TGS Chapter 105 Shifting Hierarchies (Patreon)

The Rams' opening kickoff sailed deep and high with the trajectory of kicks from teams that have worked on that unit for weeks of preseason, and the Minnesota returner caught it on the 9-yard line and ran to the 25 before the Rams' coverage team forced him out of bounds, and right there began the first possession for the Vikings with their offense taking the field and Joel Stave out front.

For that first snap, U.S. Bank Stadium held the level of noise that domed stadiums have when the game really starts, which is a level of noise that spikes suddenly the moment the ball leaves the tee and then settles into something that is not constant, but rather breathes with the rhythm of what occurs on the field, rising when the offense advances and dipping slightly when the play does not produce what the stands expect it to produce. Stave’s first play was a short pass to the slot that he completed without difficulty, and the stands responded with the noise they offer to a successful first play—which is sufficient but not exaggerated, because a successful first play is the minimum expected and not the exception.

In the booth, the two commentators had before them what was a preseason game between two teams that were going to finalize their rosters in days, and the type of material that such a scenario produces when one of the two teams had experienced, the week before that game, the kind of news that is not planned and that changes everything that had been planned.

"Stave starts with a short pass to the slot that he completes," said the first, "but what interests me tonight is not what Stave does on 1st and 10, but what he does when the situation gets complicated, because that is what Minnesota needs to know before the roster closes."

The second waited for the right moment before saying what came next.

"And the context of that evaluation," he said, "is the one they've had since Tuesday. Because what occurred in Eden Prairie three days ago changes the way one looks at everything that happens on this field tonight in a Vikings uniform."

"Teddy Bridgewater," said the first.

"Tear of the anterior cruciate ligament in his left knee," said the second. "During a non-contact walkthrough session on Tuesday morning. The Vikings confirmed the news, and what that means is that Bridgewater is not going to return this year. And in the NFL, an entire season is a period of time that is not recovered in the sense that the weeks and months that pass while a quarterback is in rehabilitation are weeks and months that occur without him, and those who are on the field during that time accumulate experience and chemistry with the system and with their teammates in a way that the one who was in rehabilitation has to rebuild from zero when he returns."

The camera went to the field where Stave was preparing the second snap of the possession.

"Bridgewater was the undisputed starter for the opening of the regular season next week," said the first. "He had spent the entire preseason building chemistry with the receivers, with Norv Turner, with an offensive line that this year is significantly better than last year's. All of that work now exists in a situation that no one in Eden Prairie anticipated when that Tuesday started."

"And Stave is what he is," said the second. "He is an undrafted free agent whom the Vikings signed this season after none of the other 31 organizations chose him in any of the 7 rounds of the draft. It is not a judgment on his talent, but a description of his situation. And the situation of an undrafted quarterback in the NFL has the peculiarity that the margin between being on the team and not being on it is the narrowest margin that exists in professional sports."

"32 starters in the whole league," said the first. "In 32 organizations. Only 32. The number of players who want those spots is a multiple of that number that is difficult to quantify, and the quarterback position is where that competition is most visible because the starter is visible in a way that the guard or the safety are not. When a team wins, the quarterback receives part of the credit; when it loses, he receives part of the blame. That does not change regardless of how much the other ten contributed."

The screen showed Stave in the huddle with the focused expression of those who have spent three plays trying to prove something, and Stave in that huddle had the face that quarterbacks have when they know that what each play produces or fails to produce is information that goes beyond the scoreboard of that game and arrives directly at the question of whether they are going to be on the roster the following week. That awareness in the huddle is an additional burden that quarterbacks who are secure in their position do not have to carry, and that those who are not carry in a way that is sometimes seen on the field in the extra fraction of a second it takes for the decision to arrive.

On the Vikings' sideline, Mike Zimmer had his arms crossed and the expression he wears when what he was looking at was not what he wanted to see—which was an expression without visible temperature of anger, but something colder and more deliberate than anger, which is the expression of coaches who have seen enough games for the emotions they have on the field to be emotions they process differently than ordinary ones.

Norv Turner was by his side with the earpiece in his ear.

"The read on 3rd and 7 was bad," Turner said without taking his eyes off the field. "He had Pressley open in the middle zone two seconds before the pressure arrived, and he didn't see him."

Zimmer said nothing.

"It's not the first time," Turner said.

Zimmer looked at the field where the Vikings' offense was preparing for 4th down, with the punter walking toward the field from the sideline and the Rams' defense reorganizing into kick block formation.

"Bridgewater solves it," Scott Turner said from the other side of Zimmer, with the voice of someone saying something that does not need to be said, but that the body expels anyway because the body sometimes needs to name what it cannot change in order to keep functioning.

Zimmer looked at him.

"On Tuesday, Teddy was on the field with the first team," Scott said. "We were doing a non-contact walkthrough session, his foot caught as he planted, and the scream that followed was something none of us wanted to hear."

The image of that in Zimmer's mind was an image he had already seen more than once, and every time he visited it, it had the same result—which was the acknowledgment that things that occur in that manner have no cause to justify them nor reason to explain them, but simply occur, and the work that comes after they occur is the work of processing what exists and not what could have been.

And what existed was the rushed signing of Stave which had turned out poorly, and the possession that was going away without points, and the roster closing in a week with a quarterback position that now had an uncertainty that before did not exist in that way.

"Stave isn't up to par," Norv Turner said with the pragmatism of coordinators who have seen many situations of this type and who know that the time used in lamenting is time not used in solving. "He isn't up to par for what we need this season. That's what there is."

Zimmer looked toward the field where the Vikings' offense had failed to move the chains in three plays, and fourth down was arriving with the punter walking toward the field from the sideline.

It was not a result that surprised Zimmer.

What surprised Zimmer was the distance between what Stave showed in practice—where the pressure was the simulated pressure of teammates—and what he showed in game situations, where the pressure was the real pressure of those who are trying to take him off the field by any means available. And that distance in a starting quarterback was a distance that a coaching staff could work on over an entire season and reduce. But in a second quarterback who has to be ready to enter at any moment without that period of work, that distance was a different problem.

"We both know it," he said.

Turner nodded.

"And the roster closes in a few days," he said.

Zimmer did not respond to that.

There were answers to what Turner had just said, but none of them changed what he had just said, and Zimmer had been in this job long enough to know that answers that change nothing are answers that do not need to be said out loud in front of the sideline with the game in progress.

He shifted his gaze to the visiting bench on the other side of the field.

In the booth, Minnesota's punt gave them a few seconds to return to what they had been talking about before the play interrupted them.

"What Stave needed tonight was a clean first possession," said the first. "Three plays executed well. Without reading errors. Without forced pressure. For those who are evaluating his situation inside the locker room to see that nothing changed in his preparation."

"And what he showed on the first drive was not that," said the second.

"It was not."

There was the brief silence of those who have arrived together at a conclusion that neither wanted to be the first to state directly.

"The quarterback position in the NFL has no margin," said the first. "There is no second place that is worth anything. A team has a starter, and it has those who wait for the starter to fail or get injured to take that place. And the moment the starter fails or gets injured, the competition for that place begins immediately—without an adaptation period, without time to prepare in the way one would prepare if one knew beforehand that the moment was going to arrive."

"Bridgewater didn't know," said the second. "Stave didn't know either that days ago they were the first and second of a hierarchy that had a certain stability. And in one morning, that hierarchy changed in a way that neither of them anticipated when they arrived at the field that day."

"The Minnesota punter kicks," said the second while the camera followed the ball in the air, "and on the other side of the field, there is a name on that bench that the entire league is watching tonight."

"Wyatt Sterling," said the first. "The first pick of the draft. 2 preseason games without touching the field. No official explanation from the Rams regarding the reason. What we know is that this game is the last before the roster closes, and Sterling is standing up."

The camera went to the Rams' bench.

Wyatt was standing with his helmet in his hand.

The punt from Minnesota landed on the 18-yard line, and the Rams' returner brought it up to the 31 before the Vikings' coverage team forced him out of bounds, and when the referee blew the whistle to mark the starting point of the Rams' possession, Wyatt already had his helmet on.

Weinke was by his side.

"1st and 10 from the 31-yard line," he said. "The first call is Power Right. Gurley off the right tackle side. You already know it."

"I already know it," Wyatt said.

"Execute what Fisher indicates over the earpiece. Nothing else."

"Understood."

Weinke gave him a moment.

"Good," he said.

Wyatt looked at the field he had before him and the stadium with the level of noise it had, which was the level of noise of a stadium that is not full, but that has enough people for the sound to be something that exists in a physical way in the air and not just as background, and then he went toward the field with the steps of someone who is going to do something he has been waiting weeks to do.

The Rams' offense entered the field behind him.

Zimmer, from the opposite sideline, watched him enter with the specific attention of coaches who watch the opposing team's players when that player is someone about whom they have already formed an opinion, and about whom the game is going to tell them if that opinion was well-formed.

The stadium received him with the noise that corresponds to the visiting team, which is a noise different from the one that receives the home team—not in volume, but in composition. Because the noise for the visitor has something that comes from those who want him to fail, mixed with something that comes from those who know that what they are going to see might be worth watching regardless of the scoreboard, and that mix is the specific sound that stadiums have when someone new enters the field for the first time and everyone in the stadium knows it is the first time.

Wyatt reached the huddle.

The ten who were there looked at him with the attention of those who expect what comes next, and Wyatt looked back at them with the calm of someone who knows that calm in the huddle is part of the job as much as anything else that is going to occur in the coming seconds.

"Power Right," he said. "Gurley off the right tackle side. On the snap on two."

The huddle broke.

The eleven moved toward the line of scrimmage with U.S. Bank Stadium all around and the Minnesota defense adjusting its formation upon seeing the Rams' alignment, and Wyatt behind the center with his hands in position and his eyes on the coverage that the Vikings were showing before the snap, and the referee with the ball ready and the chains on the 31, with the stadium at the level of noise it had—which was the noise of those who know that what is going to occur in the coming seconds is something worth watching—and Zimmer from the opposite sideline with his arms crossed and his attention on the very same point held by the attention of the 60 camera operators, the thousands filling the stands, and the millions watching from everywhere: Wyatt Sterling behind the center, waiting for the snap.