maverick takes the snap. Coverage is tight in the end zone, but Maverick throws as Wilkes breaks open. The bullet pass bounces off Wilkes’ hands. Wilkes gets hit, unable to make the catch as a diving Kam Chancellor gets under it, quickly tackled for a touchback. After finishing the last drive frustrated, Maverick shows his disappointment this time, sulking all the way back to the sideline. The Seahawks take over, still with the lead, 4:25 left in the half, and now, for the first time, fear creeps into the Knights sideline. The players feel Coach Harden’s pre-game comments resonating. After everything they’ve done this year, after everything they’ve won, they may lose this game. And they’ll never forget it if they do. Ripka scans his play sheet as Harden walks up to him. “Remember,” Harden says. “They deferred. So if they go down the field here, they get the ball in the second half with a two-score lead. No pressure.” “Thanks, Merle.” “Take it easy on the blitzes. They’re not working anyway. We need to disrupt Wilson’s passes before we come after him.” Grateful for some legitimate advice, Ripka finds a few plays he likes and relays them to Randall. The Seahawks try to run the ball, finding no room, but Wilson finds receivers when he drops back, working the outside. Richardson and Kearse can’t beat Stone and Lucas deep, but they get open easily on underneath routes. The Seahawks are near midfield on third and four with the clock approaching the two-minute warning. Ripka decides now is the time to blitz. Harden hears the call and suppresses a smile. The Knights line up in 4-3. Wilson steps back in shotgun, then calls out adjustments. “Seahawk!” Randall yells. Defenders slide quickly, resetting in a 3-4 as Wilson takes the snap. Randall and Martin blitz. Martin gets picked up but Randall has a free shot at Wilson, who gets crushed as he hurries a pass over the middle. Graham is open, but the ball sails over his head and into Flash’s arms. A Seahawk receiver is ready to tackle him, but Schwinn unleashes a devastating block, and Flash has room to run. The stadium roars as Flash accelerates toward a wall of offensive linemen, then cuts laterally, sweeping around them. Near the sideline, he cuts upfield, eyes on the pylon. Wilson is about to cut him off, so Flash jukes left. He stumbles a bit, and someone brings him down from behind, ten yards short of a pick-six. The crowd maintains its energy as the Knights offense takes the field. Maverick hands off to Banks, who cuts through the trenches for three yards. Second and goal from the seven. The clock ticks as the Knights huddle, in no hurry. Wilkes lines up against Sherman, and Bishop motions from right to left, leaving the two isolated, just what the Knights want. Maverick takes the snap and stares down Wilkes, faking a quick throw. Sherman bites slightly, anticipating a back-shoulder fade, and Wilkes gets in front of him. Maverick throws as hard as he can. Wilkes grabs the pass, presses it against his chest with Sherman grabbing for it, and lands in the end zone. He spikes the ball emphatically before huddling up for the two-point conversion. Maverick fakes a handoff and looks for Harper, but pass-rushers are in his face, and he can’t escape, taking the sack. He doesn’t show any concern, though, high-fiving his offense back to the sideline with 1:14 on the clock. The Seahawks try to run a two-minute drill, but Wilson scrambles around, unable to find anybody open downfield. The drive actually turns into a punt, the Knights get the ball back with 0:02 left, take a knee, and the half ends with the score 17-14, Knights. “Man,” Sampson says, “I gotta pee, but the lines in the bathroom are outrageous.” “We should be winning by twenty,” Cooper says. “Can’t believe Wilkes dropped that touchdown.” Knight’s End hums with anxiety and excitement. Fans are understandably nervous about a close game, but they talk with confidence knowing their team has the lead. The crowd around the bar has gotten so large it almost borders Cooper and Sampson’s high-top, and a few periodically turn around to engage the duo in conversation. One fan, donning a black Ripka jersey, says, “How are we not killing their offensive line? I thought we’d get five sacks by now.” “Wilson’s getting rid of the ball,” Sampson says. “They gotta start pressing,” Cooper says. “Harden should be calling the plays.” “Well, fuck it,” Sampson says, standing up. “The lines aren’t going anywhere, so I might as well.” Cooper studies his beer glass, near empty, wondering how many more he’ll have to order to survive the second half. Fans watch for an onside kick, but Reynolds boots it deep, and the second half begins. The Seahawks resume their quick-throw offense, keeping Wilson’s jersey clean. They get a few first downs before trying to run the ball, but Rawls goes nowhere. Luck tips a third-down pass at the line of scrimmage, and the Seahawks punt. The Knights offense takes the field with an opportunity to extend their lead, but Cliff Avril breaks through for a sack and a nine-yard loss. Two plays later, Reynolds comes out to punt, the first time both offenses have traded punts in this game. Some fans suspect coaches’ halftime adjustments will turn Super Bowl LI into a defensive battle the rest of the way, but are quickly proven wrong. The Seahawks spell Rawls with C.J. Prosise, a more dynamic threat in the passing game. This spreads out the Knights defense and springs Wilson on a few big scrambles. A few plays after reaching the red zone, Wilson connects with Jermaine Kearse on a six-yard touchdown. 21-17, Seahawks. McKenzie has Maverick run the no-huddle. Seattle’s defense is more rested this time, but the Knights mix up formations enough to get them out of position. It takes a few third-down conversions, but the Knights get into the end zone on a ten-yard pass to Harper. Lining up for two, Maverick gets the defense spread out and hands off to NesSmith, who bolts up the middle for the score. 25-21, Knights. Ripka steps up the blitzes, believing he has finally countered Wilson’s quick-strike strategy. This leads to a one-yard run and an incomplete pass, bringing up third and nine. Wilson dumps it off to Prosise on a screen, darting through blockers and diving ahead, getting a first down by inches. Whistles blow everything dead. Players look up at the scoreboard and instinctively hold four fingers in the air, some of them in shock that the end is just fifteen minutes away. Though Wilson somehow finds receivers downfield, pushing the drive into Knights territory, Ripka calls plays with confidence. Seattle’s offensive line is starting to break down. The Knights are on the verge of dominating. A stuffed run and incompletion brings up third and ten. Ripka has his blitz ready, and Wilson takes the snap in shotgun with three linebackers running for him. Wilson hurriedly sets his feet and hurls the ball in the air for Baldwin. Stone has him covered, but both players look up and lose the ball in the lights. Neither sees it until it bounces off Stone’s shoulder and into Baldwin’s arms. Stone tackles him, down at the five-yard line. The Seahawks celebrate like they’ve won the game while the Knights prepare for first and goal. “That’s bad luck, Chet,” Harden says. “Brush it off and keep doing what you’re doing.” Ripka tries to do just that, clinging to the idea of a field goal here and maintaining a one-point lead. Rawls takes a carry up the gut to the three-yard line. Wilson takes a shotgun snap and sweeps left on a designed run. A messy pile of colliding players somehow forms into well-set blocks, and Wilson cuts upfield into the end zone. Harden looks up after the extra point: Seahawks 28, Knights 25, 11:31 to go. He studies his players as they take seats on the bench, eager for water. Harden doesn’t see the point in mentioning it, but his defense is tired. They need a long drive from the offense here. Thankfully, McKenzie and Maverick are ready for just that. They have spent the last twenty minutes planning this possession, and both men are fully confident in a long, grueling touchdown drive that will wear the Seahawks down for good. Things start simply. NesSmith takes a shotgun draw up the middle, gaining only two yards. Then Maverick drops back, looking outside for Wilkes, but pressure comes off the edge. He steps up as the pocket collapses around him, and he goes down, multiple blue jerseys landing on top of him. McKenzie studies his play sheet, forced to adjust his plan for third and fourteen. He has everyone run downfield routes, hoping a streaking Watson will get Wilkes open over the middle. Maverick takes the snap, waiting for the routes to develop, but a free rusher beats Penner up the middle. Maverick rolls left into Michael Bennett. Maverick extends a stiff-arm, running backwards to escape, but Bennett trips him up, and Maverick falls to the ground. He slams the football against the grass, forced back to the sideline as the punt team trots out for an embarrassing fourth and twenty-five. All five offensive linemen plop down on the bench and scarf down water, out of breath. Penner, in particular, is desperate for air. “What the fuck?” McKenzie says, positioning himself in front of the O-line. “Brian, what’s your problem?” “My old body’s fightin’ me,” Penner says. “I’m doing my best.” “Are you fucking kidding me? This is the goddamn Super Bowl, and you’re whining about your best? Get in the game or ride the bench. Your choice.” McKenzie struts off to grill Maverick for adding ten yards to that sack. Penner stays where he is, trying to catch his breath a few minutes while watching the game on the big screen. None of the linemen speaks. By the time Penner feels somewhat relaxed, he also feels his back throbbing. He looks up at the big screen, seeing Grantzinger notch a third-down sack, setting the Knights offense for a return to the field. “Okay,” Penner says, standing up and getting the offensive line’s attention. “I am either dying in my bed, a long fuckin’ time from now, with two Super Bowl rings on my fingers…” He turns around. “…or I am dying tonight, on this field, with one. Let’s play football.” A great punt leaves the Knights on their own three-yard line, down three points with 8:26 on the clock. Maverick leans on Wilkes, still able to beat Sherman on short routes, for some easy passes that buy the Knights breathing room. The chains move and the clock ticks. McKenzie is comfortable with the pace, knowing a long drive could put the Knights ahead with very little time left. Maverick builds some confidence, able to find receivers with good blocking in front of him again. McKenzie calls a few rollouts, and they work. A ten-yard catch by Johnson puts the Knights near midfield as the clock ticks under five minutes. An incompletion and short throw to Wilkes brings up third and five. Maverick drops back with Wilkes and Watson running deep. Pressure comes off the edge. He steps up, unable to spot anybody. He tucks the ball to run it himself, but multiple linebackers head straight for him. He spots Bishop out of the corner of his eye and laterals it to him. Bishop catches it and runs sideways, trying to outrun the defenders, but they’re too fast. “LOGAN!” Bishop hears Maverick’s voice and, no time to see if he’s beyond the line of scrimmage, throws it back across the field. Maverick catches the sideways pass, puts his fingers on the laces, and bombs it to the end zone as a defender levels him. From the grass, he watches as Watson runs full speed, escaping double coverage, trying to catch up to the ball. As he reaches the end zone, he dives, fully extending his body. The ball hits his hands, and he holds on to it as his stomach hits the ground and he slides through the end zone and out of bounds. The nearest official raises his arms as Watson shows off the ball. Touchdown, Knights. Watson hurriedly springs to his feet in a fit of madness. “OH YEAH! LET’S GO, BABY! LET’S GO!” Watson leads a frenzied celebration onto the sideline, most of the offense following as Harden calls for the extra point, wanting a four-point lead. McCabe knocks it through, and the Knights are on top, 32-28, with 3:53 to go. Every player, coach, and trainer stops by to congratulate Maverick and Watson (and Bishop) on one of the wildest touchdowns they’ve ever seen. After celebrating, Maverick and Watson gulp down water and gasp for air, both too tired to realize they just made career-defining plays. After a touchback, many fans in NRG Stadium don’t bother sitting down through the commercial break. The Knights defense stands on the field, inching closer to Randall to hear the first play. “Alright, boys,” Randall says. “No MVP drives from Maverick tonight. It’s defense wins championships. Let’s seal this fucking thing and celebrate.” Ripka and Harden stand shoulder to shoulder, Ripka calling plays and Harden providing scarce feedback. The Seahawks start what looks like one of their drives from the first half; Wilson gets rid of the ball quickly for short, safe completions. This chews a lot of clock, despite a hurried pace. Wilson rolls to his right, finding Baldwin over the middle for another first down. 3:01, 3:00, 2:59… Graham catches a quick pass and Randall wraps him up, but a Seahawk receiver pushes the two forward, and Graham keeps his feet moving for a nine-yard gain. 2:42, 2:41, 2:40… Wilson hands off to Rawls, sliding through blocks for a first down before Randall and Brock bring him down. It’s first and ten from midfield. 2:10, 2:09, 2:08… The Seahawks try to get lined up with Pete Carroll preserving his timeouts, but the clock hits 2:00, and players get another rest. After the commercial break, the Seahawks line up in a bunch formation, then spread everyone out. Randall flips the 4-3 to a 3-4 and calls adjustments to the secondary. Wilson drops back against an inside blitz. Martin has a free run at the quarterback, whose eyes light up before bombing it downfield. The Knights sideline watches in horror as a wide-open Jimmy Graham streaks toward the end zone, nobody near him. Flash reaches full speed to catch him, diving and hitting his feet at the ten-yard line. Graham stumbles, falls, extends the ball, and slides into the end zone grass. He holds the ball up, celebrating a touchdown. The nearest official, though, stands a yard short of the goal line and holds one arm up, signaling first down. Graham protests while Flash and Schwinn yell at each other about who was supposed to be over the top. Meanwhile, Pete Carroll lets the clock wind before calling timeout with 1:18 to go, allowing both rest for his offense and an opportunity for a booth review. Officials confer about the spot, but multiple replays on the stadium big screens confirm that they’ve gotten it correct, right around the one-yard line. Randall walks to the sideline to confer with Harden and Ripka. From their executive suite, Phillips and Schneider stand, unable to sit, and ponder the upcoming set of downs. “We’ve got to let them score, don’t we?” Schneider asks. “Allow the touchdown, make it 35-32, then give Maverick two minutes to score.” “I think we should,” Phillips says, “but I don’t think we will.” Unknown to them, Randall and Ripka have the same idea, but it is Harden who speaks first. “Alright, they’re gonna run it here on first down, so let’s stuff the middle.” “Hang on,” Ripka says. “Merle, I know what you’ll think, but I honestly think the smart thing—” “Zip it,” Harden says, anticipating someone would bring it up. “We did not get here by letting teams score.” “We didn’t get here with elite defense either, in all fairness.” Harden stares down Ripka, and Randall jumps in. “Coach is right,” he says, motioning toward Ripka. “We can’t stop them four times with normal plays. We have to guess run or pass every play and commit to it.” “Agreed,” Harden says. “Chet and I will make our guess. You see an adjustment, you make it. Got it?” Randall nods. “Get out there.” Randall jogs back toward his defense as Harden and Ripka agree on a call. The other ten defenders gather around their defensive captain, figuring, but not liking, that they’ll have to just concede a touchdown here and hope the offense wins the game. Randall waits until he’s sure everyone is looking him in the eye. “This is gonna be the goal line stand of our lives,” he says. “They’ll talk about this one for years.” Everyone’s eyes light up, and Randall relays the call that buzzes in his ear. Both teams line up in a bunch, goal-line formation. Wilson lines up under center with Rawls behind him. He takes the snap and hands it off. Randall, Martin, Schwinn, and Flash all run up the middle. Rawls leaps over the pile of bodies. Randall and Martin hit him mid-air, and he falls back to the ground for no gain. Second and goal. Ripka and Harden turn to each other and say, “Run,” simultaneously. Ripka calls a similar play. The Seahawks line up with extra receivers this time, but the Knights keep the box stacked. 0:40, 0:39… Rawls gets it again, running up the middle before cutting outside. Grantzinger sheds his blocker and hits Rawls, stopping his momentum. Schwinn comes flying in to bring him down, and officials spot the ball back at the two, a loss of a yard. Third and goal. “Pass,” Ripka and Harden say simultaneously. Carroll lets the clock run before calling timeout with 0:12 to go, essentially preventing the Knights from getting the ball back after a game-winning score. Ripka and Harden stick to their original call. Wilson lines up under center, then backs up into shotgun. Randall spreads out the front seven. Wilson takes the snap and looks right. Blue jerseys get pressed at the line of scrimmage. He looks left. Rawls runs a route towards Brock, who tries to follow him as Rawls cuts left into the end zone. Wilson throws for him. Brock tries to catch up, diving through the air and extending his arm, tipping the ball over Rawls’ head and out of bounds. Fourth and goal. Brock leaps to his feet and teammates surround him, feeding off the great play and the reality: whether they agreed with Coach Harden’s decision or not, no one had any illusions about their odds. But now, they’re one play away, with 0:06 on the clock. Seattle calls its final timeout. Randall waits for the call, looking toward Ripka and Harden, neither of whom has spoken yet. “Run or pass?” Ripka finally asks. “I don’t know,” Harden says honestly. “One yard out, I’d say run, but from the two? Could be anything.” “We can call against a pass and give Briggs some blitzes if he senses run. And we’ll stack the box regardless.” Harden thinks. “That works for me. Make the call.” Ripka radios in the play plus audibles, Randall relays it, and both teams line up for Super Bowl LI’s final play. No one on either sideline, anywhere in the stadium, or anywhere in the world watching the game, is sitting. Wilson lines up in shotgun with two receivers, plus Graham in the slot, Rawls next to him. The Knights have man coverage on the outside, Flash against Graham, with defenders crowding the line of scrimmage inside, showing blitz. Wilson shouts a few adjustments. Randall changes nothing. Wilson takes the snap. He drops back, looking right for Graham. Flash stays with him. Randall waits for a receiver, wanting to blitz, and sees something in the pass protection. It must be something he noticed on film, but he sees it. “SCREEN!” he yells. “SCREEN!” He cuts to his right as Wilson dumps the ball off to Rawls, but a lineman crushes him. Brock and Martin break off coverage, sprinting toward the developing screen. Rawls catches the ball four yards from the end zone with two blockers in front of him. Brock and Martin take on their blockers, fighting for leverage at the goal line. Rawls stops, no room to slide between blocks, and cuts right. The clock hits zero. Martin sheds his block enough to make Rawls run wide, where Randall closes down on him. Rawls cuts toward the end zone, one yard away, extending the ball. Randall and Martin hit him, stopping him dead. A wave of offensive linemen run toward the pile, ready to push Rawls into the end zone, but Schwinn gets there first, lowering his shoulder into Martin, driving the whole pile backward. Randall stays on his feet as Rawls goes down, breaking into an adrenaline-induced sprint back toward midfield. He doesn’t look back to see where officials spot the ball, but he sees the entire Knights sideline emptying, white jerseys flooding the field. Harden stands still, trying to spot the officials through the chaos in front of him. He has to glance up at the big screen to confirm it, but sure enough, it’s down on the one-yard line, turnover on downs, game over. Knights 32, Seahawks 28. Harden stands in shock, slowly turning back toward the sideline, already almost empty. He sees Maverick, arms extended, barreling toward him. Without a second thought, he smiles, opens his arms, and the two embrace as a cooler of Gatorade comes flying in, dousing them both in purple liquid with ice cubes flying in all directions. 19 wins, 0 losses. Phillips breaks from his embrace of Schneider and turns to his family. All three children mob him, physically overpowering him so much that he falls down. For a moment, he feels like a young father again, in no hurry to get up. Everyone in the restaurant raises their arms, spraying beer into the air, bellowing out in jubilation. They don’t know and wouldn’t think to consider it, but the celebration can be heard multiple blocks away. Cooper knocks his beer over to leap across the table and mob Sampson with a monstrous bear hug. When he’s done with him, he does what every other Knights fan is doing: circle around the bar, shaking hands and high-fiving and hugging people he has never met, all of them sharing the same victory. The initial wave fades, fans begin focusing more on the TV than themselves, and the celebration turns emotional for some. Men who have never cried in their lives wipe away tears running down their face. Everyone looks up at the scene in Houston, and the noise level around Knight’s End lowers enough so fans can hear, off in the distance across the city, the sound of fireworks. Players move around the field in a daze, confetti littered across their jerseys and falling onto hats that say, “Los Angeles Knights, Super Bowl LI Champions.” Many stay close to family members, congratulating whatever player or coach passes by. Most of these players enjoyed this same celebration two years ago, but that wasn’t going undefeated. Two years ago feels meaningless compared to this. The stage is set up, and players part into two groups, forming a long line down which the shiny Vincent Lombardi Trophy comes, touched by players’ hands on its way to the center of the field. Phillips watches the trophy coming his way, standing next to Schneider and Harden. He tries to live in this moment, to focus on every detail around him and nothing else. He remembers the Super Bowl two years ago, how everyone so quickly moved on to preparation for free agency, for next season, for winning another Super Bowl before celebrating the one they had just earned. He won’t make that mistake this time. And so, the Los Angeles Knights pass around the Lombardi Trophy, celebrating both a championship and what many will call a perfect season. The Knights, of course, know this year has been far from perfect. These players have all survived a catastrophic earthquake that left them with physical and emotional damage. They watched their head coach collapse during a game shortly before learning he had throat cancer. They watched their star running back suffer a devastating knee injury. They warded off rumors that the team itself was being relocated to a different continent. And yet, here they are. As Coach Harden said in December… Perfect? No, the Knights can never celebrate perfection. Instead, they celebrate a 19-0 record, something not even the previous fifty Super Bowl winners accomplished. 4 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
RazorStar 4,025 Posted May 12, 2017 Perfectville Population: 2 4 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Sarge+ 3,436 Posted May 12, 2017 Mercury Morris is soooo shook. But so am I. What a finish, Steven! I'm very glad to see the Knights end this way. That game was very exciting and not a tad unrealistic. Now I am very eager to see what happens to everyone after this is all over. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Cherry 1,302 Posted May 12, 2017 Holy shit what a way to end the ride. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Thanatos 2,847 Posted May 15, 2017 What a game, what a story, and what a final chapter- at least as far as the games go. You write a hell of a story, Stevo. 1 Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
SteVo+ 3,702 Posted May 17, 2017 Hump Day Bump Day Thanks for the kind words, guys. I had to go all out for our final football game. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites