FOF: The Rise of the Rebels

[revrew]

"The South Shall Rise Again: The True Biography of Jeffrey Davis and the Birmingham Rebels"
BACK COVER COPY ('cause we know you don't read a book until you've read the back cover first).

The crowds chant, "Re-bels, Re-bels, Re-bels." Black men and white men wave Confederate flags in a sea of gray coats in Birmingham, Alabama. What kind of twisted scene is this?

It's the amazing story of The Birmingham Rebels, an NFL team that changed the way our nation looks at football, at race, at politics, and at history itself. But the book you're holding is also the startling confession of the man behind the scenes, the one man privvy to the strange and dark underbelly of a national phenomenon.

Now, for the first time, learn how Jeffrey Davis, the late owner of the Rebels and the descendant of Confederacy President Jefferson Davis, schemed and manipulated his way into ownership of the NFL franchise. Learn how his megalomaniacal schemes orchestrated a purging of all "damn Yankees" from the team, and learn about his insensed hatred for the New England Patriots and the Washington Redskins. Learn about Davis' insane goal of renaming the Lombardi trophy after Robert E. Lee, and learn about the real story behind Davis' untimely death.

From the confessions of Kendall Wilson, Davis' long-time partner and general manager of the Rebels, you'll gain insight not only into the workings of a storied NFL franchise, but also into the mind of a billionaire NFL owner gone mad. No, this isn't the story of Jerry Jones. It's the story of football, politics, slavery, victory, and defeat. It's America's story. It's the story of the Rebels.

Stay tuned for the unfolding saga...a new, creative dynasty from multi-award winning dynasty poster, revrew

[WSUCougar]

Black men and white men wave Confederate flags
Alrighty then.

[JeeberD]

Sounds fascinating!

[revrew]

I first met Jeffrey Davis in debate club at A&M (go Aggies!). He was the senior captain, and I was just a freshman, but Jeffrey took me under his wing right away. It was probably because I was the only other member of the team that actually agreed with the side of the debate we were compelled to argue: "The South Was Right."

What can I say? I was a young idealist dedicated to states' rights vs. the abuses of the federal government. I was a hyper-conservative who cited federal breeches of constitutionality like Brooklyn kids in the fifties cited baseball statistics. When Jeffrey saw my enthusiasm for the subject, he filled my head with speeches about equal representation, econonmic tyranny at the hands of the industrial North, and the necessity of cultural integrity. He was passionate back then. I admired him so much. I had no idea just how personal the cause was to him...or what his passion would do to him later.

We won a lot of debates that year. Of course, we didn't argue in favor of slavery, and we quickly sliced down our opponents that tried to take it there. It was important to Jeffrey that we champion the idea that slavery was on the way out, even in the South, and that the war was really about cultural--not racial--bigotry. "It was the primordial ooze of that eternally damned Reconstruction from which Southern racism arose," argued Davis. "Were it not for the insensitivity and imperial arrogance of the federal government, the good people of the South could have rebuilt our society without turning our nation into a swamp of racial tension and poverty-induced rivalry. No, how dare you blame the flower for the color you pollinate into it; how dare you blame the child for resenting his brothers when you make him a bastard!" Rarely did our debate opponents prepare for Davis' incredible rantings. Half the stuff he said was just bull, but he said it with such conviction, no one knew how to answer. It helped, of course, that Jeffrey's mother is the descendant of a slave and Jeffrey carried his mother's skin hue. It always confounded our opponents to see a black man arguing so fervently for the South!

I wonder, years later now, if Jeffrey truly understood slavery. Not the slavery of the 1800's, but the slavery of today. I wonder what he would have done if just once I had answered one of his commands with a hearty, "Yes, massah." For I, Kendall Wilson, was Jeffrey Davis' slave. And now that my master is gone, I can finally tell the story, the story of how I constructed a champion team on a foundation built by a lunatic.

[fantastic flying froggies]

sounds promising indeed...

[revrew]

Jeffrey took ownership of me 8 months out of college. He had founded an investment firm in San Antonio 2 years previous, and done very well in his first few years. By his fourth year in business, he had made his first million.

When I graduated from College Station, Jeffrey invited me to come work for him. Those first few years in business were exhilerating, riding a rocket of early success. It was my partnership with him that enabled him to make that first million.

But trouble began 8 months out of college. My wife, Melisa, became pregnant, and our insurance required 18 months of continuous coverage before covering a pregnancy. "No problem," Jeffrey told me, "my family has money to burn. I'll explain it all to Dad, and I'm sure we can cover the costs. Don't worry about a thing. Consider it an advance on the health benefits you'll receive when our firm takes on group coverage."

But Melisa's pregnancy had complications. The doctor prescribed medications and nursing care, and then Melisa delivered early. Our son, Andrew, was born 12 weeks premature. His hospital stay lasted 4 months, and all the while the doctors' bills grew into six digits.

Jeffrey said, "Look, Kendall. You have a wife and son who need you to care for them now; you can't be saddled with worrying about the cost. It's covered. It's paid for. Let it go, and go be with your family." I thought Jeffrey was a saint. I didn't suspect a thing.

A year later, Andrew was a normal, healthy boy. Melisa was well; business was doing well...all seemed well until Jeffrey called me into his office. He was sweating bullets, his tie was loosened, his shirt was stained with sweat.

"Kendall, I need your help. I need to ask you to do something. I...I didn't want this to happen; I didn't want to involve you."

"What is it?" I asked. "Are you in trouble of some kind?"

"Yes and no. No and yes. I mean, sort of, but not that kind, but--"

"C'mon, man. Tell me. I'd do anything for you," I said. I didn't realize how foolish my words were at the time.

With a pained look, Jeffrey pushed a file across the desk. "I need you make a transaction for a phantom company I set up. I can't do it. My name is too close. We've got to cover better. I've got the plan right here. If you establish this corporation, then move to sell to my phantom company..."

"Holy crap, Jeffrey! Do you know what you're saying? This has insider trading, money laundering, and tax evasion written all over it. Why would you need all this cloak-and-dagger stuff? The firm doesn't need this!"

"Yes, Kendall. Yes it does. It's the only way I see of making the money we need, fast."

"Insider trading will do that. But why do we need money?"

"Do you remember when I told you that my family was loaded?"

"Yeah..."

"And that they'd take care of all those medical bills?"

"You mean, my--"

"Yes. Well, Dad didn't agree to it. I borrowed the money out of a client's fund. But then the stock took off and I couldn't recoup what I borrowed--"

"You mean stole."

"You get the picture. I bent the rules to pay for your expenses, Kendall, and now I'm the one who's going to get screwed for it. You can't let me hang like that. Not when I did everything I could to take care of you and yours in your hour of need."

I didn't know what to say. Once I realized what he had done, I knew I couldn't just let him hang. It would be hard to prove I didn't know what he had been doing. I should have known what he was doing. But I was so focused on Melisa and Andrew at the time...

I eventually agreed, and set up the illicit transactions. The firm made millions off the scam. Jeffrey got rich.

It wasn't the last time Jeffrey used the "I paid for your baby" tool to get me to do his wishes. Through the years, he used that again and again. Until the day after we bought the Rebels. The day I confronted him...

[revrew]

"I'm not doing it anymore, you son of a--"

"Hey, is that any way to talk to your old friend, Kendall?"

"Friend, Jeffrey? Do you even know what that means? 'Friend'? Does a friend really use a friend's sick child to manipulate him into his selfish whims over and over again? It's been twenty years, Jeffrey! Let it go. I'm not going to screw over the citizens of New Orleans for you. Not now. Not after Katrina. The answer is no."

"Spare me the pity party and pretentious piety, 'friend.' I don't grieve over New Orleans. That city has been a living example of everything that is wrong with the South, everything I'm working to change. 'Line up all the black women in this district, line up all the white women in this district, then bring all the carpetbaggers down to get drunk and get their way!' I don't think so. Now, do what I tell you to do."

"Well, that's a fine attitude. But the answer is no, and what's with this heavy 'do what I tell you' crap?"

"You will."

"No, I won't."

"Do you remember, Kendall, when I asked you to cover me by setting up that phantom corporation years ago?"

"I'm supposed to forget?"

"No. You're supposed to remember. And remember well. You will do what I tell you to do, or I shall reveal what you did. You're the one who conducted the transaction. You're the one who set up the phony company. You're the one who would go to prison if you were ever found out."

"You're threatening me? With prison?"

"No, I'm just pointing out where the chips have fallen. So you can make a wise decision, instead of a stupid one."

"The chips? What about the chips where you stole from clients' accounts? Where you laundered funds to pay for Andrew's medical bills? You'd be prison-bound for that yourself."

"I'm sorry, Kendall. I had hoped we would remain friends through this. But that's no longer possible. The chips you just referred to...don't exist."

"What?"

"Let me spell it out. I never stole from a client's accounts. I payed your bills out of my own pocket. Then you committed insider trading, money laundering, and a whole host of nasty things that I will effectively deny knowing anything about. I do appreciate, however, that you set it up so that your illegal activities would benefit my bank account more than yours. It was most kind of you."

"You lied to me? Just to...to get dirt on me? To control me?"

"I'm sorry, Kendall. You mentioned deceiving you, getting dirt on you, and gathering information that will keep you in my service and confidence for the rest of your life. Yes, I've done that. But which instance are you referring to?"

His words brought back a flood of memories. From that day forward, Jeffrey owned me.

[revrew]

When Davis first approached me about managing an NFL franchise, I nearly cried. My fantasy from childhood was to do exactly that. In fact, in our office fantasy football league, I was the reigning champion, four years straight. That (and season tickets to the Texans) was as close as I ever figured I would come to the NFL.

Jeffrey Davis, however, had a plan in mind. For 6 years, our firm had handled investments and financial management for New Orleans Saints owner, Tom Benson. Benson had been trying to improve the financial situation with the Saints even before we knew him. He had even threatened to move the team to San Antonio if he couldn't get a better stadium deal. After hurricane Katrina devastated the city of New Orleans, Benson made good on his threat for a while. As New Orleans rebuilt, however, Benson grew more and more restless, especially as his financial position grew worse and worse.

That's when Davis stepped in. Davis suggested that Benson sell a share in the team and then use that money to either make a concerted effort to improve his New Orleans position or make good on his threat to move the team. Davis even offered to help grease the wheels in San Antonio if Benson chose to make the move. And who should Benson sell a 49% share of the team to? Jeffrey Davis, of course.

Davis had made hundreds of millions in the stock market and in international investing. His investments with Chinese pharmaceuticals and wind energy in India were especially profitable. When Katrina shook up New Orleans, Davis was flirting with the title of billionaire.

Many of those investments were my discoveries or my ideas, but because of our "arrangement," I remained an employee of the firm, rather than full partner. I was well-paid, but Davis made the millions.

Tom Benson was reluctant at the time to sell to Davis, but Jeffrey had an influencial friend on his side: NFL commishioner Paul Tagliabue. The media and several other organizations were breathing down Tagliabue's neck to get more African-American owners into the NFL, and Davis manipulated that pressure to leverage Tagliabue into exerting some influence on Benson.

That's also when I first met Keaton Graves. Mr. Graves was a first-class spin doctor, a master of media manipulation who had quietly garnered significant respect through his work with the Clinton presidency, though his name was largely unknown to the general public. I don't know how Graves came to be in Jeffrey Davis' employ, but nonetheless, Graves quickly became an intricate part of the Davis team. He was to Jeffrey Davis what Goebbels was to Hitler, a propagandist that masked Davis' intent in a thick cloak of benevolence. Graves' work with Davis was a magnum opus, profoundly to be admired--were it not so dispicable.

Graves, I learned, had been on the payroll for months, working hard to stir up activist groups and key media sources to put pressure on Tagliabue. Graves liked playing the race card, but never directly. He made sure Jeffrey Davis' image was always one of racial reconciliation, touting a raceless Amercian melting pot, as evidenced by his own mixed racial ancestry. "If Jefforson Davis' grandson can marry the granddaughter of a slave and their son live the American dream to become a millionaire," Davis was quoted as saying (thanks to Keaton Graves), "then let us let our painful past give birth to a new generation, living not their grandparents' struggle, but living instead our common American destiny. Let us no longer be a Divided States of 1865, but let us be a United States of the 21st century."

It's amazing that Davis could even stomach saying that, for in truth, Davis lived more in 1865 than any man, woman, or child since 1865. Davis had no intention of uniting the United States, only raising up a new and utopian South. The other states in the Union, as far as Davis was concerned, could just go to hell.

[revrew]

Tom Benson sold 49% of the Saints to Jeffrey Davis. Then, one year later, Benson GAVE Davis an additional, controlling 2% in the team. That was my first indication that I was no longer in the inner sanctum of Davis' outrageous plans. I don't know what Davis had on Benson to blackmail him, but I'm certain that's what happened. I can't help but wonder, too, what made commishioner Tagliabue so quickly bullrush the approval through. All I knew was that Jeffrey Davis was the new owner of the Saints, that no one seemed capable of stopping his plans, and that--thanks to Keaton Graves--the public adored Davis as the new savior, not just for the Saints, but for Southern pride, black pride, San Antonio pride, Republican pride, and cat-owner's pride (yes, Graves had his tentacles into every segment of the population. If there was a magazine, newsletter, or blog that had something in common with Jeffrey Davis, then positive discussion on Davis was sure to find its way into the pages).

Davis would need the P.R. capital for his next move, the one he ordered me in to help with.

The NFL rules normally state that a team has to demonstrate negative local reaction (such as a failed stadium proposal) before a franchise can move to a different city. "Draw up a stadium proposal," Davis told me.

"But the people of New Orleans can't afford stadium renovations now," I protested, "they're still cleaning up. There's no money for it."

"Yes, exactly. This much is obvious to anyone, even Tagliabue. Surely he will see the wisdom in forgoing the bad P.R. a stadium proposal would make. But at the same time, the Saints cannot play in the damaged SuperDome. That facility should be put to good use, but a football team is not a good use. The Saints will have to move."

"We can use the SuperDome," I said.

"No. No we can't. We won't. That's that. Draw up the proposal. We're moving to Birmingham."

That's when I told Davis he couldn't tell me what to do. That's when I discovered I had no choice.

[revrew]

"I'm turning over all football operations to you," Davis told me. "Though we have had a bit of a personal falling out lately, I still have tremendous faith in you as a businessman. Now, I will want to have some input, provide the general perameters and vision under which you will be working, but so long as we understand the boundaries, this team will be yours."

I have to admit, I was awed at what he was offering. I hesitated to receive anything, to take anything, to accept anything he might offer, but the little boy in me was overjoyed at the idea of running the Saints. I agreed, perhaps a bit too quickly. Not that I really had a choice.

"Here's what you need to understand, Kendall. This is not just an investment to me. This is not just a football team. Everything I have done, every investment, every decision has been leading up to this moment.

"Do you remember in debate club at A&M, when we debated the South was right? I still believe that. I still believe we should throw off the yolk of Northern oppression and secede all over again. But I also know that that's a political thing, and I have no patience for arguing with moron lawyers in Washington. I've tried some, you know. I've tried reasoning with them, but they're so brainwashed by their Reconstructionist colleges and universities that they couldn't see the truth if a rebel rifle was shoving their noses in it.

"So, I'm going to fight the Civil War all over again, Kendall. This football team will be my army, and through them, the South will rise again."

The gleam in his Napoleonic eyes told me that day that something inside Davis had snapped. If the world ever got to see the real Jeffrey, then Al would no longer be regarded as the craziest Davis in football.

"So here are the ground rules, Kendall. They are non-negotiable. By opening day next season, there will be no players left on the roster who are from Northern states. They can't have grown up there. They can't have gone to school there. Whether a Yankee by birth or by schoolin', they're all damned as far as I'm concerned. Do you understand that?"

"No. I think that's ludicrous and insane."

Jeffrey laughed. "Then you do understand it. Ludicrous or insane or whatever you want to call it, those are the rules you will play by. I want Southern players only. Texas is okay, but no one from California or anywhere else out west. No one from Kansas or Oklahoma or Missouri or Kentucky or especially West Virginia. And no one from Florida either."

"It is ludicrous. And insane. And geographically inept. Why not Florida?"

"Too many carpetbaggers. It doesn't count as a Southern state anymore. Florida's out. I want Carolinians, Virginians, and so forth. Tennessee, Alabama, Arkansas, and so forth. You got it?"

"Once again: ludicrous, insane, and I don't really have a choice here, do I?

"No. And one more thing: Don't you ever, ever lose to the New England Patriots or the Washington Redskins."

[revrew]

"Why not?"

"New England, man. New England. I know there were Minnesotans and Indianans who fought in the War, but it was all New England's fault. And Washington was the capital. And their mascots are really offensive to me. I'd rather beat those two squads in a season than win the SuperBowl, you follow me?"

"I hope not. You're going off the deep end and I'd rather return to normal."

"You don't understand, Kendall. Ever since the North invaded, my people have been spat upon, discriminated against, shut down, kept out, oppressed, lynched, and killed. Now's our chance to tackle, crush, invade, and kick their butts all over the gridiron! I want a team that will lynch Northerners on the field! I want a team that can set my people free!"

"And by 'my people' you mean..."

"Southerners, Kendall! Southerners! And black people, too. You know that racism wouldn't even exist if it weren't for Reconstruction. Why, you can't fault a flower--"

"Right, right, or fault a brother for making him a bastard. Sounds familiar. But you actually believe all that? I mean, I thought you were just trying to confuse our debate opponents. I mean, I've always agreed with the states' rights thing, but that whole analogy just seems to break down for me--"

"Don't be small-minded, man. Besides, your mother wasn't the descendant of a slave. How dare you question the expression of my being?"

"Have you been smoking something?"

"Cubans, actually. Want one?"

"No, thanks."

"Now, about the team..."

[revrew]

"I was thinking we rename the team the Confederates. The colors are red and blue, and we put the Confederate flag on the helmet--"

"Stop. Right there. You said I'd have control over football operations, right?"

"Right."

"So, let me name the team and take care of colors and all that."

"No."

"Fine. But we can't do the whole Stars and Bars thing. You'll lose a zillion on picketers and public relations and..."

"He's right, you know," came a sly, scratchy voice from the doorway behind us.

"Mr. Graves!" said Jeffrey. "Come in and join us, won't you?"

"He's right, Jeffrey," said Graves. "You can't name the team the Confederates. It would be a P.R. disaster, undo years of work preparing your people for this day."

"Well, I won't call them the Saints; that doesn't make any sense, even in New Orleans," said Jeffrey.

"Agreed. Perhaps the name 'Rebels' would suit the team better. Your meaning would be preserved, if a bit veiled, and people here do seem to resinate with that moniker."

"I like it, Graves. But do we still get to keep the flag?"

I was beginning to wonder who was really in charge here, the insane near-billionaire, or the snake of a spin-doctor he had hired.

"We won't keep the flag," said Graves. "But that doesn't mean the fans won't. In fact, some of them will catch the meaning of 'Rebels' right away and begin waving the flag at games. It will erupt in a media bonanza. They'll talk about what the flag represents, and whether the Southern spirit is well-represented by it or by the Rebels. We can work with that. We can make the fans take ownership of your cause without knowing what they're doing."

"I like it," said Davis. "But what shall the uniforms look like?"

"Oh," I said, my words dripping with sarcastic wit, "you wouldn't want anything with BLUE on it, would you? I mean, that is the NORTH's color after all."

"You're right!" shouted Jeffrey. "No blue. No blue at all. But we can keep the red. Red for passion. Red for pride. Red for rebellion. Yes, red. And then...Kendall, you're a genious. Gray! Like the old graycoats! Our colors will be gray and...and scarlet! Gray and scarlet! And on the helmets, crossed swords from Rebel calvary. What do you think, Kendall?"

"Of what?"

"Gray and scarlet! And crossed swords. Grey and scarlet, man!"

"Gray and scarlet?"

"Yes, gray and scarlet!"

"Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."

[revrew]

The hardest part of carrying out Jeffrey Davis' plan was the initial purging of Yankees from the team. I knew if I conducted a fire-sale trade bonanza, the other GMs would be on to me and give me rock bottom negotiation. I knew if I just gutted the team all at once, the fans would...

But there was my answer. The team had a new owner, a new city, and the Saints had stunk for years. It was time for a cleaning of the house. I would trade a few of the big stars that no one would understand cutting, and then I would just gut the team. There was no way I could trickle out a cutting of 35 players, so I determined to do it all in one shot and take the media hit once, rather than letting it drag on. Like Mike Ditka trading his whole draft for Ricky Williams, I was going to release 60% of the roster and be done with it.

Thankfully, a few of our key players were died-in-the-wool Southerners. QB Aaron Brooks and young LDE Charles Grant were Southerners, but most notably for the fans, stars RB Deuce McCallister and WR Joe Horn were going to stay as well.

I looked to trade away WR Donte Stallworth and RDE Will Smith early, before the cuts hit the fan, but most of the other Yankees weren't as popular with the locals. I had lucked out there.

With my plan in mind and my pride about to be buried right along with my public image, I began the purging...

[revrew]

The first trade came with the help of Keaton Graves, of all people. Through some carefully and intentionally planted lies about Donte Stallworth trashing the former Saints, we made Donte expendible in the eyes of the fans. I unloaded him without too much fuss to the NY Giants for some help on both our offensive and defensive lines--places we were going to be very sore for talent when the big cuts came.

Our second big trade made huge headlines, however, when DE Darren Howard was sent to Jacksonville for two young foundations of our future defense: SLB Darryn Smith and FS Deon Grant. The best news is that Howard was expendible with a young DE coming up to replace him in LDE Charles Grant, so the public was swayed to tout how good a deal we got without yet suspecting a thing.

The final straw, however, was trading away former first rounder RDE Will Smith. It made no sense to the team, and talk radio and shows like PTI crucified us for it. The trade did bring in WR Corey Bradford and SS Eric Brown, but the other GMs were beginning to get suspicious. Commissioner Tagliabue called me to ask why were so busy on the trade wire. I stalled the commish, but our time was up: we needed to dump.

[Poli]

Was Stallworth traded because he's originally from California?

[revrew]

Was Stallworth traded because he's originally from California?

Donte Stallworth, Sacramento, California --- Yep! Davis wouldn't allow California. "Too northern in flavor," he said. "Sure, San Diego is southerly, but it isn't the South!"

It turned out to be a decent trade, for us though. Stallworth was injured in Giants' training camp and never returned to form. Though he played for many more seasons, he never exceeded 800 yards receiving.

Thanks for asking! I was hoping I wasn't writing just for my own amusement. ;)

[revrew]

In the middle of the summer, while most teams were still in mini-camps, I cut 30 players in one day. Many of them were quality players, starters who should have been key to the team were it not for Davis' crazy rules. I feel bad for those players. Several of them found homes quickly and got into other teams' training camps. Many, however, were too costly too late in the process and had to either take huge pay cuts or slide to the CFL. A few, I'm sure, never recovered their careers. All I can say now is that I'm sorry. It wasn't personal. At least, it wasn't to me.

I was expecting a P.R. nightmare. I was expecting the new fans of Birmingham were going to scream bloody murder and betrayal. But once again, Keaton Graves was ready.

The same day I made the cuts, before news of a single cut ever hit the wires, Graves launched a major news conference and media campaign. The city change had already been made public, but Graves had held on to other information. That day, he announced the name Rebels and made a public display of our new uniforms. The media frenzy was understandably huge. But then the snake really went to work:

"The citizens of Birmingham do not deserve to inherit a new team that smells of old, with the old baggage and the old ways. This will not be the old Saints team moved to a new city. Instead, the Birmingham Rebels will be a new birth.

From this point on, consider the Rebels an expansion franchise into a new city. Many of the old players and coaches will be released to find homes elsewhere, and like an expansion franchise, we will build from the ground up. Some of the stars of the team will be retained, but most will be leaving. Yes, that means there will be growing pains in the first few years. Yes, that means victories will be hard-fought in the early stages of this conflict. But together we will build a new era of football in Birmingham! An exciting age! A new age of Rebels!"

It was a perfectly intoned speech, captivating and reassuring, like the hypnotic tones of a snake lulling its prey to sleep. Sure, the talking heads on ESPN.com scoffed and balked at the idea of emptying a team on purpose. But most of the public bought it. Some in the media hailed it as bold and daring, just the kind of brash and ingenious move that was needed to turn the old Saints organization around. I only wonder how much Davis paid them to say it.

[Poli]

Donte Stallworth, Sacramento, California --- Yep! Davis wouldn't allow California. "Too northern in flavor," he said. "Sure, San Diego is southerly, but it isn't the South!"

It turned out to be a decent trade, for us though. Stallworth was injured in Giants' training camp and never returned to form. Though he played for many more seasons, he never exceeded 800 yards receiving.

Thanks for asking! I was hoping I wasn't writing just for my own amusement. ;)

I originally thought you were talking about players who played collegiately in the South, not just southern born players. Are southern born players who play in the North allowed on the team, or is that another restriction?

Good read, I am enjoying it.

[Poli]

I found a fan:

http://www.mydjconnection.com/content/articles/2006/03/23/community/news1_thumb.jpg (javascript:thumbnailWindow('/articles/2006/03/23/community/news1.img', 372, 480))

[fantastic flying froggies]

...Thanks for asking! I was hoping I wasn't writing just for my own amusement. ;)

I'm still here and enjoying myself!

[revrew]

I originally thought you were talking about players who played collegiately in the South, not just southern born players. Are southern born players who play in the North allowed on the team, or is that another restriction?

Good read, I am enjoying it.

Thanks for the question, and sorry if I didn't make that clear. Davis' restriction was that there could be no Northern influence, either by birth or by training, so the ONLY players who were BOTH born in the allowed Southern states AND played college ball in the allowed Southern states could be on the roster.

This was the real challenge of this dynasty. It would have been too easy to see success with either Southern collegiates or Southern born, especially as the South is such a hotbed of football talent. Thus the restriction that they be BOTH. To my surprise, this became even more difficult as the seasons wore on, because apparently the FOF engine generates players with random birth towns and random colleges. As you play later seasons, a player's hometown seems to have no correlation to his college. In the real player file, a lot of Alabama boys play for the Crimson Tide; as the FOF engine creates players, those Alabama boys play for Notre Dame and Boise State.

To Froggies, ardent, and others reading: Thanks! Things are about to start heating up!

[revrew]

I want to take this moment to apologize to the citizens of Birmingham. I knew our first few years were going to be really tough. I looked over the roster of undrafted players and cast-offs that formed the bulk of our team only because they were Southerners. I told my wife, "We're going to be the worst squad in football this year." I was just thankful that neither New England nor Washington were scheduled for our first year of play. I didn't want to test Davis' threats.

That first preseason was a disaster. We limped to 1-3, with only the running of Deuce McAllister to brighten our spirits. A sudden surge of enthusiasm hit, however, at the start of the regular season.

The first season of Rebel football began at home against the Seattle Seahawks. As we expected, Sean Alexander and the Seahawks came in, running all over our inexperienced defense. What we didn't expect was the improbably fourth quarter.

To open the fourth quarter of the first Rebel game, Rebel KR Michael Lewis took a kickoff 94 yards for a touchdown. Just as the Saints were reborn the Rebels, that kickoff return gave the team new life. Quarterback Aaron Brooks and WR Joe Horn began lighting up the fourth quarter, scoring again and again. With only seven seconds left, the Rebels kicked the field goal that gave them a stunning 34-31 win.

The city of Birmingham was rockin' with enthusiasm. The Rebels, considered by many an expansion franchise, were a glorious 1-0: undefeated!

There was, however, the beginning of serious tension. At the game, some fans had come dressed in Rebel jerseys, Rebel pennants, Rebel foam fingers...and Confederate flags. Stadium security had to break up over a dozen fights throughout the stands. The extra 500 security members that we had hired kept the fights and arguments small and in check. The TV cameras didn't catch much. But the newspapers on hand weren't about to miss this juicy scoop.

[revrew]

When San Fransisco came to town the next week, the stands were crawling with reporters waiting to get their claws into some inflammatory soundbites. Many of the same, square-jawed rednecks showed up waving even larger Confederate flags, just to cause a stir. It was working, too, with the journalists and security weaving through the crowd.

Some just didn't care about the hullabaloo. One father was quoted as saying, "I'm here to watch a football game with my son, not argue politics. You see those flags at every truck stop, diner, courthouse, and school around here anyway. I don't see what the big deal is."

Others, of course, went off the deep end. Maria Blackwell of the NAACP made herself and her organization look bad with sit-down protests that were later accompainied by marijuana possession arrests.

A good stir was created, not just by the flags, but by the Rebels second victory, a surprise 17-13 defeat of the 49ers. Yes, the first-year Rebels were bad, but not nearly so bad as a few of the other teams in the league. I don't know how they did it. They must have been trying to be bad. 'Cause Lord knows Jeffrey Davis' "guidelines" were killin' us.

Despite the good feelings about a 2-0 Rebels squad, the quagmire of racial and political tensions was coming to a head. It was time for Keaton Graves to step in and do his dirty magic.

[revrew]

After the first Rebels game, Graves had called a meeting for the Tuesday after the San Fran victory. He assembled an all-star lineup of talking heads: Jesse Jackson, members of the King family, the head of the NAACP, the governor of Alabama, Commissioner Tagliabue, and so on. The star of the show, just as Graves had planned it, was none other than Jeffrey Davis.

Davis moderated an orderly line of speeches that kept him in the spotlight and made sure to make Davis look like he was the only level-headed person in the building. Clever camera work disguised any details that suggested otherwise.

Each member of a 10-member panel was given 2 minutes to voice an opinion about the Confederate flag being waved at football games and becoming an unofficial, unbacked symbol of an NFL team. Davis ran the panel like clockwork. Graves had even arranged the order of speakers so that the most hotheaded members went first, followed by gentile, articulate arguments that diffused the heat.

Each member was then given an additional minute, in turn, to refute other comments. Again, Davis ran a tight ship. No true consensus could be attained--Graves made sure of that. He stacked the panel with people far more articulate than the reactionaries who wanted to see the flag burned and the Rebels shipped back to New Orleans.

The capping moment, however, came when Davis took the microphone for himself. Davis was given 12 minutes (Graves had determined that the ideal length for maximum persuasion without desensitizing the issue) and a national TV audience to lay the matter to rest. In those 12 minutes I was reminded of the sweet, caramel voice and dazzling charisma of the man who led us to a national debate championship at A&M.

The entirety of Davis' speech can be read in Appendix A of this book, but the words that will always remain with me were: "There's no reason my grandfather's flag cannot be my brother's flag, if indeed that is how I will look upon the men around me--white men, black men, and all of God's children here in the South. So long as I see my brother as the enemy, however; so long as I see his pride in his country and state as a battle flag of my enemy, I have chosen to hate my brother for no other reason than the color of his skin. It's not the pride of the South that I would hate in that flag; it's not the courageous decisions of my grandfather that I would hate in that flag; no, the only thing I would hate in that flag is that one of those damned white men was waving it. And if he waves that flag, and it causes me to hate, who is the bigot then? Who is the hater? Is it the man with the flag? No, it would be me."

Jeffrey Davis had done it again. Did everything he say make perfect sense? No. But Jeffrey Davis had a way of saying the sky was green and the earth was flat and you'd believe it. You've probably seen some of Davis' speeches replayed on television. Right along with "I have a dream," the Black History Channel plays, "If he waves that flag, and it causes me to hate, who is the bigot then?" Do Davis' comments deserve such reverence? Heck, no. Davis was a lunatic with a brilliant spin doctor. But more about that later.

[revrew]

By the time the Rebels returned to Birmingham 4 weeks later, Davis' comments had been played and replayed, studied in school, editorialized about in everything from the New York Times to Jet. Many in the media were hoping for a quick solution to racial tension, a panacea that would issue in an interracial utopia. Many of those had (perhaps too quickly) latched on to Davis' words as the miracle cure. I considered it snake oil, but perhaps that was only because of my opinion of the snake that was selling it.

Regardless, when the 2-4 Rebels (yeah, we were getting stomped on the road) returned to Birmingham, they were met by fans purposely waving the flag...as a sign of brotherhood? There were black men in the stands that looked on the flags...and nodded in approval?

I confess, I felt like like the nation got on the carousel and left me standing on the side. What was going on? Graves propaganda campaign had been in full swing for only 5 weeks, and already the people of the U.S. were widely convinced that the Confederate flag was a sign of unity and maturity. The tide of popular opinion had shifted: "If you can't get over somebody waving a flag representing their own unique expression of history, what kind of judgmental bigot are you? Anyone with any social maturity KNOWS we're past that chapter, when a few stars and stripes could divide whole races of people. Anyone with any social conscience is above such smallmindedess."

There was even a campaign among young black men to "have the balls" to wear the flag, to show they have enough pride in themselves to not allow such a symbol to hold them in oppression anymore.

Behold the power of football. The era of Rebel pride had begun.

[revrew]

Our first year of play led us to a surprising 6-10 finish. Solid secondary play and better-than-advertised play from QB Aaron Brooks led us to some thrilling victories, including a sweep of Atlanta (that was the crazy fluke year when Mike Vick threw 23 interceptions).

The unexpected success had also led us to a $45 million dollar profit, a number I didn't expect to see again for some time. Davis, of course, was thrilled.

I didn't expect to have as much luck our second year, so I made the bold choice to submit a stadium plan to the residents of Birmingham. Playing at the UAB stadium was okay, but with Rebel pride surging, I figured this opportunity was too golden to pass up.

I was almost right. The stadium referendum failed by a 50.3 to 49.7 vote. A mere three thousand votes stopped us from building Rebel Memorial Colisseum. Our time would come, however. It was time to move into the offseason, and time to figure out how I was going to deal with the $32 million in lost cap space after the Yankee purging.

[revrew]

Aaron Brooks and Joe Horn had grown to be popular heroes in Birmingham, but Davis and I had been facing contract negotiations all year. After the first year, I laid down the line on our popular holdovers: "The Rebels are a new team. We're not the Saints, and we never will be. You two can work to make the Rebels winners, or you can go the way of the Saints. It's really up to you and want you want to do with your future. Win here, or make your money somewhere else."

Both Brooks and Horn renegotiated to long, cheap contracts that gave me some room to wiggle the cap. We did release our starting MLB from that first year, for his numbers didn't justify his salary, but finding another MLB proved to be a struggle for a few years.

When the free agency period began, I put all the eggs in a big basket by going after RDE John Abraham. When the South Carolina native signed with us, the local presses began to herald our return to sound football decisions. We also grabbed some more help in the secondary, ensuring it would continue to be a strength of ours, even if we suffered injury.

The draft, however, proved to be more challenging. When our spot to draft at #10 came around, there was no pure Southerner on the board that merited that high of a pick. If I reached for QB Marco Turtschin, I knew we'd catch it for sure. At this point, the general populace had no idea we were only playing with Southerners. I didn't want this first draft to tip it off. I didn't want other GMs to know our limitations and thus so easily plan to screw us in trades and draft strategy.

Fortunately, I knew the Redskins had an extra tackle who merited a first round pick and who happened to be a true-blue Texan. With a little hemin' and hawin', we landed tackle Derrick Dockery in exchange for that first round pick.

It wasn't a perfect trade (Dockery was a RT, and we needed LT), but everyone knew we needed a tackle and the best one was taken from the board at that point. The public bought the trade, and we moved Dockery to LT.

As it turned out, QB Turtschin was still there in the second round, so we picked him to put some heat on Brooks and keep those still critical of Aaron at bay. In the third, we scooped the rest of the league by taking the best kicker on the board, Willie Harper out of Arkansas. As bad as our kicking game was the first year (19 of 34 FGA's), again we took the best Southerner and made it look like we meant it. After that, we stretched for a few, but with the big picks out of the way, the scrutiny was a lot less heated on the later selections.

We made it through the first draft with a collective sigh of relief. Our achilles' heel (Davis' restrictions on Southern players only) was still a secret.

Rnd 2 - Marco Turtschin, QB, North Carolina
Rnd 3 - Willie Harper, K, Tulane
Rnd 4 - Lonnie Knott, WR, Duke
Rnd 5 - Maurice Prescott, P, Baylor
Rnd 6 - Gus Thomas, ILB, Virginia Tech
Rnd 7 - Ken Durham, FB, Texas Tech

AUTHOR'S SIDEBAR: The Drafting of a Legend

My first date, my first prom, my first car, my first house, not even my first day of marriage--none of these I remember clouded by such trepidation as my first draft pick as an NFL General Manager.

On one April day, my merit as a manager would be indelibly stamped with the judgment of a million sports critics and the record of history. By that first draft day, several radio stations and magazines had already scoffed at my lack of experience. Would a draft day disaster confirm that I was nothing more than an armchair quarterback, a cubicle shmuck that ought to go back to my office fantasy pool? Or could I prove myself in the cutthroat arena of the NFL war rooms?

Trading out of the first round took off some of the heat, but it wasn't my first choice. A dozen players seemed worthy of our pick, but none met Jeffrey Davis' strict criteria for true Southernism. As it turned out, Davis' restrictions on my first draft--in some odd joke and twist of the draft day gods--made my first draft one of the greatest in history.

Going into the draft, I wanted my first pick to be solid. I didn't want some talented hotshot with "upside;" I didn't want an underclassman who should have stayed in college to learn the fundamentals; and I definitely didn't want some All-American big-man-on-campus primadonna who thought the NFL owed him a living for all his talent who would flame out on drug and domestic violence charges before he made his first Probowl. I was looking for character. I was looking for leadership. I was looking for intelligence. I was looking for Marco Turtschin.

Turtschin started his senior year at North Carolina with only 2 starts under his belt. He was nowhere on the draft boards at the beginning of the season. But when the 'Heels finally gave him the reins, Turtschin proved and efficient leader who took North Carolina to the Sugar Bowl on an 8-3 record. His Senior Bowl performance elevated his stock quickly, and he impressed with accuracy and a quick release at the combine. By draft day, Turtschin was considered one of the top 4 quarterback prospects on the board.

Scouts, Inc. put it this way: "Strengths: Quick release, accurate, poised, makes quick decisions. He reads defenses well and showed he could rally his team. Weaknesses: Lacks NFL-caliber arm strength and looks a bit stiff in the pocket. He doesn't move well and tends to throw the ball away rather than make plays. Final analysis: Turtschin is peaking at the right time, with solid performances in bowl games and tryouts. He'll be taken on the first day of the draft."

I had my eye on Turtschin from the beginning, especially since Aaron Brooks' performance at QB was streaky at best. I interviewed Turtschin personally, and was impressed with his maturity. When our second round pick was on the clock, I was thrilled to see that Turtschin was still available. I knew the critics would like a QB pick. I knew Davis would like a Tar Heel. And I knew I could live with my first pick being a young man I'd be proud to represent the Rebels.

Of course, given the knocks on Turtschin's arm and mobility, I didn't think I had drafted a star. I didn't think I had drafted a Hall of Famer. I certainly didn't think I had just drafted one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time. I had no idea just how great of a miscalculation my first draft pick represented. Sometimes being wrong is oh, so right.

[revrew]

Our second season, however, proved to be everything I feared the first season would be. Aaron Brooks returned to his old, turnover-prone self, negating one of the key strengths that allowed us to go 6-10 (wahoo!) in our first year. Our offensive line fell apart, our lack of a middle linebacker (we had tried to pry Tennessee native Al Wilson from the Broncos, but they had already invested too much in him to trade him away) left us susceptible to the run, and several of our key players went down to injury in the preseason.

We started the season losing badly, but the worst of it came after the second game, a 23-20 overtime loss...in New England.

I had such incredible hopes for the game--not beforehand, for we were so banged up with injury that a loss seemed inevitable, but toward the end of the game. That first matchup against the Patriots (or, "those damned bluecoats," as Jeffrey Davis called them) came down to a matter of seconds. WR Joe Horn had played especially well, hauling in over 200 yards and a touchdown, and the defense had stood remarkably strong, leaving us with a 20-17 lead inside the final two-minute warning. With the ball in our possession, all we needed was a first down to seal the game. But New England had all its time outs, and a first down never happened. On fourth and one, still in our own territory, we punted, hoping to pin New England deep. Our rookie punter, however, shanked a 26-yarder. Two plays later, a 55-yard bomb put the ball inside our 10, and we were suddenly looking at a last-second loss. Thankfully, the defense held the Pats to a field goal, sending it to overtime.

The Patriots won the toss. The Patriots marched down the field. The Patriots kicked a field goal to win, 23-20.

Our fans were stunned.

Jeffrey went ballistic.

That was the first time the fans should have had an inkling of the madness of the man at the helm. In the visitor's luxury box, Davis turned raging eyes on every member of his entourage. He bagan flinging mixed drinks across the room (most of them at me), kicked over a couch, and even hurled a playbook so hard, the man he hit with it needed stitches.

The entire tantrum was caught on video tape (though through darkened glass, so the incident with the playbook wasn't really seen). It was broadcast on local television stations.

That, of course, was when Keaton Graves stepped in. He had built such a hero cult around Davis (and had enough of the local media in his back pocket), that Davis' rantings weren't seen as the ravings of a lunatic--which they were--but the passion of a man dedicated to his cause. Somehow, Graves turned Davis' childish tantrum into a badge of honor. While other owners were seen as eccentric or aloof, Graves' turned Davis' image into that of the common man--a man with passion, pain, and fire. Though some were put off, many bought into it. "Davis is like us, man. He didn't see the loss as so many thousands in profits to be written off like those other owners. He got pissed. Alright!"

But what would become of my career, with a loss I was warned never to suffer?

[revrew]

***Note to faithful readers***

Go up two posts, and you will see a new addition edited in. I forgot to include the "Author's sidebar" in the correct place the first time around. Please pardon the interruption and go back to read the sidebar, the title of which is highlighted in red.

[Coder]

Been reading every day... and will keep reading everyday... MORE UPDATES :)

Great stuff revrew, been subscribing to this thread since day one.

[revrew]

Coder: Thanks! And, as you requested...


A strange turn of events kept my job. For, you see, the man who was hit with the playbook and needed stitches...was me. I blacked out from the blow and was taken away by ambulance. Davis might have said, "You're fired!" but I didn't hear it.

The next time I saw Davis (back in Birmingham, for he never came to see me in the hospital), I came with a black eye and stitches across my forehead. I also came under the full advice of my attorney.

I knew Davis didn't want to admit me to his office, so I met with Graves first. I laid it on the line. Very simply, the common man image might take a blow if the public knew the full extent of Davis' little tantrum. The image might take a hit if Davis was in jail for assault, too.

Graves came around to my way of thinking soon enough. We met with Davis.

The negotiations were tense: I wanted to remain GM with a guaranteed 10-year contract and a share of the Rebel's earnings. Very simply, when the Rebels made a profit, I wanted 80 percent. And I wanted the silly roster limitation rules lifted.

Davis squirmed and ranted every way possible, including a not-so-subtle threat of violence against my loved ones. To be honest, I hadn't known him to be involved in the organized crime scene, but with Graves' record in the Clinton administration, I figured procuring a hit man might not be difficult for the Davis team.

I admit, I was shaken. Yet I stuck to my guns. I had Graves nervous, and I knew Graves had Jeffrey's ear.

In the end, a compromise: I remained GM for a guaranteed 10 years, even if we lost to New England and Washington. I remained a silent partner that absorbed no losses, but 50% of the profits. And the silly roster limitation rules...remained.

Davis would not budge on his obsession with a gridiron graycoat army. He had even taken to referring to players from "The Southern Nation" vs. players "of foreign descent." There was no way to move him.

Perhaps I wasn't going to win the Superbowl in Birmingham. But I could cost Davis a few million and make a few for myself in the meantime. That, for now, would be enough.

Our second year ended with a dismal 2-14 record, the second worst in the league. The team still made $14 mil that year, however, which netted me seven. Davis had other costs and had to pay out to the other investors...so he only made a fraction of what I raked in. The time for paybacks came one step closer.

[revrew]

The beginning of the third year was the beginning of our rise, though nothing seemed to work right away. I walked into that preseason ready to spend all the new cap room I had acquired after the penalties for cutting all the old, Northern Saints finally wore off.

The Free Agency market, however, was nearly bare of true Southerners. Most had been locked up by their teams before I could get to them. I knew the fans would be screaming at me if I didn't bring in some big free agents with the money we had available, so I went against my better judgment and laid down huge money for the only big Southerner available, 5th year tight end Randy McMichael. Thankfully, Randy signed, and I spent the rest of time signing depth and getting ready for what was going to be a huge draft for us.

A rare thing occurred that year--two blue chip prospects at the top of the draft board, both true Southerners. I knew I wasn't going to get a chance like this again, so I went to the trade board hard. I already owned the #2 pick, where I expected Spencer Knowles, the LSU can't-miss running phenom to still be available. Granted, we already had Deuce McAllister in the stable, but his contract year had come, and he was hopping mad about being stuck with a franchise tag. His future was shaky, and Knowles looked like a superstar we could build on.

But where we really needed help was at MLB. Sitting high on the draft board was C.J. Atkins, a Texas born and bred Mike backer with Hall of Fame written all over him. I cut loose the wagon and hitched it all to this young man. I traded away the bank to bring Atkins into the barn.

Finally, I searched for teams in cap trouble and found a true Southerner to anchor our defensive line. DT Marcus Tubbs was young but already proven, and his team needed to unload some salary. I put every last egg in the basket (we would have no #1 draft picks and few #2s for the next 3 years), and traded for Tubbs.

I really needed all four of these young men--McMichael, Tubbs, Knowles, and Atkins--to become stars for this team. If they bombed, so would our team...for years to come.

Rnd 1 - Spencer Knowles, RB, Louisiana State
Rnd 1 - C.J. Atkins, ILB, Texas
Rnd 2 - Brian Shaughnessy, WR, Georgia
Rnd 3 - Shannon Bensen, T, Virginia Tech
Rnd 4 - Mo McGeoghan, P, North Carolina
Rnd 7 - Joey Montgomery, DE, Texas

[revrew]

In preseason, our top picks looked pretty solid. McMichael proved to be both a security blanket and a playmaker for our sophomore QB Marco Turtschin. Atkins looked the real deal, easily winning our starting MLB spot. RB Spencer Knowles was sitting behind McAllister but chomping at the bit.

Then the regular season started...and the wheels fell off the bus. We started off right where we had started the previous year. Joe Horn was out to injury, and we dropped the first 5 games straight. The Deuce wasn't as impressive as he had been in years past, Turtschin was struggling with the starting role, and the offense went 5 weeks without topping 20 points.

For the next two weeks, Jeffrey Davis didn't speak a word to me. His silence nonetheless communicated large: we had a bye week, and then we faced the Washington Redskins.

During the bye, we brought back a healthy Joe Horn and finally surrendered the rushing attack to the rookie Knowles. When Washington came to town, we hoped the two additions would give us the spark we needed.

The big game came, and Knowles showed us on the first drive why we had drafted him. A 15- and 26-yard run, and we grabbed the lead on a McMichael touchdown grab. From there, we engaged in a dogfight. In the first half, the Skins couldn't stop Knowles, but we couldn't stop their passing attack. In the second half, the Skins keyed on Knowles, freeing WR Joe Horn to do some damage. But still, we couldn't stop the passing attack. Finally, a pair of key Redskin turnovers put us in a place to win. We got over the goalline and won the game, 27-20.

Afterwards, Davis came to me and said, "Now that's what I'm talking about! First them Yankees took the Indian lands, then they burned Southern lands, then they took that racist Indian name. Now they're taking that pigskin back home shoved so far up their #%$ they can taste it. That's the way it's done. As far as I'm concerned, your boys just won the SuperBowl."

"Your boys," he said. I liked the sound of that. We had won a big one. But we weren't done.

[wishbone]

Just wanted to say this is a good read so far, keep it up!

[astrosfan64]

LOL you have a great imagination. At first, I was like no way, I'll read this. Now, I'm hooked.

Come on Patriots beat them Rebals...

Are the Eagles involved in all this?

[revrew]

LOL you have a great imagination. At first, I was like no way, I'll read this. Now, I'm hooked.

Come on Patriots beat them Rebals...

Are the Eagles involved in all this?

Thanks, 'stro's. But, um, I think you have it backwards. You're supposed to be cheering for the Rebels! :p

As for the Eagles...not specifically. Davis' ire is reserved for Civil War era grudges. Thus, he's upset at "New England," especially since they have the gall to call themselves Patriots (when the true patriots...well, you get the idea.) Washington also earned double ire for not only being the capital of the Union, but for a name (Redskins) Davis perceives as racist.

Philadelphia, of course, was also part of the evil Union alliance, but he can't expect the Rebels to always beat every Yankee clan of hooligans.

[astrosfan64]

Thanks, 'stro's. But, um, I think you have it backwards. You're supposed to be cheering for the Rebels! :p

As for the Eagles...not specifically. Davis' ire is reserved for Civil War era grudges. Thus, he's upset at "New England," especially since they have the gall to call themselves Patriots (when the true patriots...well, you get the idea.) Washington also earned double ire for not only being the capital of the Union, but for a name (Redskins) Davis perceives as racist.

Philadelphia, of course, was also part of the evil Union alliance, but he can't expect the Rebels to always beat every Yankee clan of hooligans.

I'm a yankee stuck in the south :(. Look forward to the next chapter.

[revrew]

The next week, we traveled to 6-1 Dallas where we were 13-point underdogs. We won. Then we won again. Then we won again. We won 7 of the next 9, a tear that brought us to 7-7 after starting 0-5. The future was beginning to shine through the clouds. We dropped the last 4 to vastly superior teams, but at 7-9, we had just finished with our best season of Rebel football to date.

Of our 4 key acquisitions--McMichael, Tubbs, Knowles, and Atkins--all 4 looked like winners. McMichael finished the year with 91 catches for 922 yards and 5 TDs, blatantly overlooked for post-season honors (Jeffrey Davis blamed it on Yankee presswriters). Atkins finished with 100 tackles even, 1.5 sacks, and Defensive Rookie of the Year honors. Tubbs played solidly, and Knowles clearly defended the starting RB role from all challengers. Had he started those first 5 games, he probably would have won Offensive Rookie of the Year honors.

Excitement was starting to build in Birmingham, both inside corporate HQ and on the street. "We may not get to draft much for the next 3 years," I told a reporter for the Atlanta Constitution, "but we drafted 3 years worth of stars this year alone."

Sure, we lost $48 million dollars in our third season, but almost all of it came out of Jeffrey Davis' pocket. After the move to Birmingham, many of the Saints' part-owners were looking to sell, and after the 2-14 year, Jeffrey succeeded in acquiring nearly 100% of the team. Good thing, too. That meant he was going to take on nearly 100% of our losses over the next few years, especially with the new stadium the public agreed to give us after our upstart 7-9 year. Jeffrey was not only going to suffer through losses, he was also going to have to shell out $200 million to build a new stadium. If I was careful enough, I thought, I might just bankrupt that bastard.

[revrew]

Our fourth season began with two big newslines--one good and one bad. The bad news was that veteran star WR Joe Horn, who had been injured last year but made a strong comeback, chose to retire. I pleaded with him through his agent to give us another year or two, but Horn told the media he had just lost his fire to continue. His heart was still in New Orleans, and he returned there to devote himself to a charity he had started in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. It was a heavy blow to Rebels fans.

The good news, however, was that the voters of Birmingham approved a new stadium deal, one that would cost Jeffrey Davis a cool $200 million dollars and give the Rebels one of the finest stadiums in the league.

Unfortunately for the fans, we couldn't give them much news either in the free agency market, nor in the draft. I knew we had a beautiful crop of young players, who, given time and maturity, could propel this team to the winner's circle. I needed the money to lock up the youngsters, rather than trying to pull in vets to win now. In free agency, we brought in a few vets that fell through the cracks--mostly backups that could handle the time if we suffered injury--and we traded virtually nothin for an upgrade at fullback. The draft gave us nothing but depth (or so we thought) and hopefully, hopefully, the right guard we were desperately needing.

Rnd 3 - Lamont Carlisle, QB, Baylor
Rnd 3 - Mercury Frase, G, Small College
Rnd 5 - Toby Porter, CB, Tennessee
Rnd 6 - Ross Lewis, QB, Truman State
Rnd 7 - Frankie Warholic, DT, Houston

The fate of our season, however, would rest not on new acquisitions, but the development of the previous year's rookies and youngsters. Little did I know, years down the road, that one of our late draft picks would "volunteer" his name for the Hall of Fame.

[revrew]

Early wins (including a 14-7 defeat of New England in the preseason--though Davis told me point blank, "Preseason doesn't mean a thing. Just don't embarrass us.") boosted our confidence, but the real turning point in Rebel football came at the halfway point of our fourth season.

We were sitting at 4-3 and traveled to 4-3 Tampa Bay. We knew we couldn't catch division leader Carolina, but to make it to the playoffs we had to get into second, and that meant getting past perennial bridesmaid Tampa. It was gut-check time for our young team, as QB Turtschin's security blanket, TE Randy McMichael, was out to injury. Turtschin was showing signs of being an excellent leader and field general (though his raw talent was always suspect), but this was a big test for him.

It was a big test for the rest of the team, too. Someone had to step up and make some plays. Our defense was getting a rep for getting to the quarterback, led by our bookend star DEs, John Abraham and Charles Grant. But with Joe Horn's retirement, our WR situation was a mess. McMichael out only exposed our team's biggest Achilles heel. Someone needed to step up.

That someone was sophomore running back, Spencer Knowles. He had shown flashes before, but this was the first game that he truly took the team on his back and carried us to victory. Knowles ran for 125 yards and 3 touchdowns. Coupled with our increasingly intimidating defense, we rolled to 24-10.

After the Tampa game, confidence soared. So did the team. We finished the season 11-5 and grabbed the top wildcard spot. Only in our fourth season, and the Rebels were on their way to their first playoffs! How's that for rewarding the fans that gave us a $485 million dollar stadium deal?

[revrew]

The Rebels traveled to Dallas to face a lightning-efficient passing attack. The game was a fight to the finish. It was also a sign of things to come. Spencer Knowles was a fantastic running back, but he struggled with fumbles throughout his career. We lost that game, largely because we lost the turnover battle. Still, a 20-17 loss was nothing to hang our heads over.

The season still ended on a high, as whispers of next year hung in the air. The Rebels were a young team and figured to return many to the fray.

From a management perspective, however, the heat began to get to Jeffrey Davis. He had to shell out $48 million in a stadium payment and another $9 million in losses, for a total loss of $57 million. In two years under my guaranteed contract, I had cost Jeffrey Davis $105 million dollars. Granted, the value of his franchise, under the new stadium deal, had skyrocketed, but the cash flow beat him up a bit. You have to understand, I wasn't actually costing him money, I was just moving it from liquid assets to investing it the Rebels.

There would come a day when Davis would see the method to my madness. There would come a day when he would question just who owned the Rebels. By then, it would be too late. He would regret the day he used my sick son to make me a slave. He would regret his deceptions.

[revrew]

Before that fourth season of Rebel football (in which we made the playoffs), I had tried fervently to work out a deal with the Titans to bring 6'4 Southerner receiver Tyrone Calico to Birmingham. The Titans wouldn't have it, and so I waited.

That season, however, the Titans suffered a horrible year, driving Calico's performance and stock way down. When the season ended, the Titans were in cap trouble and released Calico to free agency. When I spoke to Calico's agent, his client was very impressed that I had gone to such great lengths to try to bring him to Birmingham earlier. His client was impressed with our upward trend, and to make a long story short, Calico signed with us for a song in the first week of free agency, before other teams even made a serious offer.

The ripples of our free agency coup spread across the media. Everyone knew we were hurting at WR, but the signing of Calico plus the re-emergence of veteran wideouts Robert Ferguson and Corey Bradford (signed to the Rebels in seasons 2 and 3 for cheap after suffering injuries and poor years elsewhere), gave us a suddenly formidable receiving corps. That veteran FB we grabbed in season 4 showed himself to be a receiving threat, and then coupled with TE Randy McMichael, young QB Marco Turtschin had more weapons than he could count.

With our holes being shored up and our young stars emerging, the Rebels became a trendy pick to win the SuperBowl. ESPN the Magazine ran a cover article featuring Turtschin, Knowles, and MLB Atkins, with the headline, "Are the Rebels Ready?". Their answer was yes, and the Mag picked us to win it all. Was that a curse, as it had been to other teams? Perhaps, but time would tell.

At the end of free agency, I surveyed the team. We had some expensive depth eating up cap space, and I knew we were getting close to being a real contender. "This could be our year," I told Davis, so I dumped some of our depth and went after one last free agent, 11-year veteran left guard Alan Faneca. With Faneca anchoring the line, we would still struggle at right guard, but the rest of the line could more than hold its own. If someone, anyone could step up at RG, I believed the O-line would plow our way to the big game.

Our draft, depleted by the trades that brought in Spencer Knowles and C.J. Atkins:

Rnd 3 - Jerald Boyle, WR, Auburn
Rnd 4 - Johnnie Wachsmuth, TE, Texas - El Paso
Rnd 4 - Toby Guthrie, T, North Carolina
Rnd 5 - Ron Cicci, QB, Small College

[Izulde]

Fantastic reading thus far. :)

[revrew]

Izulde: Thanks

Throughout season five, several players stepped up at crucial moments. In game 2, with injuries to our receiving corps, the offense sputtered, but #4 WR Dante Hall ran back both a punt return and a kicoff return for touchdowns, almost single-handedly carrying us to victory.

Unfortunately, a solid and consistent right guard never did step up that season, and we lost both of our games to conference rival Tampa Bay. The Bucs knocked us down to second in the division, but the fifth season Rebels--one of the most talented Rebel teams in franchise history--still powered to an 11-5 finish, grabbing the top wild card spot.

That squad gave us our first playoff victory, a 24-3 trouncing of Chicago in the snow. That squad also powered us past Dallas, who knocked us out the previous year. It was close (27-24), and the difference was our strength all year: getting to the quarterback. We racked up 5 sacks in that game and more than 50 that year.

Thankfully, Tampa Bay was beaten by surprise upstart wildcard Green Bay, giving us the NFC championship game at home. We had lost to Green Bay in Lambeau earlier that year, but at home, the NFC championship was a blowout, as Knowles ran for 174 yards, Turtschin completed 24 of 27 passes for 4 touchdowns, and the Oline put in its best performance of the year. 41-15 was the final score, and we looked very good going into the big game.

Though we had beaten Denver 17-10 earlier in the season, the Bronco squad that met us in the first Rebel SuperBowl was healthier and stronger than it had been earlier. Through 4 quarters, the game raged back and forth. Many still remember that Bowl as one of the best in history. Late in the third quarter, however, we began losing air in the tires. The physical Bronco secondary had knocked out Tyrone Calico, Robert Ferguson, and Corey Bradford with injury. Our top 3 wideouts were in the locker room or on the bench, leaving us with diminutive Dante Hall and a rookie to catch passes. We couldn't even field a 3-WR set. We didn't have any wideouts left.

Unable to get a big play, the battle for field position and possession time began to work against us. Denver tied it up, 17-17, as we struggled desperately to hang on.

The Bronco defense began to key in on our tight ends (we had to run a series of 2TE sets to get more receivers into patterns), taking away even star TE Randy McMichael. The Broncs brought 8 into the box, and we couldn't burn them over the top. Our third downs got longer, and we didn't have the playmakers to convert.

With little time on the clock, we just needed one more first down to take the game into overtime. We couldn't do it. We punted away, and the Broncos marched over our tired defense, and with only seconds on the clock, lined up for a game-winning 52-yard field goal. The ball sailed through the uprights as time expired, stealing away our first shot at the Lombardi. We lost 20-17.

The postseason was bittersweet for the Rebs. LDE Charles Grant's league-leading 18 sacks won him 1st team DE. Pass-catching FB Alan Ricard won 2nd team FB, and SLB Daryl Smith finally got much deserved recognition, his 8 INTS getting him 2nd team OLB. The team lost 50 million dollars (driving up Jeffrey Davis' total losses to $155 million), but more importantly...I had put a lot of eggs into the basket that year. I had wagered the future against a SuperBowl victory. When we lost, we knew we weren't going to return stronger the following year. The cap man had finally come, and it was time for the Rebels to pay up.

[Poli]

Toooo bad.

[revrew]

Our sixth season proved to be the most pivotal season in Rebels history. Owner Jeffrey Davis didn't know it, but his insanity was about to trip him up. I don't know if it was karma, or simply the law of reaping what you sow, but Davis' greatest moment of glory and the fulfilling of all his dreams was about to coincide with his darkest moment.

As soon as the NFL announced the schedule for the following year, Davis approached me. "You know what this year means, right?"

"It means we're in a heckuva lotta cap trouble is what it means," I replied. "It means we may have to cut a bunch of our star players just to get in under the cap--"

"No! No, you can't! This must be our greatest year ever! We must field the greatest Rebel army we've known to date!"

"Look, I know we came within spitting distance of the Lombardi. We gave it all we had. But to try to retool this year may not be possible."

"Lombardi?" Davis asked incredulously. "The SuperBowl would, of course, be a welcome thing, an icing on the cake. But the cake, man. Don't forget the cake."

At this point, I was beginning to suspect someone had been feeding my employer looney pills. "The cake?"

"Yes! Have you not looked at the schedule? Week 2! New England! Week 6! Washington! This is our SuperBowl year, Kendall! The Yankees are invading from the North, and this is our chance to send them packing! The South shall rise again, Kendall, and you are to do whatever it takes--and I mean whatever--to defeat our foes this year. The Patriots and Redskins, the bluecoats and the bigots, must go down. Do you understand me?"

"Very well," I replied. "As you wish."

Davis left my office, his deranged mind filled with visions of victories like so many sugar plums dancing in his head.

I, on the other hand, had known of the schedule long before Davis' incensed visit to my office. It would fit nicely into my plans. Very nicely. "Whatever it takes," he said, right?

[VPI97]

Fascinating dynasty. I'm hooked.

[revrew]

At the opening of the off-season (or, the ON-season for G.M.s like me), the Rebels were more than 13 million over the cap with only 40 players on the active roster. We had to not only shave 13 million dollars off the roster, we had to add between 6 and 13 players more!

At first, I thought our chances at defending the NFC title were slim to none. With our Oline and defensive stars aging, I grew worried that our fifth season had been as close to a Lombardi as we were ever going to get. If I had to release too many players to get under the cap, we wouldn't be able to make another run for years.

As soon as the pain of the SuperBowl loss cooled, I hit the phones hard, preaching another title run to our seasoned vets. I had hoped they would catch the fever and be willing to renegotiate into cream puff contracts that could free the Rebels from cap hell. Then I sent out the scouts to see if there was any way we could trade out some expensive reserves and/or some of our picks for underpriced, true Southerner starters.

On the re-signing front, we weren't as lucky as we'd hoped. Our players were willing to renegotiate, but only at the cost of big signing bonuses and contracts that escalated out of control. We wouldn't be able to hold the nucleus together for long. But maybe, just maybe, one more year.

On the trading front, we were able to score one of two big trades we were hoping for. Though we paid a hefty price, the Giants were willing to give up Georgia native, Split End Chester Lucido. Our scouts touted Lucido as a greatly undervalued player, one whose ability to run a precise route and catch the ball under any situation reminded some of the old guys of the Vikings' Chris Carter. Opposite Tyrone Calico with the speedy Robert Ferguson in the slot, our receiver corps got an immediate upgrade. The underperforming and injury-prone Corey Bradford was shown the door, and the carpet was rolled out for Lucido.

It was a brutal off-season. We renegotiated everybody, made some painful cuts, and negotiated down to the last week of free-agency before training camp. Then, the day before training camp began, we inked LCB Ahmad Carroll. We were in negotiation with Carroll every week for 15 weeks, but finally brought him in. Ahmad was the kind of one-on-one shutdown corner we had never had in Birmingham, and I dearly hoped he would stay healthy to finally give us a pass defense worthy of our pass rush.

Another draft, depleted by trades:
2 (31) Byron Robertson, G, VA
3 (31) Marco Graveson, CB, LSU
7 (31) Aaron Sockanathan, WR, NC State

Staying healthy, of course, was going to be the key. In order to sign Carroll, I had to make a gutsy decision. There was no more wriggle room. If we were going to bring him in, we had to make the foolhardy decision to play with less than a full roster. We couldn't afford 53 guys on the team. If injuries hit us, we would be in deep water. But I wanted a SuperBowl, and I wanted it bad. Bad enough to play the season with only 49 guys on the roster. "Whatever it takes," Davis had said. Gulp.

[Poli]

Update on my birthday. Sweet!

[revrew]

ardent: Happy Birthday! and now, for another update...

Of course, "Whatever it takes," was going to cost Davis dearly. I had no idea at the time how dearly...but I was hopeful. Davis had lost over $150 million dollars in cash since his investment in the Saints/Rebels. He barely had the money to purchase the Saints in the first place, and he certainly didn't have the money to shell out an additional $150 mil. Jeffrey's cash reserves were dried up. He was out of room to use his money to manipulate and control people any longer.

Time for him to get a bit of his own medicine.

I had worked to work and rework every contract I could. The only way to do drive our cap cost down, however, was to get small contracts up front with big guaranteed money to go with it. In the NFL, that guaranteed money takes the form of "signing bonuses," which owners must pay at the beginning of the year, before any ticket sales or merchandizing revenue comes in. To renegotiate with our veteran players, I rang up a signing bonus bill of 57 million dollars and handed it to Davis.

"57 million? I haven't got that kind of money! You need it when?"

"Now, frankly. You did say you didn't want the veterans cut. You did say, 'do whatever it takes--and I do mean whatever.' The only way to keep the veterans and stay under the cap was to give them signing bonuses up front. It was the only 'whatever' we have available to us."

"But...I thought you were supposed to be good at money management!"

"NFL teams do it all the time. I didn't do anything other managers don't do. Besides, by the end of the year, you'll have it all back."

"But what am I supposed to do in the meantime? I barely have a penny to my name besides the Rebels anymore! I don't have the money."

"Hey, not a problem. You'll have hundreds of millions coming in throughout the year. I'm sure we can simply float a loan on this. I mean that, or maybe you could sell off some of the Rebels--"

"No! The Rebels are mine! I don't want someone else coming in here and trying to draft some damn Yankees or something. I don't want someone sniffing around, getting their fingers in the mix."

"Then...a loan? It can be done."

"Whatever. You heard what I said. Whatever it takes. Just beat the Pats and Skins."

"Very well. As you wish." The next day I brought in papers from a small bank, granting Davis a loan for $60 million dollars. Davis signed it without looking at it. He was too busy playing Front Office Football with the updated rosters, trying to sim a season in which the Rebels beat both the Patriots and the Redskins.

What Davis didn't realize was that the loan was from a small bank that was started only 3 years earlier...by me. Davis essentially took out a loan...from me. I didnt' have $60 million myself, but my bank could float it, and so it did. The terms of the loan were simple: the day after Davis made his $48 million dollar stadium payment, the full $60 million was due. As collateral in case of non-payment, the bank would agree to take a 49% share in the team instead of payment. Even if Davis defaulted on the loan, he would still be owner, but Kendall Trust Lmtd. would be a 49% partner.

[revrew]

Our first few weeks of season six were filled with crucial games. Tampa Bay was considered by many to be our biggest threat to an NFC South title, and we faced the Bucs in week 1. A hard fought defensive battle gave way to our 12-6 overtime win, putting us a game up on the Bucs all year--a game that had playoff significance by the end of the season.

Game two, of course, was our matchup against New England, a team that would prove to be the class of the AFC. Prior to the game, however, some key events began to rattle the Rebel cloisters of power.

Keaton Graves had been struggling to keep the egg off Jeffrey Davis' face. Davis, who had so secretly masterminded his Southern ambition in the early Rebel years, was beginning to get cocky. He had let his ambitions and his political leanings slip in a few bastions of power and country club lunches, and Graves was spinning madly to keep the madman from monologuing his way into trouble. Just as the evil mastermind in comic books and cartoons has to tell the world of his evil genious or he'll bust, Davis was beginning to pop at the seams, looking for someone to pat him on the back for his plan of Southern conquest.

Before the Patriot game, Davis couldn't keep it in any longer. In a public interview on a non-related subject, Davis let it slip in that he was looking forward to "those damn Yankees" coming to town to get "a proper Southern welcome; welcome to go home!" The words got leaked onto SportsCenter, who thought it was fun and games, a tongue-in-cheek story with a wink-wink toward its ability to draw up ire in our "enlightened" day.

Apparently, SportsCenter underestimated both the offense the Patriots would take and the fervency of Southern pride. A couple of the Pats players spouted off about the comments, followed by a rally behind the flag in Birmingham before the game. Suddenly, the pot was stirred.

The police were called in again to Rebel stadium the day of the game--this time, not because of racial tension, but because of geographic rivalry. There were more fights in the stands between Confederate flag wavers and Boston fans than there were in the first couple of tension-filled Rebel games. People came to the game dressed in graycoats and were told by guards they had to leave their muskets at home. "Go home, Yankee" banners and "American by birth, Southern by the grace of God" banners were everywhere. It was a nightmare. It was exactly what Jeffrey Davis wanted all along.

"Finally," he said in the luxury box, "Southerners standing up for their ground against these Northern aggressors."

Keaton Graves, however, was lost. For the first time since I met him, Graves didn't know how to spin out of a sticky situation. Davis was manageable when his ravings and opinions were kept quietly behind a mahogany desk. But when he showed up at the game wearing Jefferson Davis' military dress hat, Graves days of spinning and hiding the truth were over.

[revrew]

The New England game itself was littered with fights, unnecessary roughness calls, and even an ejection. The game was looking tough for the Rebels until Birmingham strong safety, Eric Brown, ripped off a 93-yard fumble return for a touchdown. The momentum shifted, propelling us to a 31-23 win.

In the week that followed, an investigative reporter from Sports Illlustrated finally got the dirt.

The phonecall came to my office the Monday after the New England win. "I'd like to ask you a few questions about the Rebels," he said, and we arranged a lunch meeting.

"Is it true that every player on the roster and every coach graduated from a college in the South?"

"You could probably find that information online," I said.

"I have. And it is true."

"Then why ask what you already know?"

"And is it true that every player on the roster and every coach also grew up in the South?"

"Sounds like you've done your research on that, too."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are they all from the South, and NONE from north of the Mason Dixon line?"

I stared at him for a moment. I had mulled over my answer to this question or years, waiting for it to finally come. "I'm sorry, is that against the NFL rules?"

"Well, no, but it seems this is something you've done intentionally. It's got to be more than a coincidence; someone must have orchestrated this."

He couldn't have put it any more succinctly for my purposes. "Are you going to do a story on this?" I asked.

"You'd better believe it."

"Then make sure you quote me very carefully here. Here, use my pen. Write this down, word for word. You said, 'This is something you've done intentionally. It's got to be more than coincidence. Someone must have orchestrated this.' To which I answer, 'No, this is not something I have done intentionally.' Write that down. I'll wait. No, this is not something I have done intentionally. Yes, it's got to be more than a coincidence. Yes, someone must have orchestrated this."

"Who then?"

"When you find the answer to that, young man, then you'll have the story you're looking for. I have nothing more to say. Good day."

I got up and left. By Thursday, the young man had the front cover article on Sports Illustrated, "Jeffrey Davis and the Real Rebels". If only he knew the half of it.

[revrew]

On Friday of that week, I summoned all the Rebels players and staff for a meeting. My exact words weren't recorded, but I said something like this: "By now many of you have heard or even read the most recent Sports Illustrated. The cover article, as you know, makes a claim that Rebels owner Jeffrey Davis has hand-chosen you to be members of this team because you are all Southern natives who have graduated from Southern colleges."

"This undeniable claim," and there I paused to allow the words to sink in, "will likely cause a media frenzy, a flurry of questions unrelated to football, and quite possibly an ownership battle at the end of the season. There will be much to distract you if you let it.

"Now, some of you will be outraged by this revelation. Others won't care. Others may even be proud to be an all-Southern squad. From this point on, however, discussion of this reality is forbidden. Any player attempting to speak in support or opposition to what is an unchangeable reality at this time can expect his pay to be docked down to minimum. Fines and suspensions will follow that. Don't push me. This is not an issue for discussion. If, at the end of this season, you believe a grievance needs to be addressed, I will welcome you to come into my office and discuss it. But not until the offseason. Until then, you are players bound together by contract and by the will and ability to win.

"It is also not an issue for discussion, however, because I did...NOT...pursue you players or you coaches because of your Southern heritage. As General Manager, I did...NOT...settle for you because you're from the South. I sought out you, Daryl Smith, because I believe you are the best Sam backer in the NFL. I sought out you, John Abraham, because I believe you are the best defensive end in football, except maybe for Charles Grant over there. When we drafted you, Spencer Knowles, it was because we believed you would be a superstar in this league. When we traded for you, C.J. Atkins, it was because we believed you would be an all-star middle linebacker, one every bit worthy of a top 5 pick.

You all have been assembled by your owner because you are Southerners. You have been assembled by your general manager because you are, in my opinion, one of the most talented teams of players and coaches ever assembled on an NFL playing field. There is nothing, and no one, that should stand in your way of winning a SuperBowl title this year.

Your opponents will ridicule you this season for being a freak squad. Listen to me now. The best way to shut them up, is to hoist the silver Lombardi trophy. If you refuse to be distracted by your owner's shennanigans, that is what you will be doing in January."

A question arose from newcomer Ahmad Carroll: "Why did you participate in this half-baked strategy? Why did you..."

As he struggled to put words to it, I answered him with a question of my own: "If commissioner Tagliabue suddenly went off his rocker and required all cleats be fitted with pink shoelaces to support breast cancer research, would that be...crazy?" The team nodded. "A half-baked idea?" The team nodded again. "But would you all suddenly stop playing football, break your contracts, and step away from your chance this year of winning a SuperBowl? No, you'd go along with the nutcase in charge if that's what it took to play this game. I think you can see the point of my analogy."

From that day on, until our season was over, no player spoke of the all-Southerner thing. Not to each other. Not to the media. The players instituted a Denver offensive line-like gag rule. On the field, they determined that any team that wanted to make a fuss would simply have to be sent home crying while the Rebels went on to victory.

[revrew]

When week six rolled around, the Washington Redskins rolled into Birmingham, and went abruptly packing, a 27-13 loss tucked between their legs. Davis had gotten what he wanted, victories over New England and Washington in the same year. As far as he was concerned, we had already won the SuperBowl. "Finish off this year and make me proud," he said to me. At that point, I had gone back to being his "ol' friend" again, but I had not forgotten. I had not forgotten the way he sneered "friend" at me when he told me of how he had manipulated my son's premature birth to blackmail me. I had not forgotten how he ripped the heart out of the people of New Orleans. There was no word "friend" left in my vocabulary for Jeffrey Davis.

The team finished very strongly, many players playing hurt because of our lack of depth. We finished an impressive 13-3, wrapping up home field advantage for the playoffs. The Stars and Bars would be flying, no matter who came to town, and the Rebels were on the edge of the greatest moment in their short history.

Behind the scenes, however, commisioner Tagliabue and some reactionary congressmen were stirring up a hornet's nest that would plunge Jeffrey Davis and the Rebels into a quagmire of controversy.

[revrew]

At the end of the regular season, Jeffrey Davis was required to make a $48 million dollar stadium payment to the contstruction crew working on our new stadium. With our successful season, Davis easily had the cash to do so.

The next day, however, a team of bankers and lawyers from Kendall Trust Lmtd. showed up for a meeting with Davis. As soon as they arrived, I left for a string of agents meetings on the west coast, so I only heard of the fireworks that ensued when Davis learned he had just lost 49% of the team.

Yet that night, I received a call on my cell from Davis himself. "You swindler," he sneered.

But I was ready for it: "Quit your crying, Davis. You remember what you said, 'Whatever it takes.' This is what it took. But you really have no cause for complaint. It was a simple business transaction, and a win-win transaction at that. You got what you wanted: victories over New England and Washington (and a legitimate shot at a SuperBowl to boot), and I got what I wanted, a slice of the team. It's simple, and good for everybody concerned. Besides, it's like you always said, 'You can't blame a flower for the color you pollinate into it.' What else did you expect of your underlings, o fearless leader? This is the color you pollinated."

There was a pause. Then a laugh. A hearty, gut-wrenching, tension-releasing laugh on the other end. "I suppose you're right! What can I say? I taught you to be a scheming bastard, and now that's exactly what you are! Very good. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"You do realize, however, that as part owner, I can no longer shield you from your losses. Our little 'arrangement' regarding profit sharing is null and void."

"Yes, I realize that."

"So at the rate of losing $50 million a year, 49% of which you're responsible for, how long are your reserves going to hold up? Can you float those kinds of losses?"

"Still you underestimate me, Jeffrey. Do you really think the Rebels are going to lose $50 million next year? Most of our players are all locked up nicely with bonus money you've already paid them. We'll be doing very well shortly, and with home field advantage through these playoffs, I'll gladly sit back and enjoy half the ticket sales."

Our conversation ended shortly thereafter. Davis had found a new respect for the man he once called slave. Now we were partners, peers, and adversaries. Davis didn't realize, however, that he had underestimated me once again. For very shortly, one of those three roles was going to change.

[revrew]

The first week of playoffs was our bye week, and one we desperately needed. Not only did we have players on the mend (QB Turtschin's throwing thumb was severely sprained and swollen up like a Louisiana lobster), but we needed some of our opponents to suffer some attrition before they got to us. Notably, our first opponent, Tampa Bay.

The Tampa/Birmingham rivalry had really heated up over the past two years, as our two teams were widely considered the best in the NFC, unfortunately planted in the same division. The previous year, their division win forced us to play wildcard, even though we had the second best record in the conference. This year, we had done the same to them.

Tampa's passing game had eaten us up in previous years, but the Buccs were without tight end Tony Gonzalez (due to injury), enabling us to get by them, 26-15. Our QB, Turtschin passed 18-26 for 269 yards and a pair of TDs, despite his thumb. Turtschin's leadership on the field and grit-iron persona had made him Rebel fans' most celebrated and honored hero. Looking back, Turtchin's numbers were never exceptional, his talent was always a bit questioned, but like many other great quarterbacks, his intangibles and charisma with the fans cause his name to live on in reverence to this day.

Our second game was against Minnesota, the Vikings coming to town for our second consecutive Birmingham-hosted NFC Championship game. The game itself was really rather dull, despite its 45-13 score. Our defense dominated Minnesota, pinning them deep and creating turnovers that consistently gave our offense a short field. Don't let the 45 points fool you; the Rebels had become a defensive superpower. Many people knew the names of our offensive stars, but the defense--DEs John Abraham and Charles Grant, LBs Daryl Smith and C.J. Atkins, our three-headed safety monster of Smith, Grant, and Brown, and many others--was the heart and soul of that Rebel team.

The 45-13 drubbing we gave the Vikings had us riding high. Even Jeffrey Davis was loosening up his scowl and enjoying the success.

Davis would have a whole new reason to scream and shout, however, following the AFC Championship game. Since week 2 of the regular season, the animosity and political uproar over the New England Patriots/"Yankees" vs. the Birmingham Rebels/"Graycoats" had never stopped raging. Though the Rebel players abided by their own gag order, that didn't stop the media and politicians from making all kinds of commentary. Now the commentary would heat up again.

After winning the NFC Championship game, the Rebels had earned the right to play in the SuperBowl...against the New England Patriots.

[revrew]

The hullabaloo leading up to that SuperBowl was one of the loudest and grandest in NFL history. Some in the media dismissed Davis' comments from earlier as being "blown out of proportion" and poked fun at the Rebels vs. the Patriots, calling it a "North vs. South, Blue vs. Gray all over again." T-shirts were made up on both sides, all in good fun since everybody knows, "We're all past that by now."

But apparently not everyone knew it. Others declared the entire thing an outrage. There were some who tried to return to the "golden days" of villifying white Southerners and Confederates as rednecks and racists. The point struggled to gain much momentum, however, since the focal point of their villification was Jeffrey Davis...who, needless to say, was black himself. That didn't stop some glory hounds in congress and Hollywood from boycotting the SuperBowl and making grand fools of themselves. (In my opinion, politicians and movie stars really are experts at doing just that).

For most of the country, it was like watching a Civil War reenactment. Most folks cheered for the Patriots, while only those that took the time to read something besides spin-doctored high school history books looked with any favor on the scarlet and gray. For those whose grandfathers and great grandfathers died in the original Civil War, there was a twinge of sadness and honor in the proceedings, but most considered it a fun jaunt into reliving the past.

Leading up to the game, Keaton Graves was working feverishly to keep Jeffrey Davis out of the spotlight. The once golden-tongued champion of the "New Black America" had definitely fallen out of favor, besmirching the NFL with his Southerner plot the way Pete Rose besmirched baseball with his gambling. NFL purists looked upon Davis with disdain, the way they looked upon designated hitters in the 70s or interleague play in the 90s. In their eyes, Davis had somehow profaned the great institution of football and needed to be summarily dismissed, if not beheaded for his offense.

The average fan, however, picked up the Patriot blue or Rebel gray and cheered for his or her geographical persuasion. Sports bars across America took sides as "Patriot Outposts" or "Rebel hideouts." Davis thought it was the fulfillment of every dream and grand scheme he had ever hatched. It was good thing Graves kept him out of the spotlight, for his diabolical need to monologue the twisted brilliance of his was out of control:

"At last! An opportunity to prove our cause on a national stage, no an INTERnational stage, some 100 million people watching, as the Confederate army rises again to take her place among the victorious of the world! To right what was wronged, to avenge Atlanta, and to give peace to our fathers and forefathers who gave their lives defending our Southern homeland from the hordes of Northern aggression. Rise up, O sons of the South, and set her free!"

On and on he raved; but thanks to Keaton Graves, he raved behind closed doors. The day would come, however, when Graves wouldn't be able to contain Davis any longer.

[revrew]

At last, the day of the big game came. New England strolled into Atlanta (the site of the game) boasting a 1700-yard rusher and a 4000-yard passeer, an offense that was capable of grinding opponents into the ground. The defense, however, especially without the services of star DE Trevor Pryce because of injury, could give up plays, especially in the passing game. The Pats were a formidable foe and came into the game a 3-point favorite.

After all the hype, however, the game itself was anticlimactic. By halftime, the Rebels had amassed a 27-0 lead. Our offense was firing on every cylinder, but our defense once again was the story of the day. At the half, New England's league-leading rusher had been held to 11 yards. Our linebackers brought back memories of the Ravens' only championship team, filling every gap, tackling carriers behind the line, and still managing to cover the short-passing game.

At the opening of the second half, it appeared New England was going to turn things around. They drove from the opening kickoff all the way down to our 8-yard line, where they faced a 4th and 1. To this day some have questioned their coach's decision not to get those first 3 points, but down 27-0, the Pats needed to make up ground faster than a field goal. On 4th and 1, Rebel OLB Daryl Smith charged in on a run blitz, only to find the QB pulling a play action. Untouched, he streaked through the line, past the running back, and hammered their QB, driving him down for an 8-yard loss.

The game ended a 34-3 drubbing, Spencer Knowles rushing for 100, Smith amounting an 8-tackle, 2-sack, 1 forced fumble game, and QB Marco Turtschin (who won MVP) throwing for 2 TDs and scrambling in a third. New England was a better team that that. They really were. But on that given Sunday, the Rebels destroyed them with ease.

I had built a championship team. I had done it with crazy restrictions placed on me by a megalomaniacal owner. Somehow, that fact made the victory even sweeter. Since I was a zit-faced teenager, I had dreamed of managing an NFL team. Now I had lived my dream, and lived it to its fullest...or so I thought. Better things were yet to come.

For Jeffrey Davis, the 34-3 crushing was a dream come true as well. The Southern fans who took up the "Yankee, go home" tauntings were exactly what Davis had in mind. I think somewhere in the dark and twisted recesses of his mind, he fully expected the South would secede that night.

Such was obvious in his comments after the game. After every SuperBowl, when the Lombardi is getting passed around, players, coaches, managers, and owners are invited on to a little platform to hoot and holler. Turtschin gave a tough and heart-felt salute to his teammates, something that endeared him to Birmingham fans forever. Daryl Smith lended a "we are the champions" swagger, and coach gave his usual, short answer, a man of few words if there ever was one.

I, however, didn't climb the stage. I knew what was coming. I congratulated the players, then slowly slipped away to the locker room office. I knew the tide was about to turn, and I didn't want to be anywhere near it. In fact, years earlier I had signed and notarized documents--placed into a safety deposit box--detailing my desire to be distanced and many objections to Davis, his scheme, and his restrictions on managing a team.

I won't go into great detail on his comments after the game. His ranting about the "evil, imperial empire of the United States" and "Southern brotherhood above all" carried headlines throughout the country. A couple of times, the sportscasters in the booth tried to cut Davis off, for the embarrassing display, but ABC executives knew a newsworthy story. This one was being broadcast live, exclusively on ABC. With his comments, Jeffrey Davis thought he was giving birth to a new nation, the Confederate States of America. What Davis actually did was alienated every ally he had and seal his own doom, both professionally and personally.

[tucker342]

fantastic dynasty rev... keep it up! :)

[fantastic flying froggies]

+1

[revrew]

The celebration in the locker room was ecstatic, with champagne and music and dancing and high-fives and so on. The media covered it for about 15 minutes, then took their cameras and went home. I waited until the last reporter had left. Jeffrey Davis, who had never really cared that much about the players individually, hadn't even come into the locker room once his grandiose speechifyin' was wrapped up on the main stage.

I could tell there were some on the team who didn't let Davis' comments disturb them a bit. They were celebrating a championship and letting the non-football jokers be jokers. Most, to be honest, fell into this category. And while no one seemed truly disturbed about Davis' foolishness, there were a handful whose enthusiasm was curtailed a bit. Some had mixed feelings. Sure, we had just won the SuperBowl, but for who? For Southern revolutionaries? For a nutcase owner? Or for ourselves? It was time to celebrate, but were there other implications? And for those whose contracts were up, would we really be willing to play for Davis again?

After about 35 minutes of whooping and hollering, as some of the guys were stepping out of the shower, I stepped out of the office to address the team. I asked them all to finish showering and getting dressed, and before they left, I asked to address them all, if they would just hang on until everyone was ready.

About 15 minutes later, the players were out of the shower and either dressed or in the process. Again, I made another important speech:

"You have just proven yourselves the greatest football team in the world." The team let out a cheer. "Your owner has just proven himself to be...off his rocker." Laughter. "The time for speeches came, but now is swiftly leaving. Jeffrey Davis' speech came, and now is over. His ownership, consequently, may also be over." Mumbles and whispers. "I am very sorry, for your sake, that you lived and played under the cloud he cast over this team. But that cloud is lifting. In winning this SuperBowl, you shot rays of light through the palor, you proved you were men of mettle who could win under any circumstances, and even if you owner has dishonored himself, you have left no question that you are men of honor, of valor, of courage, and of victory!" Shouts. "Let not your hearts be troubled by Jeffrey Davis. His storm shall quickly pass, but not your glory here this day. 34-3, gentlemen. 34 to freakin' 3!" Shouts. "In every stable there's manure, gentlemen. That doesn't mean the horses that live there aren't champions. You, gentlemen, you are champions! Go forth and celebrate!"

As the men left in a whoop and holler, a few stopped to shake my hand on the way out. Davis did everything he could to damper this celebration, but for a few of the guys, I had just given them their championship back. They could celebrate in freedom. And if everything worked just right, the Rebels would soon be free from Davis completely.

(P.S. to tucker and fff --- thanks!)

[thealmighty]

See, the problem with this dynasty is that it's like a TV show. Every post leaves something to look forward to...and then the wait. Actually, it's worse than a TV show 'cuz, unlike a weekly show, I don't know when I'll get my next fix.



(Enjoying this greatly, rev. Keep at it.)

[revrew]

The next day, a hefty brief landed on commissioner Tagliabue's desk. The contents of that brief have never been made public until now. Contained in that file were copies of my dated and notarized objections to Davis' roster restrictions stemming back years, transcripts of recorded conversations where Davis implicated himself in purposefully undermining the NFL's tradition of fair play, and a letter from the Rebel's part-owner (me) requesting the NFL act to ban Jeffrey Davis from being a controlling-interest owner in an NFL franchise.

Not 20 minutes later, I received a call from the commissioner. He informed me that certain members of Congress had already contacted him regarding an investigative commission to determine whether Davis could be charged with treason against the United States of America. I, in turn, informed Tagliabue that anyone seeking to remove Davis from a position of influence might be better served by investigating his investment holdings and purchasing in certain foreign markets, instead.

For the next 3 months, the inquiries and meetings and petitions dragged on. The Congressional hearings, in which both Davis and I were questioned, concluded without much significant action. Many of the congressmen were too intimidated by certain free-speech groups to pin down Davis' words as actually insighting insurgence against the government. In fact, the notion that Davis be subjected to psychiatric evaluation received more support than charging him with any crime.

The IRS investigation did, however, result in 3 indictments on charges of money laundering and foreign investment fraud, charges that are probably still caught up in litigation to this day.

The most significant meetings occurred between NFL owners. The owners of the Patriots and Redskins were adamant that Davis be banned from football altogether. And while most agreed that Davis had given the NFL a black eye, some questioned the NFL's authority in setting a precedent of seeking to remove a man from ownership. In the end, it came down to a close vote. Of the 29 owners that had gathered to discuss them matter, 17 voted that an owner acting in a way shameful to the league and in violation of fair play could be required to surrender controlling interest, while his investment itself could not be removed from him without compensation. Consequently, the NFL owners agreed to purchase 3% of the Birmingham Rebels, thus reducing Davis' share to 48%.

But what, some asked, would happen if Davis refused this purchase offer? Thankfully, I was at the meeting of the owners to help them gain an understanding of Davis' mindset. I suggested that, very simply, if he refused, the NFL would disqualify the Rebels from their SuperBowl victory and give it to New England by default.

You could have heard a pin drop. You could practically hear the jaws drop. "It's as powerful as a trump card, and not just a bluff," I explained. "The most precious and dear possession Davis has is not the Rebels, but a Southern victory over New England in the SuperBowl. He doesn't value the Rebels nearly as much as he despises the Patriots. He would never, never consent to forfeiting his Southern Lombardi to the Patriots. AND," I continued over some protest, "even if he should agree to the forfeit, it would not be entirely out of line. For the Rebels were formed in an unsportsmanlike fashion this season. It wouldn't be out of line with the NFL ethics and fairplay standards to demand the Rebels forfeit the entire season, really. You need not consider this threat a bluff, for you could actually do it. Though you can rest assured, the threat alone will be enough to persuade Jeffrey Davis."

The resolution was passed, and 3 days later Davis was presented with the ultimatum: give up control of the team by agreeing to a 3% buyout, or forfeit the season and the trophy to the Patriots.

[revrew]

On February 27th, justice was finally served to Jeffrey Davis. He agreed to give up control of the Rebels. Somewhere in the strange world inside his head, he rationalized that he had achieved all his goals and victories, and control of the team wasn't necessary any longer.

On February 28th, however, I received a visit from Commissioner Tagliabue. It seems the NFL ownwers were not entirely satisfied by my documented objections to the way the Rebels had been run. As majority owner, I was still under suspicion, even probation. Tagliabue then clarified yet another ultimatum: "So long as you renounce the 'South Shall Rise Again' agenda, and so long as you immediately bring in players from a variety of colleges, including Northern and Western colleges to start for your team, the NFL will throw its 3% ownership behind you. But should you carry on the Southern agenda, the NFL will extract Jeffrey Davis' 48% and use its combined 51% to oust you from power. Do we have an understanding?"

"Of course," I replied. I considered the ultimatum fair, though unnecessary. Among my peers in the NFL G.M. pool, talk had already turned to how twisted, undeserved, and really invalid my SuperBowl victory had been. The only way to restore my credibility, my record, and my pride was to win another SuperBowl, but this one with a roster that could pass any scrutiny. I inteneded to show not only the other G.M.s, but now my fellow owners, that I was the architect of one SuperBowl winner, and I could do it again--even if I had to do it with all Northerners.

I didn't need such a stipulation upon me, however. No, I would be fair in my construction of the team, but that doesn't mean I wasn't presented with some problems.

For starters, Jeffrey Davis had made a good point about my financial situation. I had 7 million dollars left from that first year of profit sharing. If the team lost any more than $14,285,714.28, I would be broke. My 49% share of the losses would break me. With a 3-year track record of losing $50 million a year, my projections weren't good. But so long as I could financially stay afloat, I could continue my quest for a second SuperBowl.

My other big problem was my relationship with the other G.M.s. Most of them felt scorned, used by my frequent trades. With each trade I had hidden an underlying agenda: get Southerners. Now every manager looked on me with suspicion. Was I still garnering Southerners? Would I overpay for Northerners now? What other agendas was I hiding? I discovered early, when I made a call to Baltimore about trading away a Rebel who was costing us too much in salary, that other GMs weren't going to let me keep trading away. For every offer I made, the other GMs either flatly refused or demanded outrageous compensation in return. In essense, I had been blacklisted by the NFL managers. Not until the Rebels won their second SuperBowl was I ever able to make a trade with any other NFL G.M.

[RedKingGold]

BTW, Really enjoying this dynasty.

Keep it up!

[revrew]

Our first season without Jeffrey Davis' control was not nearly as much fun as I had hoped. The best operating projections on earnings suggested we were in deep financial straits. The only way I could avoid bankrupting myself by the end of the year was to deny my urge to re-sign our players for another SuperBowl run. If I spent the money on signing bonuses to re-sign our best players, I wouldn't have it to pay the salaries at the end of the year.

Thus, we started penalized again. I watched helplessly as three of our starting O-linemen defected to sign with other teams that could offer juicier contracts than we could. I had to slap the franchise tag on TE Randy McMichael to stop him from escaping, but in doing so I knew it would be his last year with us. The same would be true of DE John Abraham, who was the heart and soul of our defensive menace. While we could keep him for one more year, the signing bonus he wanted to extend his contract just wasn't there. He was asking for a $16 million bonus--reasonable money for a star of his caliber--but I couldn't afford it.

I also had to hike the prices on our fans. It wasn't something I wanted to do, especially with all the hard feelings over the Jeffrey Davis fiasco. But if I didn't act to stop the bleeding losses, Davis might have found himself back in a controlling interest.

The offseason, therefore, was littered with no inspiring news whatsoever. We watched helplessly as players that could have truly benefited the squad dropped from the free agency board.

Meanwhile, the NFL watched closely to make sure I kept my promise to integrate Northerners into the team. In the eleventh week of free agency, the Rebels signed their first Northern player, RT Trevor Hanshew from a hometown in Utah and a graduate of Stanford. Interestingly, our first round draft pick was also a Utah-bred Stanford graduate.

The draft left us in an odd position. No GM would hear my desperate pleas to move up in the first round and get the tackle we needed so badly. When our pick came around, we needed to draft need as well as best available talent. We also needed to pick cheap. This left us with going after an odd choice, fullback Dave Chambliss. The draft report looked like this:

Rnd 1 - Dave Chambliss, FB, Stanford
Rnd 3 - Jerald McGregor, T, Arizona
Rnd 4 - Corey Wilkins, P, Memphis
Rnd 5 - Lenny Oxford, DE, East Stroudsburg
Rnd 6 - Conrad Reilly, T, Rutgers
Rnd 7 - Ethan Hoffman, WR, Maryland

Not until deep in the draft did we take players from the Northeast, but the Western players satisfied the NFL. OUr only deep South pick, punter Corey Wilkins proved to be an incredible steal at the end of the 4th, as he quickly matured into one of the best punters in the league.

The Sporting News gave us an "A" for our draft, but I was skeptical. We didn't come close to replacing the talent we lost in the desperate attempt to save money.

(p.s., thanks to almighty and RedKing! I love hearing from readers, and by the way...even though the parameters of the challenge have changed--now based on money with a no-trade rule in place--don't think the drama has fizzled. I have completed this dynasty already, so I know where it's going, and the heat's still on. Jeffrey Davis ain't dead yet!)

[revrew]

As the year wore on, we struggled to a 9-4 record when injuries decimated the team, leaving us scrambling to sign players. Our stars were out, our line was gone, and anyone trying to play offense was left open to be fresh meat in the grinder.

An easier schedule at end of season enabled us to limp to 11-5, and with Atlanta's surprise loss, we won the division. Most importantly, that gave us a bye in the first round, which we desperately needed to heal our banged up lineup.

Even with the bye, we were forced to play our first playoff game without the help of John Abraham, CJ Atkins, Ahmad Carroll, or Marco Turtschin, who were all still out to injury. It's no surprise we lost to Giants, 20-12.

The surprise came at the end of the year, when the last of the payments were due. We had flirted with insolvency all year long, trying to stop ourselves from losing 14 million dollars--which would have bankrupted the 7 million I had reserved to finish the season (my 7 mil in reserves minus my 49% share of the losses). When the final cash register tolled, the team had lost 12 million. We made it. But barely.

In the next year of operations, I could lose no more than 2 million. I had one million left in the bank. That was it.

[revrew]

As the dawn broke on our next season, the sun rose into a heavy cloudbank. Our future was fuzzy, and there wasn't a single ray of hope shining through.

I had hired a cap manager and several accountants to crunch some serious projections and numbers for me. They brought back to me several scenarios for the upcoming season. The worst case scenario placed me at being broke before we even got to the draft. The best case scenario demanded I refuse to renegotiate anyone, I fail to sign a single free agent (unless he would come in without a signing bonus), and I not sign any of our draft picks. Under that scenario, I wouldn't bounce the first check until the second week of the preseason.

Any way I looked at it, I couldn't make my one million suffice as enough capital to run this team. My days as controlling the Rebels, I thought, were over.

In despair, I slinked into a down-covered bed and slept for two days. The local Winn Dixie ran out of chocolate. I know; I bought it all. If I was half the good ol' boy Jeffrey Davis was, I would have drowned myself in bourbon. But under doctor's orders, I had long ago abandoned the booze, and I was forced to drown in decaf.

The first evidence that the fog was lifting came from a surprise source. On day 3 of my bout with suicidal tendencies, I got a call from Keaton Graves. He wanted to offer me some information, he said, that would help my cause.

"And you would help me because..."

"Because I rather enjoyed being around football. And because Jeffrey Davis fired me."

"And I should believe you, of all people, because..."

"Fair enough." Graves chuckled. "I think the information I have for you would convince you easily enough that my loyalty to Davis has been dissolved. Meet me for lunch in an hour."

"You'd better make it dinner in six," I said. It would have taken me at least an hour to remember what I had done with my razor.

[revrew]

"You were really more brilliant than you realize," Graves said over dinner that evening. "Your continued losses with the team cost Davis dearly."

"Don't think I don't recognize that ploy to flatter me--'more brilliant than you realize'" I said.

"You really don't trust me, do you?"

"Should I?"

"I asked you first."

I looked at Graves blankly. Then I snickered. The childlike bravado with which we just sparred was laughable. "I asked you first," he had said. What's was I supposed to say next? "Na-na-na-boo-boo, stick your head in doo-doo"? My chuckle turned to a guffaw, and soon Graves and I were both laughing.

After a hearty laugh and wiping my tears away, I said, "How about this, you just tell me what you know without telling me how it's good, or what I'm supposed to do, or how I'm supposed to feel about it. You know, just the facts without the spin."

"Very well. When you took over the Rebels, Davis' cash flow had dried up. In fact, that's what you used to engineer your takeover. But afterwards, the Rebels continued to lose money, and at 48% ownership, Davis was responsible for those losses. On top of that, Jeffrey's falling out with the public cost him several clients. 3 months ago, Davis was facing bankruptcy."

"How do you know this, if you were fired?"

"I...still know some people on the inside. Davis can't work in a vacuum, and as it turns out, he can't work where I don't have ears, either."

"Remind me not to cross you."

"Yes, well, bankruptcy would have cost him the Rebels, but a quick sale of some of his 48% share would bring him back up to solvency in a heartbeat. 48% of a $600 million organization is a fair amount of change. The problem, however, was finding a quick buyer. The 'pure Southerner' fiasco scared away a lot of businessmen who might have otherwise considered a piece of the team. Davis needed the cash fast."

"I understand that position."

"Oh? Oh, I see. You're not quite backed to handle the Rebels' losses either. Well, Davis needed the money, but when he found a supplier, he was too proud to just hand over more of the Rebels. He decided instead to play a little game. A very dangerous game."

[revrew]

That's when I learned of Jeffrey Davis' connections to organized crime. According to Graves, Davis knew the Rebels' new stadium was going to be finished soon, and the team should begin to turn a hefty profit. Davis didn't want to surrender any of his 48%, so he worked out a simple wager with a very wealthy Italian family. The Family would loan Davis $50 million dollars to weather the next 3 years. If the Rebels succeeded the way Davis expected, he would pay back the Family $75 million at the end of 3 years. If he wasn't able to pay, the Family would be given half of Davis' stake in the Rebels, a 150-million-dollar payoff.

The stakes were very high, but a win-win for the family, so long as Davis kept his end of the bargain.

For me, if I could sustain Rebel losses, I could drive Davis into a hole that would cost him half his stake in the team. The Family would own 24% of the team, Davis would own 24%, the NFL would own 3%, and I would own 49%. It would be a very good arrangement for me. If only I could find a way to keep losing money without losing the team...

"This...Family," I asked Graves. "They have a name?"

"Yes."

"They have a contact I can talk to?"

"Why?"

"Your information, Keaton, is very welcome. But I'm not at all certain I can trust it, let alone make 100-million-dollar decisions on it. I'd simply like to confirm your story."

"I'll get it for you."

A certain unnamed member of a certain Family contacted me a week later. I set up a meet with him and a certain financial backer that may or may not have any connections to any alleged Family and therefore couldn't be suggested was in any way connected to any alleged wrongdoing by any certain party.

[Grammaticus]

"Have you been smoking something?"

"Cubans, actually. Want one?"



Best line yet, keep up the good work.:)

[revrew]

Grammaticus: Thanx! Now, on with the update...

"It's very simple," I explained to a certain financier after I had confirmed Keaton Graves' story was accurate. "I require a certain favor, and in return I can ensure a profitable investment becomes an exceptionally profitable investment."

"An offer I can't refuse, eh? Go on."

"You stand to make $25 million net if Jeffrey Davis can garner enough profits from the Rebels to pay you off. You stand to diversify your portfolio with a $150 million investment in a professional sports franchise if Mr. Davis cannot make the necessary profits. In my position, I can ensure Mr. Davis is unable to gain profits from the Rebel franchise."

"And in return, what is this favor we can do for you?"

"I need to remain in control of the team to make that happen. Very simply, I need capital to make it happen. So here's what I propose: I will sell you 10% of the Rebels, at fair market value, which, after calculations, should fall somewhere in the $60-$70 million dollar range. All I ask as a favor, is that you make the...terms...of the purchase favorable for me."

"How so? And how does this help you?"

"If you were to pay me the $60-$70 million in installments, but not take ownership of the investment until the full amount was paid--"

"You'd have the money you need to lose, without losing contol of the team."

"Exactly."

"In the end, we'd have paid $50 million to Davis and $70 million to you. That's 120 million dollars. At the end, we'd own Davis' 24% and your 10%, for a 34% stake in the team. 35% of 600 million is 210 million dollars. 120 million to own 210 million, is that it?"

"In 3 years, I expect the team will be worth quite a bit more than that. The stadium will be built. Team value should exceed 800 million. You'd probably be looking at closer to a 280 million stake."

"Perhaps. But you'd still be primary owner at 39%, wouldn't you?"

"That's what I get out of the deal. That's the favor I need in return."

In every way, my arrangement with this financier was completely legal. I sold 10% of the team through this financier to Marinara Industries, Inc. for $64 million dollars, payable in installments, with ownership being transferred only after the completion of the payment schedule 3 years down the road. That gave me $65 million total to lose before I forced Davis to lose his gamble, and lose big. That gave me $64 million to lose before I turned a profit, if I wanted to keep the team.

If everything worked just right, the family would own 34% of the team, Davis would own 24%, the NFL would own 3%, and I would own a controlling 39%. The family would have bought its 34% at a nearly half-off discount, it would be a major player in a legitimate industry, and I'd still have some money left over to run the team in peace. All I had to do was stop Davis from making a net $25 million in 3 years.

[revrew]

Our eigth season began with some tense conversations between the commissioner and I. We made some additions through free agency, but oddly, they were all Southerners or Stanford graduates. RDE Dexter Young was from North Dakota, I argued, but since he graduated from Auburn, the Commish wasn't all that impressed. Our second-round pick was from Oklahoma, I argued, a state Davis had forbidden for me, but the Commish still wasn't impressed. We drafted players from Illinois and Wisconsin, I argued, but 6th and 7th rounders weren't all that impressive to him either. Finally, in the free agency shuffle after the draft, we brought in a starting left tackle from Massachusetts, and Tagliabue was appeased.

We weren't trying to be a "Southern" team anymore, but that year, many of the players we went after just happened to be Southern. Such is life in football.

Rnd 1 - Rusty Stockman, TE, Memphis
Rnd 2 - Quentin Brown, WR, Oklahoma
Rnd 2 - Bart Houston, OLB, Clemson
Rnd 3 - Bennie Sanderson, ILB, Davidson
Rnd 4 - Scottie Lyon, DT, California
Rnd 5 - Jack Lesky, RB, Louisville
Rnd 6 - Ian Vang, G, Illinois
Rnd 7 - Edwin McDowall, S, Wisconsin

Our eighth season was a nerve-wracker. We were uncommonly strong in the early season, led by rookies and newcomers. TE Rusty Stockman looked like he would grow into the kind of TE that would make fans forget about Randy McMichael. WOLB Bart Houston showed flashes that gave us visions of the finest LB corps in the league. Atkins, Smith, and Houston looked like HOF candidates each on paper, and Smith had already proven himself many times over.

The youngsters, however, grew tired at the end, dropping us to a 10-6 record. The fans were still thrilled to have a powerful team, but a key loss to Minnesota lost our tie-breaker, and even at 10-6, we were out of the playoffs. Worse still, our LT went down to a possible career-ending MCL, our center went down to a similar ACL, and MLB C.J. Atkins blew his MCL, too. The dreadful astroturf we were playing on had blown out more knees than any team could afford. Thankfully, the new, outdoor grass stadium was scheduled to be finished the next year...but would it be too late?

At 10-6 with no playoffs, the team lost $38 million. That meant $19 million dollar losses for both Davis and I. Davis' $50 million was down to $31. My $65 was down to $46. One more year like that, and Davis wouldn't be able to recover in time. Two more years like that, however, and even I might get into trouble. The goal was to prevent Davis from profiting, but keep myself afloat.

And, oh, winning another SuperBowl. I was hungry. Hungry for a Lombardi without Davis over my shoulder.

[revrew]

My ninth season as manager of the Rebels began with a bang. Our draft class was raved about in media outlets, even given an A+ rating by ESPN the Magazine.

Rnd 1 - Bernie Hicks, DT, Vanderbilt
Rnd 2 - Tyrone Tyler, WR, Miami, Ohio
Rnd 3 - Korey Shannon, DT, Missouri
Rnd 4 - Levon Needham, C, Wisconsin
Rnd 5 - Stanley Wang, QB, Southern Methodist
Rnd 6 - Ross Emerson, CB, Alabama
Rnd 7 - Winfred Swift, K, Florida State

The biggest addition, however, was all-star LT Chad Clifton, who finally gave us a fomidable force at the blind corner. Birmingham fans were gearing up for a huge season. Then the preseason hit. Clifton blew out his knee. His career was over in a snap.

Nonetheless, a new hero emerged, new offensive coordinator Jessie Kubicz. Jessie decided--with the loss of Clifton and no solid option at LT--to switch up the offense and put more on Spencer Knowles and less on Marco Turtschin. Jessie wanted to free Turtschin to be efficient instead of pressuring him to be a playmaker. Jessie also did a good job of bringing the O-line together. The Rebs jumped out to 6-0, selling out our new stadium. By halfway through the season, we had sold out every season ticket package available. We were on a roll.

There can be, however, a measure of pain even in a season where you finish 13-3. Two of our losses were to Dallas and Minnesota, who therefore took the tiebreakers from us and robbed us of a bye in the first round. Thanks to Jessie Kubicz's revamped offense, Spencer Knowles had his best season to date: 1586 rushing yards and 8 TDs. Sophomore tight end Rusty Stockman continued the tradition of great Rebel tight ends, topping the league with 12 TD catches and 845 yards receiving.

In our first playoff game against Detroit, 4 sacks by LE Charles Grant led us to a 25-19 victory. But by the time we limped to our rematch against Dallas, 11 of our starters were on the injured inactive list, including our top 2 Quarterbacks. Without Turtschin and half the team, we fought valiantly, but lost 17-20.

In the postseason, our two previous first round picks, FB Chambliss and TE Stockman both won first team honors. RCB Toby Porter, a 5th round pick, won 2nd team honors. Spencer Knowles barely missed the rushing title (he was 2nd in the NFL) and was robbed of honors, as was punter Corey Wilkins, who led the league with a 44.8 punting average.

In terms of team management, however, I had run into a problem. A big problem. I had promised the family that Davis would not be able to repay them. With such a fantastic season in our new facility, the Rebels made 42 million in profits.

The profits were good news for my bank account: With the sale of part of the team and the year's profits, I was sitting with a pretty $67-million cushion. The bad news was Jeffrey Davis also made money, bringing his cash worth up to $52 million. I had promised certain individuals that by the end of our tenth year, Davis would not be able to repay his $75 million dollar debt.

If the Rebels continued their upward streak of earnings, Davis would make his money, and I wouldn't keep my promise. I wasn't exactly sure how the Family would feel about me not keeping my promise.

[revrew]

In the all-out effort to lose money with a popular team in a great stadium deal, we re-upped our coaching staff at hefty salary levels. Then I went into the free agency market to grab the biggest, best, and most expensive free agent in DRE Darrell Houston. Not since John Abraham had the Rebels had such a formidable force at RE. The unfortunate retirement of LDE Charles Grant left us without a perfect pair of DEs, but the pass rush from the right side was a much needed boost.

We also signed one of the best left tackles available, 3-time League's Strongest man, Jackie Hoover.

Rnd 1 - Deron Courage, RT, Texas A & M
Rnd 2 - Skip Vamos, C, Rutgers
Rnd 3 - Mitch LaStarza, SS, Portland State
Rnd 4 - Casey Derlange, QB, Notre Dame
Rnd 5 - Deron Hardon, WR, Florida State
Rnd 6 - Glen Carlisle, DE, Wagner
Rnd 7 - Britt Stanton, DT, Iowa State

Could we actually lose money when the stadium deal and the team's success were so favorable? I doubted it, but if I wanted to keep certain unnamed investors happy (and bring an end to the Jeffrey Davis era), we had to avoid doing TOO well.

By season's end, we had managed to inexplicably drop 6 games, forcing us to play the Wildcard in the playoffs. The 10-6 record did, however, prevent us from landing home field advantage, a financial move that would have proved costily profitable.

Our first playoff game matched us against Seattle, where Spencer Knowles racked up 95 yards and a pair of scores en route to a 31-20 victory. For Knowles, this had been his best statistical year, rushing for 1566 yards, a 5.27 average, and catching a personal best 50 passes. Unfortunately, Knowles suffered a high ankle sprain in the third quarter, benching him for the rest of the playoffs. A SuperBowl run began to slip through our fingers.

We came into the second game like a M.A.S.H. unit--6 of our starters were out with injury--against a well-rested Cowboys squad. Rested as they were, however, they weren't prepared for second-string HB Wendell Osborne, who broke some huge runs on his way to 134 yards, a pair of tuddies, and a 34-10 drubbing of Dallas. The injury bug bit again, however, sidelining star TE Rusty Stockman.

The NFC Championship game in TBAY would be played without Knowles or Stockman, and the Buccs were more than ready for Wendell Osborne. Where would the offense come from? Nowhere. Buccs win, 9-6. Baseball anyone?

In many respects, it had been a successful season. FB Chambliss, TE Stockman, and DE Houston all won first team all-pro. Kicker Winfred Smith won 2nd team. We had charged into the NFC Championship game and came within a score of going to the SuperBowl. But we didn't win the Lombardi. And we made a lot of money. Perhaps too much. As I sat down to tally the books, I knew there was a possibility my dream of winning a legitimate SuperBowl might be dashed by a very angry investor family.

[Grammaticus]

Someone is going to be sleeping with the fishes :eek:

[fantastic flying froggies]

Concrete shoes, anyone? :)

[revrew]

So here's how the final total stacked up. Jeffrey Davis was bankrolled at $52 million, needing just another $23 million to pay off his $75mil debt and get the family off his back. As I sat down to add up receipts and debts, I realized just how important it was that we didn't land homefield advantage. Try as hard as I could, I couldn't lose money. Instead, the Rebs brought in a net $20+ mil, $10 each for Jeffrey and me. I was pleased to have $77 million in my pocket, and Jeffrey was sitting at $62 mil, $13mil short of his payoff amount. Had I not worked so hard to cut profits, Davis would have easily won his gamble and paid off the Family. And with the sale of my 10% to the Family, Davis would have returned to controlling ownership--his 48% to my 39%.

If, however, Davis couldn't come up with the additional unlucky $13 Ms, he would be bound to fork over to the Family half of his stake. That would give Davis 24% of the team, the NFL 3%, the family 34%, and leave me with a 39% controlling interest. At least, that's what was SUPPOSED to happen. Before Davis disappeared.

[Grammaticus]

A little insurance policy, eh?

[MacroGuru]

All I can saw is wow....what a great read

[jackyl]

I agree. Thanks for the awesome story.

[revrew]

Mac, jack, and others--- Thanks! Now, on with the story...

[revrew]

The deadline for Jeffrey Davis' payoff to the Family came and went. Not only did Jeffrey not pay, he didn't show. Anywhere. Davis had disappeared and left no forwarding address.

When I filed my sale of 10% to Marinara Industries, Inc., however I got an urgent call from Commishioner Tagliabue. "Are you crazy?!" he shouted. "You can't sell 10%! That makes Jeffrey Davis controlling owner again. What happened? The Rebels were turning around; you have a model stadium; you're a step away from another SuperBowl; you--"

"Relax, commishioner. I still have controlling interest."

"What?"

"You're basing your assumptions on the premise that Jeffrey Davis still owns 48% of the team. That's simply not true."

"It is as far as the League office knows..."

"The League office doesn't know everything, now, does it? Davis not only doesn't own 48%, but very shortly, he may not own any percentage."

"Who will?" he asked.

"Yes. Will. That's the question. If Jeffrey doesn't have one, the League may have to make an interesting decision."

It took a moment for that to register with the Commish. "A will? As in a will and testament. Davis is dead?"

"No. At least, I don't think so. Not yet. But it's very possible he will be soon. Davis has made some very...shall we say, dangerous connections in an effort to regain control of the team. I suggest the League be prepared in the case Davis has bitten off more than he can chew."

"Mr. Wilson, I do not know what you're implying. But I can tell you, I don't like it. With such talk, you might expect a thorough investigation--"

"No, no, no, Commishioner! You don't understand. I, personally, have been conducting the affairs of the Rebels with the utmost ingegrity. But in my position, it's good to know what Davis has been up to. And I know that he doesn't hold the same level of integrity that I insist upon. I also know that he's gone missing." I gave that a moment to sink in. "Commishioner Tagliabue, I am simply suggesting, based on my knowledge of Mr. Davis' shady character, that the League be prepared should Mr. Davis no longer be in control of his stake in the team. I'm trying to help you, here, Commishioner."

"I, I, don't know what to say."

"You could say, 'Thank you. Thank you for you work in preserving the integrity of the League.' Or, you could just say, 'good bye.' Good bye, Mr. Commishioner." Then I hung up.

Oddly enough, as soon as I hung up the phone, I got another call--this time from Jeffrey Davis.

[Franklinnoble]

Brilliant dynasty, rev!

[revrew]

Franklin and others--Thank you for your encouragement. Please remember me at the next Golden Scribes season. Now, on with the show...


"I guess I should be thanking you," Davis said when I answered the phone.

"For what, old friend?"

My remark gave him pause. I could just see his mind reeling back to when he earlier had called me "friend" with a sly sneer. Now it was my time to return the favor, and Davis was just beginning to recognize that something foul was afoot.

"Why, for returning controlling interest of the team to me, of course."

"Really? When did 24% constitute a controlling interest?"

"Twenty...how...but--"

"Or did you find a way to come up with the missing $13 million? Get lucky at the dog track, did you? Been playing some high-stakes hold 'em?"

"You know more than you should," was Davis' response.

"Yes, I suppose I do. But when, exactly, does Marinara Industries Incorporated take control of your other 24%? Has the transaction already happened, or are you still anticipating the pain? Just out of curiosity, you know, are you the majority owner right now? I mean, should I call you 'sir' again, just for old times' sake?"

Davis' mind was beginning to put the pieces together. "Marinara. That's how you know. The Family has been in touch, those dirty double-crossers. I should have known better than to work with a Yankee family."

"Right. The organized crime families in Atlanta are SO much more dependable," I quipped. "So back to my question. When's the transaction?"

"I really don't have anything more to say to you at this time, Kendall."

"Oh, quick! Before you go, do you have a phone number or a forwarding address I can reach you at? I noticed you weren't answering your email."

Click. Davis had hung up, but a few seconds too late by my estimation.

I pushed the button on my desk intercom. "Carmen? Were you able to complete the trace?"

Her sulty voice purred back, "Yes, Mr. Wilson. We know right where he's hiding."

[revrew]

I punched in a number I had saved under a code name on my Rolodex. It rang five times before it was answered. "Yes?"

My answer was veiled, but clear: "I'm aware that the disappearance of a certain party has left your associates with less profit than was guaranteed. I'm aware that I share a responsibility in this loss of profit. I would like to offer two million and the whereabouts of the missing party in exchange for the opportunity to negotiate an acceptable payment plan. I am, sir, just a businessman, and I believe I can still conduct a profitable transaction with your associates. Please convey my offer."

"I shall." Click.

Two hours later, I had scheduled a meeting with certain unnamed members of a certain unnamed board governing certain unnamed corporations and familial enterprises. Certain unnamed businessmen were promised a gross profit of $280 million dollars, and, as of yet, they had received only a 10% stake in the Rebels. THe following is an account of how I managed to negotiate for my life:

"In our original transactions, I had guaranteed your operation a gross profit of $280 million for its $120 million in investment. The flight of Mr. Davis has left you without a significant portion of that investment. Shall I take it as understood that Mr. Davis' end of the transaction will not be completed as originally negotiated?"

"You shall," they said.

"Then, I presume, you hold me accountable, even as you hold him, for the loss of profits."

"We do."

"I can recover those profits for you without any additional investment on your part."

"You had better."

"Marinara Industries, Inc., currently owns 10% of the Rebels. The Rebels are valued at $881 million, which means you have $88 million of your $280 million already. The question is the remaining $198 million. I've just handed you a check for $2 mil, which brings us to $196 million."

"You can do math, I'll give you that."

"Upon written agreement of acceptable payment terms, I can immediately send you an additional check for $50 million. The remaining $146 mil, I can take care of, so long as I have...certain guarantees."

"Such as?"

"Simple things, like safety for my person, my businesses, my family and friends. I'm a businessman, sir. I like to keep my business transactions in the business world. I know you might conduct your business differenly, but I like to leave out...my family."

A smile cracked the lips of a certain unnamed board chairperson. "The terms, then," he said. "They're simple. As long as those $50 bills keep comin, we keep the Family out of it."

"$50 bills?" I asked. "Every...two years?"

"Every year, for three years."

"Um...that's not...exactly possible. I only own 39% now--"

"It's about as possible as us forgiving you and Davis for dragging our Family into your business."

The next day, I took my $75 million in cash, cut Marinara a check for $50 mil, (bringing my debt to $150 million), and turned on the evening news. A certain famous Southern personality and former NFL owner of some notoriety was killed in a freakish car accident that evening. Not that I'm saying Davis' demise was related to anything else discussed in this book. I'm not sayin'; I'm just sayin'.

[revrew]

Do the math. In order for me to...shall we say, drive safely?...I needed to net profit $50 mil a year for three years with the Rebels. With only a 39% stake in the team, that meant I needed the team to bring in $128 million a year in gross profits. With my bank account where it was, I had a whole $25 million in reserves, just in case the team didn't hit the jackpot. With all apologies to the middle-class fans in Birmingham, seeing a Rebel game was about to get a whole lot more expensive.

With the ticket prices skyrocketing and our coaches locked into contracts, I felt I could afford to sign all-star 6-year veteran F.A. DT Van Lydon, who had held out for huge money but couldn't find a taker. After the draft, we negotiated a reasonable long-term contract that started with a cheap first year to squeeze him under the cap. Lydon looked like the kind of superstar that can anchor a team to championships. And to my great relief, the positive PR with his signing helped us to sell out our season tickets, even with the elevated prices.

Rnd 1 - Damon Pierce, WR, Virginia
Rnd 2 - Herb Ruoff, C, West Virginia
Rnd 3 - Carl Sherman, WR, Bethune Cookman
Rnd 4 - Ernest Gardner, TE, Oregon
Rnd 5 - Jamal Holmes, WR, Washington State
Rnd 6 - Dwayne Wilkerson, T, Tennessee - Martin
Rnd 7 - Matt Hruby, DT, Texas Tech

To my surprise, following training camp that year, all three of our rookie wideouts not only made the team but looked to be contributors. With a beefed up defense and an infusion of young talent into the offense, did veteran stars Spencer Knowles and Marco Turtschin have enough in the tank to fuel us to the Bowl? (And, considering the financial mess I had made...enough to secure home field advantage?)

As the season rolled on, the value of our big free agent acquisition became abundantly clear. We had built a solid, veteran linebacker corps in MLB C.J. Atkins, superstar SLB Darryl Smith, and WLB Bart Houston; but the 'backers had struggled for years to play at the top of their game with an inconsistent line in front of them. DT Van Lydon gave us not only the consistency that our linebackers needed, but the presence to free our defensive ends. Through the first half of the season, our defense was destroying its opponents by destroying the run and terrorizing quarterbacks. With all the pressure up front, our DBs were all enjoying career years in interceptions.

But the defense wasn't the whole story. Going into our bye at 10-0, QB Marco Turtschin led the league in QB rating, and while Knowles handn't really hit big runs like he had in the past, he was unstoppable at the goalline (leading NFL in touchdowns).

By the time we hit 12-0, the Rebel defense was being compared to the '85 Bears. Our opponents were averaging a mere 9.9 points per game, and we were #1 against pass, #1 against run, #1 on 3rd down, and #1 in takeaways. Van Lydon was more than an addition to this defense, he was a multiplication.

At 12-0, however, we lost Knowles to a 3-week injury, and the schedule did not favor finishing undefeated. Our arch-nemesis, Tampa Bay (for now that Davis was gone, the heat over the Pats and the 'Skins had faded) handed us our first loss, taking us to 13-1, and forcing us to wait to wrap up home field. The following week, a 31-6 win over Cincinatti, powered by reserve RB Wendell Osborne and a breakout WR Ethan Hoffman (a fifth-year, 7th round pick who earned the starter's role) wrapped up our home field.

We finished the season 15-1 (only furthering our hatred for TBay) and secured home field. In 12 games starting, QB Marco Turtschin had been a model of precision, completing 66% of his passes, with 21 TDs and only 1 INT. He led the league in QB rating, with a personal best, 107.1. Our future QB, sophomore Casey Derlange completed 65% of his passes, with 5 TDs against 1 pick, for a 92 QB rating. The passing attack set an NFL record for only surrendering 2 INTS the entire year. The defense set a record for fewest rushing yards surrendered, but a couple of high scores at the end of the year lost us the all-time anti-scoring crown.

We upped our prices, won homefield, and were the hands-down favorite to win the Bowl. But with both of our starting guards out for the playoffs, injured in our last two games, could we finally win a SuperBowl in the post-Davis era? Could we celebrate the year our former owner's death by dancing the SuperBowl Shuffle on his grave? And could the team make enough revenue to keep me alive long enough to dance, too?

[revrew]

After the bye, who should be our playoff opponent but our dear arch-nemesis? The game was close, as expected, but inside the two-minute warning, Marco Turtschin led the biggest drive of his career, capping it off with a touchdown pass that gave us the final score: Rebels win, 20-17.

Our second game was even closer. Once again, it was our veteran captains that refused to lose. Spencer Knowles rushed for 142 yards, Turtschin passed for 303, and we beat Dallas in overtime, 23-20. On to the Bowl!

Our victory over Dallas came at a price, however. We lost two key cogs in the Rebel machine to injury. Our leading receiver and the best fullback in football, Dave Chambliss, would not be able to play in the big game. Neither would NFL interception leader, CB Toby Porter. I reassured these two men that we would not be in this game were it not for them, and that a victory here would be just as much their victory as anyone else's, but they were understandably grieving their stint on the pine for this one.

The matchup was classic and greatly anticipated. The Chargers mirrored our squad with a pounding rushing attack, efficient passing, and a killer defense. San Diego was clearly the class of the AFC. The big difference between our two team? Turnovers. We led the league in turnover differential, while the Chargers found turnovers their stumbling block.

The game itself was a bone-crushing defensive battle. We sacked the Chargers five times, while they put the brakes on our rushing attack. There were 5 turnovers in the game, not because anyone was sloppy, but because the defenses were primed, poised, and positioned to take over the game. In the end, a kickoff return for a touchdown gave us just the breathing room we needed, an interception gave us the field position we needed, and the Rebels won, 27-16. Our monster DE Darrell Houston--who very quietly led the team in sacks fot he year--won SuperBowl MVP with his 2.5 sacks and 3 hurries.

18-1. SuperBowl champions, and without any of Davis' crazy restrictions. We did it! After the game, I broke down in tears--inconsolable joy and relief. I had proven that I could GM a team to the Lombardi under adverse circumstances, AND under normal circumstances. I had only one hurdle left to clear: GM'ing a team to massive profits in a three-year span. I just needed to stay alive, so I could enjoy the Rebels' fantastic success.

[revrew]

18-1. SuperBowl champions. Sold-out stadium, home field advantage. But the Rebels made a mere 81 million.

My 39% share came to 31.5 million. In order to make my $50 million installment, I had to dip into my reserves to the tune of 18.5 million. That left me with a net line of 6.5 million dollars to my name and 100 million in debt, due in two more equal installments. Gulp.

The only way to stay alive was to increase the previous year's profits by 50%. Once again, with my apologies to Birmingham fans, attending a Rebel game was about to get very expensive. My life depended on it.

After winning the SuperBowl, few players were willing to re-sign for anything less than a fortune. I hated to break up a team that had just brought me and the fans of Birmingham such joy, but the skyrocketing signing bonus demands not only pushed us beyond the salary cap, but may have cost me my life. There are some dark roads in rural Alabama. Things happen when you can't repay a 100-million-dollar debt.

Roster cuts, thus, were inevitable. Players that we desperately wanted to re-sign we just couldn't afford. Consequently, we lost a lot of our bench to other teams. We lost a couple of starters. But when the math came due, there was one big release we had to make. For the last two years we had "franchise tagged" SLB Daryl Smith. Daryl's agent was fuming mad about it, refusing to sign a contract voluntarily with us for any amount. To tag him again would have cost more than 5 million, room we didn't have under the cap. With MLB Atkins and WLB Houston under contract, there was no way we could afford to spend that big of a piece of the salary pie on another linebacker. We had to let Smith go.

In eulogy, Smith was our most highly touted, naturally-talented player. He had been for years. But his constant griping about his contract and his falling production never made him a fan favorite, and we hoped WLB Houston could step into his "star" shoes.

Rnd 1 - Neil Hayes, T, Memphis
Rnd 2 - Damon Kanyuh, CB, Boise State
Rnd 3 - Korey Robinson, QB, Auburn
Rnd 4 - Kelvin Alston, OLB, West Georgia
Rnd 5 - Paul Miller, TE, Arkansas
Rnd 6 - Britt Flynn, RB, Nebraska
Rnd 7 - Jeff Roderick, C, Ohio State

The Birmingham fans showed real class in selling out the stadium. The price hikes were obnoxious, and I really feared a backlash. Of course, the media screamed for blood, but in the end, the fans screamed for tickets--and to them I owe my life.

[revrew]

The season after the SuperBowl was magical. Our roster losses didn't seem to slow us, as we finished 14-2 and won homefield advantage again (to my great relief!). Marco Turtschin defied his aging legs, continued his crafty, veteran play, and finished with a 102 passer rating, his second year in a row with 100+ passer rating. The team again avoided the pick, throwing only 9 INTs all year. Spencer Knowles stayed healthy all year, providing a workhorse effort that garnered 12 TDs and over 1200 yards rushing.

Oddly, our passing attack had settled into an unique pattern: our two leading receivers were a tight end (Randy Stockman with 88 catches) and a fullback (Dave Chambliss with 71). Together, Stockman and Chambliss defined an era in Rebel football. Together with QB Marco Turtschin, the trio of "small-play" heroes became superstars, not because they raced 60 yards for the endzone, but because they pounded six yards for the first down--again, and again, and again. Like "small ball" in baseball, when it's done well it's a surefire way to put points on the scoreboard. For the "small-play" Rebels, it was done well. The team set NFL records for total first downs in a game and in a season. With surehanded receivers that could always gain separation and always fall forward, Turtschin never had to risk the INT when a first down was only 10 yards away.

Just as Bill Walsh created the "West-Coast offense," and Indianapolis created the "three-headed monster," the Rebels created what later became known as "short-down," a style of play that made the ten yards beyond the line of scrimmage an indefensible zone. Turtschin's pinpoint accuracy, the offensive line's ability to move with Turtschin's roll-out style, and most especially Stockman's and Chambliss' ability to sit in every hole and power to the first down created a new era in the NFL. Some found it boring. But to Birmingham fans, it was a joy to watch, a badge of honor that took the game out of the ever-increasing egos of primadonna widouts and divas and put it back in the hands of strategists and powerhouses.

In my mind, Turtschin, Stockman, and Chambliss are not only Hall of Famers, they're also legends, giants of the game that defined an era the way the Steel Curtain, the Purple People-Eaters, or Lombardi's Packers defined their respective eras.

[revrew]

The 14-2, short-down Rebels welcomed the St. Louis Rams in their first playoff game. The final score, 23-13, did not reflect the total domination by the Rebels in every facet of the game.

In the NFC Championship, Dallas came to Birmingham, but our defense was beat to snot, with our three biggest defensive stars all watching from the bench. Could the offense step up? Knowles, Chambliss, and Stockman did exactly that. Knowles rushed for 142, keeping our defense fresh, and Chambliss and Stockman each caught a TD in our 23-20 overtime win.

Another Superbowl? Could it be?

We faced our once heated enemy, the New England Patriots. Since Jeffrey Davis' antics had been exposed, the steam and lustre had faded from the early Patriot/Rebel rivalry. This game was between the best of the AFC and the best of the NFC, not between North and South.

Unfortunately for Johnny Reb, Marco Turtschin sprained his knee on the first play of the game. We went to backup, Casey Derlange, but unfortunately, Casey wasn't ready for the spotlight. Casey wasn't nearly as accurate in short-down play, his timing just not perfectly aligned as it was with Marco. Casey threw 2 picks in the game. With our defensive front banged up, New England ran down the clock and cleaned ours, 20-3.

Nonetheless, our small-down heroes had become league-wide stars. Chambliss and Stockman both won first team All-pro honors--Stockman's 3rd, Chambliss' fourth. Unfortunately, both would be unrestricted free agents the following year.

Now, time to pay the piper.

[wishbone]

Did the piper get paid and I missed it?

[revrew]

wishbone -- As Eyore said, "Thanks for noticing." I just moved and my service was interrupted. But we're now back on the air! And back to the story...


I hesitated as I unfurled the calculator tape. If the Rebels made $128 million, I'd have my $50 mil to give to certain, unnamed Family members. If worse came to worse, I still had a bankroll of $6.5 million to make up any difference.

Of course, if the Rebels didn't make the moola, I'd be due for a little "accident."

I had to read the tape twice. I counted the zeros, just to make sure there were seven of them. There were. Seven zeros...with a 13 in front of them. O, blessed, unlucky, glorious number 13! Put such a lovely number in front of seven zeroes, and you get $130 million!

We needed to make $128 mil, and we made $130. Hastily, I cut a check to my bank for $50 million in small bills. It took a while to get green assembled, but three telephone booths, two cell phone calls, one man in sunglasses and a red baseball cap--and one car trunk--later, I had paid my second installment. One more year's lease on life. And one more $50 million dollar installment to make.

[revrew]

The following offseason, Rebel fans were dealt a harsh blow to the heart. Running back Spencer Knowles retired after 10 seasons, 8 of which were 1000 yards+, never rushing for fewer than 948 yards in any season. Knowles finished 3rd on the rushing records list with 11,971 yards and 2nd on the list with 102 rushing TDs.

Furthermore, three of our other top stars were all up for new contracts: two of the "short-down" masters, Stockman and Chambliss, along with MLB Atkins. I wasn't sure I could handle the blow of losing Knowles, Stockman, Chambliss, and Atkins all in one year. It would be like like washing Mount Rushmore and watching three of the four faces crumble away.

Our staff was under contract, but I nonetheless faced some cruel decisions. Could I really afford to pony up all the signing bonus money needed to re-sign the stars of the team? On one hand, I had the choice of coasting by, letting the stars go, making my 50 mil--but it would be at the cost of washing away a national landmark! On the other hand, I could spend the money to keep Stockman, Chambliss (and maybe Atkins) but risk my life in the endeavor.

Hmmm...decisions, decisions. Such is the life of an NFL GM with ties to the mafia.

[Grammaticus]

Just have your buddies put a horses head in Atkins' bed with a hint to resign at a reduced rate :)

[wishbone]

Good to see some updates, I've really enjoyed the story so far!

[revrew]

My team or my life. My team or my life. This isn't the kind of decision you make with a magic 8-ball. So, ignoring everything I hold dear for the sake of everything else I hold dear...I chose...my team! The Rebels shelled out big contracts to Randy Stockman, Dave Chambliss, C.J. Atkins. We're bringing them all back, baby!

Furthermore, we renogiated big bonuses to Marco Turtschin and Toby Porter. They can take my life, but they can't have my Rebels!

Unfortuntately, paying the faces of the Rebels cost us the arms and legs. Our Offensive was decimated in free agency.

Rookie Draft:
Rnd 1 - Pat Branch, S, Maryland
Rnd 2 - Tommy Armour, C, Boston University
Rnd 3 - Karl Wiggins, K, North Texas
Rnd 4 - Sedrick Thompson, S, West Virginia
Rnd 5 - Broderick Mascorella, TE, Southern Methodist
Rnd 6 - Matthew Clancy, T, Arizona State
Rnd 7 - Antonio Guest, C, South Florida

What great timing for one of the Rebels' greatest draft classes ever! Pat Branch at the end of the first round proved to be an all-around safety ready to start off the bat. Karl Wiggins easily replaced our overpriced kicker. But best of all, seventh-round Antonio Guest shocked everyone by far-exceeding his estimated talent and anchoring the Rebel O-line for years. In all my experience as a GM, I'd never seen a player break out so suddenly, so strongly. Our star CB Toby Porter was a 5th-rounder who took a few years to show what he could do. Guest didn't wait a few weeks.

The O-line was still a bit thin, so we looked for a tough, reliable replacement for Spencer Knowles. In the leftovers of the free agency market, we saw Neil Fenyhough yet unclaimed. Fenyhough had been Knowles' backup a few years back, and to be honest, we didn't think he ever had a fair chance to prove his worth. I decided to give him his shot.

Now. How exactly was I planning on staying alive again?

[revrew]

An infusion of youthful power, added to the stars of last year's SuperBowl team launched the Rebels into a successful campaign. A hungry Fenyhough rushed for 1300 yards and 11 TDs, filling Knowles' shoes quite nicely. Marco Turtschin threw 24 TDs and a mere 5 INTs, leading us to our third consecutive year of leading the league in turnover ratio (+21). Behold the power of "short-down"!

The defense was stellar, our talented players frightening many would-be rushers into the arms of crafty veteran FA pickup, SLB Mo Hoff. Chambliss and Stockman again led the team in catches, Toby Porter rewarded us for his contract extension with 7 picks, and rookie Pat Branch added 5 more.

The Rebels continued to roll, piling up a 14-2 record and securing home field advantage yet again. Maybe, just maybe, playing at home could give us the revenue needed to keep my driving record from taking a serious plunge.

As the playoffs loomed, I knew we needed every win, every penny. I knew a trip to the SuperBowl might guarantee me the last $50 million payment. Doing so would finally make me owner of the Rebels, free and clear. No more Jeffrey Davis. No more Family business. No more threats, no more restrictions, the Rebels would at last be mine. I was so nervous, I threw-up before every game like a freshman guy before going to prom with a senior girl. It wasn't just what I stood to lose, but what I stood to win--free and clear ownership of an NFL franchise. What else could a man want?

[revrew]

Our first playoff game against the Cowboys was all Marco Turtschin, leading his new team to another victory. Has ever a less-touted, less talented QB been so successful? Maybe not since Joe Montana, whom many compare Turtschin to. Rebels win, 28-17.

The NFC Championship was all Turtschin again, throwing 23 of 29 for 256 yards, 3TDs, and 0 ints. The Rebels rolled to a 30-24 win. Turtschin led the Rebels to his third SuperBowl in a row; would he win his 3rd ring and 2nd SuperBowl MVP trophy?

In the SuperBowl Turtschin did indeed win his third ring, a 23-13 win over Browns. But Marco didn't grab MVP, as the defense stole the show, especially RDT Bernie Hicks, who not only led the team in sacks for the first time this year (with 11), but who also recorded a blazing 3 sacks, 2 hurries, and 5 tackles, earning game MVP. The offense struggled in the game, our inexperienced O-line not quite able to handle all the pressure, but the defense forced 5 turnovers to seal the game...and my fate?

[Audible]

is this a novel by Tom Wolfe?

[revrew]

is this a novel by Tom Wolfe?

Well, I considered titling it "The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Football Baby," but I thought that would be a bit obvious. ;)

[revrew]

After the game, All-pro honors were announced, and the Rebels were heavily represented. Chambliss and Stockman won first team yet again, but they were also joined by Bernie Hicks, Toby Porter, and surprise SLB Mo Hoff who--despite being far less talented than former Rebel star SLB Daryl Smith--nonetheless produced greater numbers leading the Rebs in tackles for his second year. Our rookie kicker won 2nd team kicker for making 86% of his FGs and 100% PATs, none bigger than the 5 he made in the SuperBowl itself. Coach Joe Galthier won coach of year, 3rd year straight.

But the real question, the final question, was the bottom line. With my reserves, I needed the Rebels to make $114 million dollars in order to pay off the Family.

And so, like it too often does, life and death became a matter of dollars and cents. The Rebels were 3-time SuperBowl champs, a dynasty, a legendary franchise, and I had engineered it all. But would my glory be enjoyed only posthumously?

[revrew]

I needed the fans of Birmingham to ransom me and their franchise at the cost of $114 million dollars. Like I have said many times, "Thank you, fans of Birmingham. You really are the best!" The Rebels made $126 million that year, a sum that preserved untarnished a football dynasty.

[revrew]

2 years after this story ends, Marco Turtschin led the Rebels to yet another SuperBowl victory, throwing for 307 yards in a SuperBowl MVP peformance.

4 years after this story ends, the Rebels conduct the first perfect regular season since the '72 Dolphins. Solid draft picks and a few key free agency pickups made the Rebels the most solidly talented top-to-bottom of any roster perhaps in history. Turtschin, Chambliss, Porter, and Stockman--all remaining starters from the end of our story--were often hurt throughout the year, but the Rebels bench was so thick, so solid, it held against all comers. Perhaps the best Birmingham team in history, the Rebels nonetheless lost the NFC Championship game to the defending SuperBowl champs, who then went on to successfully defend their title. Toby Porter retired in the offseason.

In Turtschin's 17th year, the Rebels fell to 6-10, their first losing season since Turtschin's sophomore campaign.

The next year, a ROY running back helped Turtschin lead the team to a 12-4 record with a wild card berth. Turtschin lost his last game, 16-6.

Marco Turtschin retired a Legend of the Game and certain hall of famer. He led his team to 6 SuperBowls, winning 4 of them and taking away two SuperBowl MVP trophies. He was voted player of the game 139 times in a career where he passed for 47,691 yards, 326 touchdowns and a mere 133 INT's with a lifetime 89.3 career passer rating. In 2027, Turtschin was voted into the Hall of Fame with an 100%, unanimous vote.

The next season, Dave Chambliss blew out his knee after 14 years of service. Though he worked to return, Chambliss' recovery simply took too long. He retired a Legend of the Game, with 3 SuperBowl rings, 6 All-League 1st team honors, and 1 2nd team honor, a career 42.7 BPct and a 0.2 SPct, with only 10 career sacks surrendered in 4338 passing plays. His career 757 catches were the most for any NFL back in history, and the third-most for any non-wideout. His Hall of Fame credentials are unsurpassed among fullbacks.

Two years later, in his 15th season, Rusty Stockman tore his ACL. He, too, chose to retire rather than make the long and difficult rehab. Rusty retired with 3 SuperBowl rings, 4 all league first team honors, and 1 second team honor. His HoF credentials are more than worthy. His final stats: 817 catches for 8754 yards (both NFL records for tight ends) and 60 touchdowns (2nd most for tight ends). His contribution to the history of the Rebels, however, cannot be measured. And neither can the contribution of any Rebel player, Rebel fan, or Rebel dynasty reader. To you all, thank you, and God bless.

[Coder]

I've read every post in this thread.. more than once.. Great story :)

[revrew]

I've read every post in this thread.. more than once.. Great story :)

Thank you very much, Coder. And thanks to all who have read along and encouraged me as I worked on this thread.

All I ask is that you would remember this thread when the Golden Scribe awards come around. As an aspiring writer and owner of an editorial services business, I include Golden Scribe Awards among my accomplishments on my resume. No kidding. So I invite you to vote!

[MacroGuru]

Bravo sir...Bravo sir...I must stand and applaud you for this.

Sell the movie rights now.......

[Kobeck]

excellent read

[Northwood_DK]

Printed this yesterday and spend the entire evening reading. I even missed all the Champions League action. Best football dynasty I have seen this year.