Choose your own adventure: Help Mike Shanahan bring a Super Bowl to Denver
The year is 2004. You are Mike Shanahan, and you have ten years to get the Broncos to the Super Bowl any way you can.
“Mike, wake up. The phone’s ringing.”
You sit up in your king-sized bed and rub your eyes as you look out your bedroom’s beautiful bay windows and on to the beautiful suburban Denver landscape below. Caller ID says it’s Kyle, your damn son. He’s calling from Cancun.
“The hell do you want Kyle? It’s 5 AM.”
“Guess what Dad? Chris and I are partying like crazy and he told me he’s going to get drafted by the Bucs in the first round! And Dad you’ll never guess it but he says he can get me a job there too.”
“That’s fine news son. Fine news” you mumble. This is the first decent night’s sleep you’ve had in eight months and now it’s all gone to rot.
“But the only thing is we ran out of money because I only took a few thousand dollars. Chris can pay you back once he gets to the NFL honest. Dad guess what? We even got matching tattoos.”
It’s too damn early to deal with this shit. You assume he’s joking about the tattoo shit and give the phone and your AmEx card to your wife and close your eyes.
You try to go back to sleep but you can’t. Your wife knows better than to think you’ll be able to get any rest. She’s used to it by now and already has a pot of coffee going for you as you try helplessly to think about something, anything besides how you’re going to make it out of the Wild Card round next year.
Of course you can’t, so you amble on with the daily routine: a shave, sunless tanning lotion, a catnap in the tanning bed, shower, polo shirt, track pants, stick your face in front of a hair drier for an hour and grab a dunk-a-roos for the road in to meet with Pat Bowlen. You’ve come to realize there’s no off-season in the NFL, and so you march on against the tide of sports radio callers and traffic reports on your way to the stadium. You’re 15 minutes early for your morning meeting with Mr. Bowlen. He’s already there and starts talking before you have a chance to sit down.
“Mike, we’ve got to make a move here. The city of Denver is on the cusp of greatness. We can’t have a football team that is only ‘above average!’ We need to change the mindset...”
Great, here comes the expectations diatribe. You eye the conference room he’s got you in. What the hell? There’s leather on all this shit. This pen has a leather clicker on it.
“...a football team who will set the pace for a growing city.”
Oh ok he’s done. He’s doing that thing where he stares at you. It’s your turn to talk, hit him with the good stuff Shanny.
“Yes sir, I’m certainly going to be evaluating all my options here. Certainly anytime you have a football team and there are evaluations at all levels, then in this league, you need to take a long hard look at each improvement you can make, and certainly we’re going to do that.”
“Cut the horse shit Mike, I’m serious. This team has underperformed so I’m giving you an ultimatum. You need to win me a championship within 10 years, and I really don’t care how you do it. If we can get a title, I’m putting you in my will. If you can’t? I’ll see to it that your son never gets his opportunity to be a head coach in this league- I know how important to you it is that he not move back in. I am so committed to winning this damn thing that I’m willing to say that I don’t even care if you’re the damn coach of the team, Mike. If you make the moves, then retire or die of a damn heart attack or sun poisoning, I’ll still put you in there. Kyle won’t have to “work” a day in his life, as it were.“
The old man’s playing hardball. Wonder who peed in his grape nuts this morning. There’s a knock at the door. It’s Mr. Bowlen’s pretty young secretary that is always “out sick” whenever Mrs. Bowlen stops by for lunch.
“Excuse me gentlemen, I’m sorry to interrupt you but there’s a Mr. Cerrato from Washington on the line for Mr. Shanahan.”
You look at Bowlen. He always wants you to ask him for permission to leave. He always gives it, but he wants you to ask.
“Better take that call Mike.”
Christ, the old man's serious this time. The last thing you want to deal with is another call from Vinny Cerrato right now. One time he tried to trade you Gus Frerotte for a John Elway-autographed scissor-lift filled with pogs. At least it'll get you out of the room.
“Sure thing Pat. Glad we had this talk.” You’re trying to fake sincerity, but you realize how phony you sound halfway through and trail off as you stand up to leave.
“I’ll have the lawyers draw up a revision in my living will. Just so you know how serious I am Mike. I want another title.”
You walk into your office forgetting to close the door. You sit down at the table and punch the speakerphone button.
“Yeah, this is Mike.”
“Mike holy shit how you doin’! Hey I’ve got Dan here with me! Hey Dan! Dan!!! Turn that music down! Dan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m on the phone!”
Christ.
“Hey Mike it’s Vinny. I’ve got Dan here on the line.”
You feel hungover even though you haven’t had a drink in months. The grind of the regular season is so intense that you only have bowel movements once a week and they’re perfect little efficient pellets, like a deer’s. The last thing you need is for these two clowns taunting your ulcer into returning. You can hear Snyder screaming something in the background but whatever phone they’re calling from sounds like it’s in the middle of a bathroom stall inside of a squash court.
“Anyways, I was up all night with Dan doing co...I mean studying tape and wanted to know how you felt about a trade.”
You can only imagine. Still, it’s too early to think of an excuse to hang up on the two of them, so you hear them out.
“You got that fast sumbitch what’s his name... Clinton?”
“FAST SONNOFABITCH!” Snyder adds.
“Yeah, the fast feller. Anyways we need more speed here Mike. And we’re willing to pay!”
Clinton Portis has racked up some big numbers, but you’re always willing to talk trade on a RB. Hell, you’ll take one in the 6th round next year who’ll put up 1200 yards and 11 TDs.
“What kind of trade are we talking about Vinny? Can I put you down for the standard, a first and two thirds?”
There’s silence. You know the key to dealing with Cerrato: Just. Shut. Up. No matter how long it takes for him to answer, you let him talk next.
“Uh... I was thinking a second rounder- same as you got him.”
Just. Shut. Up. Mike. Shut. Up. He’ll keep talking. You put the phone on mute so you CAN’T say anything. Wait for it. Wait...for...it.
"What the hell, we'll throw in Champ Bailey too."
There it is. You wonder if you just never responded how long it would take for him to offer Lavar Arrington and naming rights to his own son. But now you’re left at a crossroads- Champ Bailey might be the best cover CB in the past decade, but Portis is an outstanding young running back.
What do you do? Do you:
A) Hang up on Vinny?
Or
B) Do you go through with the trade?
If you said “hang up on Vinny,” start reading here:
You’re not even sure the Commissioner would accept such a trade given Cerrato’s obvious state of intoxication. You hang up on him and wonder how long he’s going to be talking into an empty phone, trying to sweeten the pot.
You never tell a soul about this phone call. These types of talks happen on a weekly basis in the NFL and most of them end up falling into the ether, only to get rehashed in someone’s memoir twenty years later.
April comes around soon enough and it looks like that offer from Gruden to give your son a job wasn't bullshit after all. You'll have to send him a basket filled with five bottles of whatever the hell he likes to drink before training camp starts. Turns out he really did get that Chris Simms tattoo, which makes you briefly consider swallowing the rest of the paint thinner you've got in the garage. The last thing you want is an offensive coordinator with two scarlet letters on his leg reminding everyone how much he believes in the worst damn quarterback prospect since Ryan Leaf. You imagine Chris' Dad probably feels the same way about Kyle, and that paint thinner seems more and more appetizing by the second. Better not paint over his old bedroom just yet.
On draft night you’ve got your big board all set up. You wish they’d just do it on a damn blackboard instead of an overhead projector. The Commissioner calls your name:
"The Denver Broncos are on the clock with the 20th pick in the NFL draft."
You can't believe your good luck. You had this guy graded out as top ten player and he fell to you. Who needs Champ Bailey when you've got a younger version of him? You pick a fella named Nnamdi Asomugha out of California.
Your Denver Broncos go 8-8 the following year, then a four game span where they win at least ten games. 2008 comes around, and Clinton is still running the ball well, but you get fired anyways. The Broncos like a young coach out of New England named Josh McDaniels. Josh doesn't like the idea of having a running back with all those miles on him, so his drafts Chris Johnson and cuts him before the last preseason game. He drafts Mark Sanchez the following year. Denver's a train wreck. McDaniels gets fired between the draft and OTAs. It's a toxic environment, and no real coaches will take Bowlen's calls. This leads to Head Coach Romanowski who earns the position through an outstanding powerpoint presentation that would be rated NC-17 in most states. The Broncos go 0-16 for two years and are named as the primary defendant in the league's concussion lawsuit. The team folds. Denver's a ski town anyways.
Meanwhile, The Washington Redskins take Steven Jackson with their fifth pick in 2004, and then with no need to draft another CB in 2005, the Redskins take Aaron Rodgers.They go on to win 3 consecutive Super Bowls and Kyle moves back in with you.
{RETURN TO START}
If you said, “go through with the trade,” start reading here:
Well you went through with the damn thing. You got Bailey, and damn was he a steal. Those blowhards in D.C. wouldn’t know what to do with a running back like Portis even if they had a coach who was born after the Great Depression.
"Classic Shanahan move," you tell yourself walking through the halls in Denver like you own the place (or at least you will in 10 years). You deal with a couple of more decent seasons and draft this smug lookin' young kid out of Vanderbilt. Got an arm like a cannon, yessir. But you're an old dog and you kind of like things the way they are for the time. Hell, you've got a great QB in Jake Plummer starting for your team. This rookie Jay whatshisname can stay on the bench and learn his craft for a few years. No harm there.
But that bastard Bowlen’s in your ear. Asking you “When’s Jay going to play?” And “Why can’t Jay start as a rookie?”
God dammit. Time to make a decision. Do you:
A) Start Jay Cutler as a rookie
or
B) Give him some time on the bench to learn
If you said “Start Jay Cutler as a rookie,” read here:
Well Jay's got a good arm alright. Takes too many chances for your taste though. Him and Brandon Marshall seem to have some chemistry working alright, and you ride the two of them to the playoffs in 2010, and 2011. Unfortunately the wheels fall off in 2012 as your running game goes out the window. Your game-plan is entirely based off passing the ball with Cutler. You fall to 5-11 and get fired. The Broncos sign Eric Mangini to be their Head Coach, draft E.J. Manuel, and go 6-10 to miss the playoffs next year. Sorry, you didn't make it. Kyle moved into your basement and started a ska band.
{RETURN TO START}
If you said “Give Cutler some time on the bench as a rookie,” read here:
Despite your owner’s pleas, you are adamant that Cutler learn behind Jake Plummer. Cutler does make the most of his time on the bench, and he is ready to go when you call his number in week 13.
Cutler puts together a couple of fine seasons for you. But the return to mediocre in 2008 seals your deal, and Bowlen sends you on your way out the door.
Meanwhile, your idiot son has dreamt up some crazy shit down in Houston. Hell, he's got Schaub looking like a competent QB, no easy task in your estimation. It does trouble you how the kid still seems to have a fixation on Simms though. That and he texts you every night about something called a "John Beck." Whatever thel hell. Doesn't matter.You play golf five days a week and sleep in all the damn time. Life's pretty good until one day you get another phone call at 5 AM.
“Mike! Mike! You asshole! It’s Dan and Vinny. Wake up!”
“The hell do you want?”
“We’ve got Kyle here. We’re down in Cancun doing lines of blow off an instagram model’s butt! This guys a party animal! Love your son! Love him!!!”
“Can I go back to sleep now?”
“Hey Mike, this is Vinny. No Dan just let me talk to him. Give me the damn phone Dan. Hey Mike, it’s Vinny. Tell you what, we’ll give you $4 million a year.”
Just. Shut. Up. Mike.
“$5 million.”
...
“Six.”
...
“Seven... seven and we’ll hire your son.”
Do you:
A) Take the offer and coach the Washington Redskins?
Or:
B) Hang up and go to sleep?
If you said “Hang up and go to sleep,” start reading here:
You enjoy your time off of coaching, and even consider taking a couple coaching jobs, but you’ve learned to love the home life. You’ve taken up painting and birdwatching, you even started brewing your own beer.
You exchange a few friendly texts with Bowlen over the years, he’s still got you in that will, and wouldn’t you know it- the Broncos end up wooing superstar Free Agent Peyton Manning into town during the 2012 offseason.
Denver gets beat by a late fourth-quarter TD pass from Baltimore’s Joe Flacco in the divisional round of the 2012 playoffs. Damn, that was close.
The next year they put together a spectacular season, and are favored to win the Super Bowl, but miss out on homefield advantage due in large part to losing a week 8 home game to the Washington Redskins and a very healthy RG3.
The Broncos have to travel to Foxboro for the AFC Championship game and lose 35-10. Kyle faked his own kidnapping in Cancun when he heard that you wouldn't get him that job. He came home after a week or so but quietly moved out after a couple months. Something about being a crab fisherman in Alaska or some shit.
{RETURN TO START}
If you said “take the job with the Washington Redskins,” start reading here:
You bring your son up to D.C. with you. You figure if you can put together one winning season he might get some job offers from people who aren’t either a) his Dad, or b) one of his Dad’s old employees. It’s a long shot but it’s worth it.
You arrive in D.C. and you’ll be damned, there’s Clinton after all these years. He still looks the same, but he’s 27 going on 43. You recognize the walk immediately, they rode him too hard, he’s done. It hurts to see a guy like that, but hell, that’s the nature of the sport.
Over the next couple years you let Kyle talk you in to bringing that John Beck thing into town, hell you even run him out there to start a few games. You also purge the roster of anything that has a "Cerrato" signature on its contract. After a couple crap seasons you notice that Peyton Manning's getting released from the Colts.You beg Dan Snyder to let you meet with him. Dan says he wants some young guy out of Baylor. You ask Dan, "Do you want the best quarterback of all time, or do you want a rookie?" Dan says he wants a rookie. Dan gets his way dammit.
You carry some resentment with you on that one. Your relationship with Snyder is never the same. But it turns out that the kid can play. Hell, he gets the Redskins your first home playoff game since 1999. Uh-oh. What’s that, the kid’s limping around out there? God dammit, Kyle’s going to keep calling designed runs for him too. Welp it’s decision time.
Do you:
A) Keep Robert Griffin III in the game?
Or
B) Take him out in favor of Kirk Cousins?
If you said “Take him out of the game,” read here:
Damn fine job you did out there. Damn fine. Kirk wasn't pretty put he did enough to win. You sent Robert to get examined and he comes back with a diagnosis of a slight tear in his MCL. You shut that kid down for the playoffs and focus on what you've got. You unfortunately lose out to the Falcons next week, but you've got something to build on.
Meanwhile Denver gets beat by a late fourth-quarter TD pass from Baltimore’s Joe Flacco in the divisional round of the 2012 playoffs. The next year they put together a solid season, but miss out on homefield advantage due in large part to losing a week 8 home game to your Washington Redskins and a very healthy RG3.
The Redskins make the playoffs for a second-consecutive year but lose in the divisional round again after Kyle starts platooning RG3 and Kirk for some reason. Snyder loves your son, the two are thick as thieves. During some God-awful weekend in Vegas Kyle convinces Dan they can win with Cousins, and Dan trades RG3 to the Dolphins for Mike Wallace and Richie Incognito. You resign on principle, and Kyle's promoted to Interim Head Coach where he firmly cements the fact that he will never get another job in the NFL as long as he lives. Kyle buys a boat and lives on some Maryland tributary for a few years until he gets some Ocean City stripper pregnant and they move back to Denver and build a guest house blocking your bedroom view. They never close their curtains.
{RETURN TO START}
If you said “Keep RG3 in the game,” read here:
The hell were you thinking? His knee gets shredded on the FedEx Field sandlot. Of course it does. it was borderline negligent of you to keep him in that game. The whole world saw he couldn’t move around but you kept him in- the hell is wrong with you anyways?
And your 2013 is a total wash because you couldn’t see that the kid needed longer than 8 months to recover from ACL surgery so you bench him “for his health” for the last 4 games of the season. You dare Snyder to fire you, which he happily does while still owing you $7 million, and wait.
Oh my God. Remember when you lost to the Broncos this year? Well they got homefield advantage by a single game. They storm through the playoffs and are playing in the Super Bowl on Sunday for your last chance to get an ownership stake in the team. More importantly, there’s still a chance for Kyle to move out of your damn house again.
And starting at Cornerback: Champ Bailey.
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