Draft Capital

"A year ago, I wouldn't have believed you'd be unveiling a football team on Sunset Boulevard," Leo said.

Nolan raised his glass. The reception after the Angels' reveal was loud enough to make a private conversation difficult.

"A year ago I thought I'd still be fighting Jerry over the playbook."

Leo introduced Naomi Campbell, who had joined the broadcast as a guest. She knew other people who watched Nolan's games and wanted to see the Angels when they finally had a home date.

"Call the club when we have a schedule," Nolan told her. "Grace will know what seats we can actually offer."

"A sensible answer from a man who just dropped out of the sky in a white jersey," Naomi said.

"Kelsey dropped out of the sky. I walked through smoke."

Across the room, Keanu Reeves was talking with Charlize Theron. Nolan thanked them for coming. The reception gave them another chance to discuss The Matrix and its upcoming release, but Charlize also wanted to know whether Nolan's proposed practice facility had a roof. He described the Santa Clarita warehouse lease. She laughed at how quickly he turned a party into a construction update.

Britney Spears stayed near Felicia Culotta and her tour staff. Nolan checked that the appearance had gone according to the agreement, then let Jennifer Love Hewitt explain the proposed Happy Death Day pages through Lisa's office. Britney took the script information to review with her team. She had another early call and left with Felicia before the reception grew late.

Angelina Jolie introduced herself to Nolan after talking with Katherine and Sarah Michelle Gellar. She had heard Lisa might be looking for actors. Nolan did not promise her a role.

"Speak with Lisa," he said. "She'll tell you what she's casting."

"That's a much less exciting answer than I expected."

"It's the one that gives you a real meeting."

By midnight, Ovitz was trying to leave without discussing the bill. Nolan caught him near the exit.

"The club's operating account isn't paying for the property group's launch party," Nolan said.

"We invited half of your friends."

"To put an audience in front of your district plan. That's development promotion. Mia will charge only the documented team portion to the team."

Ovitz considered arguing, then called his office to approve the separate expense. Katherine would put the allocation in writing. The quarrel was small beside the stadium deal, but Nolan wanted the boundary established before it became a habit to cross it.

Several guests came home with the household rather than travel tired. Sarah was among them. She had been drinking at the reception, so Nolan showed her a guest room and left her to rest. The following morning, after breakfast and coffee, she found him alone in the kitchen.

"I was embarrassed last night," she said. "Everyone knows us both."

"You don't owe me an explanation."

"I know. That's why I'm giving you one." She set down her cup. "I want to see you privately. When we're both clearheaded, and without anyone else deciding it for me."

"Only if that's what you want," he said. "And we talk about protection first."

"Yes. We talk first."

They did. Whatever followed was their decision, made without an audience or the pressure of the night before. Nolan did not mistake her choice for a promise about the rest of her life.

...

The Santa Clarita lease gave the Angels a converted warehouse for indoor work and an office building that could hold the coaching and performance staff. Renovations had to be completed before summer camp. Pasadena approved terms for the Rose Bowl as the temporary game venue, subject to the city, stadium calendar and league's final scheduling. The proposed rent was at least $750,000 per home game or fifteen percent of that game's ticket revenue, whichever was higher. Mia showed Nolan the figures. He did not enjoy reading them.

Holmgren called after another meeting with Katherine and Reid. This time he had a clear description of the offensive coordinator's authority and an eight-year offer with a guaranteed base of two million dollars a season. The incentives could raise his annual pay to four million, but they were not guaranteed. He knew Reid's title was not temporary. He had taken time to speak to his former assistant without Nolan in the room. Neither man claimed their old tensions were gone. They agreed they could work together if they argued over plays rather than who sat in the head coach's chair. Rhodes signed to lead the defense on the coordinator terms Katherine had put in writing. Nolan did not celebrate a staff until all three contracts were reviewed and signed.

The coaches went to Indianapolis for draft meetings and scouting appointments. Nolan joined them for private workouts after the public combine. Holmgren knew the prospects well. Reid brought a board sorted by what the club could afford and where it had no starter. Rhodes kept circling one cornerback's name: Champ Bailey.

They watched Edgerrin James work through cuts without wasting a step. Bailey changed direction as if he had heard the quarterback's thought before the ball came out. Nolan wanted both. That was the problem: an expansion team with the top pick could take one player first, but it could not fill fifty-three roster places by wishing.

Reid marked a second-round center and three later defensive prospects. Rhodes crossed out one who had tested well but lost his assignment in the film they had reviewed. Holmgren kept returning to protection. Their differences were specific enough to help Nolan. An argument about which famous player looked best on television would not have been.

"He's the defender I want," Rhodes said.

"And we need a back who changes the way people defend Nolan," Reid replied. "Edgerrin James or Ricky Williams."

Holmgren preferred Bailey, too. The disagreement was useful until the two men stopped listening to each other. Nolan waited for them to finish.

"We don't have to make the first pick," he said.

The room went quiet.

The Angels had the first selection under the expansion allocation adopted for this altered league season. Nolan already had a quarterback. Cleveland, Philadelphia, Cincinnati and New Orleans were all studying the quarterbacks at the top of the board: Tim Couch, Donovan McNabb, Akili Smith, Cade McNown and Daunte Culpepper. Moving down could turn one pick into a roster. If another club paid enough, they might still climb back for both a running back and a corner.

"Find out who wants number one," he told the coaches. "Ask for written offers. I don't want a trade we can't explain to the league or to each other."

Holmgren worked his contacts. Reid and Rhodes kept scouting, and Katherine made sure each proposed exchange described picks, not people outside the player roster. At night Nolan took calls from general managers. Some offered two selections and wanted him to call it generous. Bill Kuharich of New Orleans was willing to go much further.

"You're giving up the twelfth pick and all six of your other selections this year?" Nolan asked.

"And future capital. Tell me what closes it."

They settled on New Orleans's number twelve, its remaining six picks in the current draft, and seven future selections spread across the next two drafts in exchange for the Angels' number one. Thirteen extra picks in all. Nolan read the list back to Kuharich, then had Katherine and the league's transaction office confirm the conditions. Nothing about the Saints' cheer staff entered the agreement. Anyone who wanted to work in Los Angeles would apply independently.

Katherine wrote the ledger in two columns. Current year: number twelve plus six selections in rounds two through seven. Future years: three Saints picks in the following draft and four in the one after that. Nolan checked which of the current picks could be moved again and which carried conditions. Reid stared at the cost from New Orleans's side.

"They must believe one man changes their whole franchise," he said.

"They can believe it," Nolan replied. "We have to make the pieces they gave us change ours."

"What does New Orleans want so badly?" Holmgren asked after the call.

"Let them answer that," Nolan said. "We have twelve and thirteen tools to move with."

On draft day, Nolan and the coaches watched from home with their boards spread across the table. New Orleans moved the first pick again; Cleveland took Tim Couch. Philadelphia selected McNabb second. Cincinnati took Akili Smith third. The quarterbacks had gone where Nolan expected, leaving his preferred players available.

Rhodes stood when Cincinnati made its choice. He wanted Nolan to call the next club before anyone else did. Holmgren wanted one more look at James's medical review and protection tape. Reid had already prepared the offer to Indianapolis. No one signed off on a player solely because Nolan could remember what he might become years later; the staff had to be willing to coach the player in front of them now.

The Angels sent number twelve and the six additional New Orleans picks from this draft to Indianapolis for number four, a trade the league processed before the pick was announced. Reid did not wait for another argument.

"James," he said.

Nolan made the call. "Edgerrin James."

On television, the running back embraced his family. New Orleans, after its own chain of deals, used number five on Ricky Williams. Rhodes kept his eyes on the remaining teams.

"Bailey won't get past seven."

They still had seven future picks from the Saints. Nolan used six of them to acquire San Francisco's number twenty-four, then packaged that selection with four of the Angels' own future picks in a separate deal for Washington's number seven. Katherine read the cost aloud before he approved it. It was steep. It was also legal, traceable, and limited to football assets.

"We're borrowing from teams we haven't built yet," she warned.

"I know. I want the cost in the minutes."

"It will be there. So will the reason."

Rhodes had made the reason plain: a new defense could spend seasons looking for a corner who could survive alone against the league's best receivers. The Angels could take one now. That did not erase the later picks they were giving up, but it made the gamble deliberate.

"Champ Bailey," Nolan said when their turn came.

Rhodes exhaled. Reid smiled despite himself. Holmgren nodded once, as if he had expected nothing less.

The Angels had turned the first overall pick into James and Bailey. They still held their original selections in rounds two through seven and one of the Saints' future picks, but the trades had emptied much of their later ammunition. Nolan wrote the remaining ledger on the board so nobody would speak as if they had acquired the players for free.

"Two great names," Reid said. "Now we need the rest of a team."

Nolan looked past the first-round celebration to the six unfilled lines beneath it. The next choices might matter even more.