345 - Hollywood: Winner Takes America (Patreon)

345 - Week Seven's Marquee Matchup

"The Rams have come out of nowhere, but that doesn't make them unbeatable." Nolan looked around at the three coaches.

"No," Andy said. "I've spent the week studying their offense, and I think I've found the key." He clicked the remote.

A photograph appeared on the screen: a broad-shouldered, silver-haired man in glasses, caught at the edge of a football field shouting toward the players.

The lights were down. The four men stared at the photograph until Holmgren grinned. "This looks like an Interpol briefing. Are we hunting a Russian fugitive?"

"Mike Martz," Andy said. "The Rams hired him this year. He worked at Arizona State, learned from Ernie Zampese, then coached in Washington under Norv Turner. Both men came through Don Coryell's system. This is Air Coryell."

Andy and Holmgren came from Bill Walsh's West Coast offense: short throws, precise timing, and movement that pulled defenses apart.

Martz favored the vertical game Coryell had made famous with the San Diego Chargers, whose passing attacks led the league around the turn of the eighties.

Before that shift, two broad ideas had dominated pro offenses.

One was smashmouth football: establish the run, make the defense absorb contact, and use the passing game when the ground attack opened it up. Vince Lombardi's teams had shown how punishing that could be.

The other was the traditional pro set, with two backs behind the quarterback and enough protection to give him time to choose between his receivers.

Both still had a place. But the rules had changed what a passing attack could do.

Since the 1978 rule associated with Mel Blount, defenders could no longer keep hitting a receiver downfield. Contact beyond five yards drew a flag.

Coryell saw what that opened up. He asked his quarterbacks to attack more of the field, more often.

The league hadn't stopped running the ball overnight, but passing no longer had to wait for a defense to crowd the line.

The quarterback could threaten five eligible receivers, including the tight end and running back. A wideout often replaced the fullback. Less protection meant more pressure, but a quick throw could beat the rush.

"Martz pushes it further," Andy said, changing slides. "Before the snap, he moves his receivers around and makes the defense show its hand."

"Warner can read man or zone, then lead his target into space. In the games I've charted, nine throws in ten reach the receiver in stride. There's no wrestling for the ball. He keeps running."

It helped to have Isaac Bruce. The Rams had three other starting receivers good enough to punish a defense that focused on him, plus three backups they trusted.

The Angels' two starting wideouts were capable players. Neither had Bruce's polish, and the depth behind them was thinner still.

"We can borrow what works on offense," Holmgren said. "First we have to survive it on defense."

"Champ Bailey can take away one route," Rhodes said. "They'll still have too many places to throw."

Andy nodded. "We can't cover every option forever."

"Then Warner can't have forever," Nolan said.

If they couldn't shut every window at the receiving end, they would have to disrupt the throw before it left Warner's hand.

"And that," Andy said, "is where the problem starts."

The next image showed Orlando Pace, the Rams' enormous left tackle and the first overall pick of the 1997 draft.

"He makes this look easy," Andy said. "He's also one of the best left tackles in the league."

The plan sounded simple enough: beat Pace, reach Warner, end the play.

Finding someone who could do it consistently was another matter.

Martz would adjust his protection too. One successful rush wouldn't be a game plan.

The coaches turned through more film and came away without an answer they liked.

At last all three looked at Nolan.

"You're not asking me to play defense, are you?" he muttered, propping his face in his hands. For once, he wasn't sure what the offense could do to keep pace with the opponent across the field. The Rams looked more relentless than last year's Broncos.

"Then we do what we did last week," Holmgren said. "Make our offense the problem they have to solve."

The house purchase moved faster than Nolan had expected. Contracts, payment, and keys were handled within three days. Moving a household this large took longer. While Nolan trained, Mia organized it.

That evening he came home to the new place for the first time.

Shoe boxes rose in stacks across the entry hall. Lisa directed movers carrying artwork toward the walls. Even the broad foyer looked crowded.

The clothes and luggage he could see were only the beginning. The basement was already filling up.

"The garage needs more room," Grace said, coming over in a T-shirt. She had taken the day off to move out of her parents' home. "At least twice as many spaces. We may have to build on another level."

"And the bedrooms won't be enough," Katherine said. "We need another nursery now, and more bedrooms as the children get older."

There were a dozen smaller decisions behind those, punctuated by the children's calls from upstairs. Nolan stood in the middle of it, trying to follow three conversations at once.

He had just learned why men sometimes came home and sat in the car for five minutes before going inside.

"We need a house manager," he said, dropping onto the sofa. Training had drained what little energy he had left.

The others saw it and let the list of problems rest for the night.

Mia emerged from the kitchen glittering with jewelry. Since Nolan's success, she had acquired a taste for expensive pieces and no longer pretended she intended to cook dinner herself. A chef had taken care of that.

At the long table, Mia sat on Nolan's left and Katherine on his right. Lisa, Grace, and Kelsey took the other places. The move had exhausted them, but all five seemed to be imagining what life here could become.

Nolan looked down at his plate. Oysters, fish, shrimp, seaweed, and nuts crowded it. Apparently dinner came with an agenda.

"What's that?" he asked, eyeing a bowl of broth. A skinned piece of meat, larger than any frog leg he knew, floated among several seahorses.

"Iguana from Nicaragua," Mia said with a smile he didn't trust. "Good for you."

'At this rate she'll be feeding me powdered mummies when I'm older.'

His face must have given him away, because Mia explained herself.

"I'm planning ahead. You'll need your energy."

He looked around the table. Nobody rushed to disagree with her.

'Are they trying to tell me something?' He ate what he could. The iguana stayed in the bowl.

Later, several of the women arrived at his bedroom in light, sheer nightclothes, each apparently having had the same idea.

Grace was the only one who wasn't pregnant. There would be no wild night. They settled beside him and listened while he told them about practice.

"Andy had me pushing a weighted sled over and over," Nolan said. "Rhodes added more conditioning. I think they're trying to find out where my limit is."

Years around Nolan had taught them enough football to recognize how unusual that sounded. They asked what the coaches had seen on film.

As he talked, they tried to work the knots out of his shoulders and arms. Whether the massages helped or not, the care behind them did.

"You've already done more than anyone expected," Katherine said. "It's an expansion team. Missing the playoffs wouldn't erase that."

"Just protect yourself," Grace added. "We need you thinking clearly for a long time."

"And if football stops being worth the risk," Lisa said, "you can concentrate on running the club."

Nolan shook his head. Without him on the field, the Angels might look much more like another struggling expansion team. Cleveland's season was reminder enough of how unforgiving this league could be.

Business mattered, but winning made owners listen. Jerry Jones hadn't challenged the NFL so openly before Dallas's Super Bowl years gave him leverage.

"The Rams are coming hard. This game will tell us something about the Angels. And in the long run, Los Angeles is only one part of..." His voice faded. He had fallen asleep mid-thought.

"Week Seven brings us one of the games everybody wanted to see," the CBS play-by-play announcer said at the Rose Bowl. "The unbeaten St. Louis Rams visit Nolan Callahan and the expansion Los Angeles Angels. A year ago Kurt Warner was still playing in NFL Europe. Now he's one of the league's hottest quarterbacks. What happens when he faces last season's Super Bowl champion?"

"First, a welcome for the Angels' cheer squad," his partner said. "They made an impression on viewers last week. Which performer caught your eye?"

"Belinda," the play-by-play announcer said. "I remember her work in Jacksonville. Who would you pick?"

"She has wonderful technique. Kristen has been easy to overlook, though, and her movement is sharp. She's a pleasure to watch."

Whether the booth had come up with the exchange or the producer had suggested it, the attention served the team's publicity plan.

"CBS has more for you today. With the Angels' permission, we'll check in with the squad before kickoff and again at halftime."

The interest had exceeded Nolan's expectations. He hadn't needed to ask the network. If the extra segments kept viewers watching, CBS wanted to discuss more.

Both teams ran onto the field to a roar. The Angels had sold more seats than ever. Temporary seating and a stretch of continuous upper-deck benches had made room for the crowd.

The Rams received first. Nolan watched Warner, number thirteen, take his place behind center. At the call, the ball came back into his hands.

Warner barely paused to read the defense. He planted and launched the ball deep.

Two Rams receivers had broken into their routes at the snap.

They were trying to open the game with the kind of long strike Nolan had made his own.

The pass arced toward Isaac Bruce. He caught it in stride with open grass between him and the end zone.