#I left room for podiums and any season highlights

[charles-leclerc-official]

Charles journal page

Full page spread of my F1 journal page for Charles, some of my favorite quotes about his love for Ferrari and his dreams.

[sergiovinazzi]

Stolen - Lando Norris x Reader (Chapter Three)

3.9k words - Rated M (language)

Here it is, my most favourite chapter to date, I hope you enjoy!

You smooth the skirt of your soft, black-linen sundress with shaky hands and pinch the bridge of your nose. You’re regretting not packing anything warmer than the denim jacket currently wrapped around your shoulders when you’re interrupted by the disgruntled sounds of your father calling your name through the phone speaker.

“What?” you ask, exasperated. “Sorry, I got distracted for a second.”

He repeats himself in annoyance, “I said, are you okay with staying at the hotel and ordering dinner for yourself?”

Staring at the restaurant in front of you, you debate whether or not to explain your situation to him. You realise, however, that he probably has enough to worry about after today’s events at Silverstone, and his daughter being out to dinner with another team’s driver probably won’t go over well.

“Yeah,” you lie. “I could use a quiet night in. Will you grab something to eat for yourself on your way back?”

Your dad hums, and you can tell that once he heard the confirmation that he didn’t need to get dinner for you, he lost interest in anything you had to say after the fact. It’s not difficult for you to understand why. Still, the lack of a verbal response worries you and you find it hard to evade the thoughts about Max and the accident. To most, the fact that he got out of the car and could walk was a good sign, but you’re still plagued by the various possibilities of what the hospital tests will conclude and just how bad the damage really is.

“Will you let me know if he’s okay?” you ask quietly, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing the phone closer to your ear, as if you could hone in on the doctor’s discussions in the background to find out whether Max was going to be alright.

Your dad simply hums again. “I’ll text you when we know more, but I’ve gotta go. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, dad,” you murmur.

His quick Bye, love you is rapidly replaced with the end-of-call dial tone.

You slip the phone into your jacket pocket and take a deep breath, preparing to head inside the restaurant. You couldn’t help but clock the bright orange McLaren already stationed in the parking lot when your Uber arrived. You recognised it from a picture in the article you read when you first learned of Lando’s incident at Wembley. You’re thankful for the sign that he’s already here and you dredge up the remaining ounces of fake confidence left in your body, making an effort to quickly smooth down your hair before you open the door and enter the restaurant.

You’re immediately overwhelmed by the sheer atmosphere of elegance. Hand-painted horizons adorn the walls, encapsulated by swirling silver frames and accentuated by the small lights stationed above each piece of artwork, their job for the night to highlight the colours and shading the artist undoubtedly spent hours perfecting.

The savoury scents of garlic and soy originate in the kitchen and permeate across the premises with ease, challenged only by the rousing aroma of the stunning frangipanis adorning the entrance.

A woman you guess to be around your age approaches you with a notepad and pen in hand. She’s dressed in a black bodycon skirt with a hem that scrapes the top of her knees; her matching coloured button up shirt is tucked in smoothly. “Hi,” she greets with a small smile, “Would you like me to show you to the bar?”

“Oh, I’m actually supposed to be meeting someone here,” you tell her, eyes scanning the room for Lando.

You see him before he sees you.

He’s tucked away at a table in the corner, his brown curls peaking over the top of the large menu he's studying.

“Found him, thanks,” you tell the waitress and she returns to her station as you make your way across the restaurant towards Lando.

He looks up from the menu as your figure appears in his peripherals and he shoots you a wave when you’re a few metres away. You return his gesture with a small laugh and he stands, walking to the front of the table to greet you.

“Hey,” he says, enveloping you in a one-armed hug. “Glad you could make it.”

“Me too. I hope you weren’t waiting long,” you tell him, noticing the almost empty glass of beer in front of him as he returns to his seat.

“It wasn’t too long, don’t worry,” he reassures you.

The reality of the situation fails to present itself to you until you and Lando are seated silently across from one another. Your stomach is tightly wound with nerves but Lando appears just as anxious, noticeably fidgeting in his seat and frequently straightening his knife and fork. He’s dressed rather sharp compared to what you’d been treated to in the past, the blue and orange race suit discarded for a crisp white button down and black dress shorts. You wonder whether the outfit you picked out is suitable for tonight, although you cut yourself some slack. When you’d packed your suitcase on Wednesday, you’d hardly expected to spend any time outside of the Red Bull garage or your hotel room, let alone situated in a restaurant that was, now very obviously, out of your price range. The thought causes you to send a silent prayer to whoever would listen that you had enough in your spending account to pay your half of the final bill tonight.

The woman who greeted you earlier approaches the table to ask what drinks the two of you would like to order.

Lando asks for a cola and you look at him in confusion.

“You’re not going to have another one?” you ask him as he hands over his empty beer glass.

“No, I’m not a big drinker,” he replies, “Especially not during the season.”

“So why did you invite me to have drinks then?” you ask, clearly amused. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Lando Norris?”

He laughs, and raises his hands in mock surrender, “Hey! No, nothing like that. I just don’t really drink, I never have.”

“Yeah I kinda noticed that actually,” you tell him. “Even on your podiums you don’t drink the champagne.”

“I thought you didn’t watch Formula 1?”

You wish you could wipe the stupid smirk off of his face as you practically watch the realisation form in his head. “Have you been watching my old races?”

“No,” you retort somewhat unconvincingly. “I found some highlights on YouTube though, and your podiums from Spielberg and Imola were on there.”

“My podium finish in Monaco is pretty good too. I’d be happy to show it to you sometime, though, it’s a shame that you find racing so boring.”

You roll your eyes and laugh. “Shut up.”

The warm glow emitting from the industrial-style bulbs resting overhead doesn’t help the blush settling on your cheeks, and neither does the grin Lando shoots you. You shrug off your jacket and place it carefully on the back of your seat just as the waitress arrives with your freshly poured Caiproska. You thank her and trace your fingers along the cool side of the glass, collecting the droplets of condensation that form in hopes that they’ll provide some sort of relief from your keen fever.

Lando’s gaze is strong enough that you feel him watching you without having to look across at him, it transcends the need for observed confirmation and instead sets your body alight merely at the thought of it. The thrum of your heart threatens to escape the confines of your chest and you stupidly pray that he doesn’t hear it as the exposed skin of your chest flushes scarlet against the dark neckline of your dress. You clasp the charm that sits at your throat, pinching it between your fingers and allowing yourself to bask in the minimal relief the cold metal provides against your warm skin.

Lando wipes his sweaty palms on his shorts and takes a deep breath. “So, that was a pretty crazy race today, huh? I didn’t think I’d be able to hold onto fourth place, not with another Ferrari behind me and Daniel.”

“Yeah, it was crazy,” is all you can reply before delving back into your pocket at what you think is the sound of your phone receiving a message.

God, he thinks, he’s boring you half to death. He finally has you all to himself and the only topic he can string more than a few words together for is his job, treating you like a reporter he’s obligated to unpack his strategy for in the paddock. He doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking nervous tonight, he wasn’t nearly this wound up when he’d asked you out. Sure, it was an effort to keep his hands from shaking as he locked his car and crossed the parking lot, but he convinced himself it was just the gentle breeze passing through the city that set his flesh alight with goosebumps. He was simply excited, more than anything, to spend some one-on-one time with someone his own age, and if that someone happened to be a pretty girl, who could blame him for looking forward to it?

But then you showed up in that dress and suddenly the possibility that he’d see you out of it by the end of the night if he played his cards right became more and more realistic. His head spins at the thought of taking you home tonight. And the next night. And suddenly the thought is replaced by the images of himself coming home to you every night. After months overseas with nothing but timezone-dependent calls he returns to the comfort of your embrace, it’s your fingers that gently scrape the back of his neck as a confirmation that he’s home. It’s the warmth of your body and the lilt of no one else’s voice that cures the cavity in his chest that enveloped him the moment he shut the apartment door behind him all those weeks ago. He sees you seated on his kitchen counter, legs swinging as the coffee brews each morning, and asleep on his couch every night even after you’d promised if he let you pick the movie you’d stay awake this time.

He knows he’s in way over his head. He only just met you, what, three days ago? Yet here he sits, wishing there was some magic rule book that could explain how he could make sure his time with you never ends. He wishes he’d met you long before this week –honestly, it feels like he’s known you for much longer–so that the heat that rises underneath his shirt and the lump in his throat doesn't lend itself to the idea that he’s just some lust-fuelled boy. Your text messages make him laugh like no one else’s have before and the thought that you were watching him this afternoon, after you weren’t initially planning to stay for the race, had him feeling more confident than he has all season.

He knows he can’t tell you all that, it’s way too soon and you’ll think he’s crazy. He has to think of something interesting to talk to you about to fill the minutes before he feels it appropriate to ask you out for a second time, but instead he sits in silence as you refuse to meet his gaze. Your eyes won’t stop lingering on your phone screen, or darting around the restaurant, undoubtedly searching for distractions. Signs on the wall you could read to pass the time until the check comes, or maybe you’re searching for a saviour, a bartender to lock eyes with who’ll answer your silent plea: get me the hell out of here. He’s caught off guard when your eyes make their way back to him, his heart skips a singular beat like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He’s preparing himself to appear nonchalant in response to the immaculately crafted excuse you’re undoubtedly about to deliver in order to explain your sudden escape from his company, when a small smile forms on your lips instead.

He smiles back.

“Sorry,” he explains. “I know I talk a lot about racing. It’s kind of my whole life at the moment so it’s easy for me to get carried away.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m kind of used to it anyway. It’s basically all we talk about at the dinner table when my dad’s home.”

“Well, what do you like to talk about? I saw on your Instagram that you’re studying advertising, tell me something about that.”

You smile at his consideration and tell him all about your degree. How you’ve always had an interest in design and noticed how it could be used to turn a profit, right from when you would try your hand at creating the posters for your school’s bake sales and car washes. You tell him the story of your first paid commission for a digital advertisement, an intricately crafted Instagram post for an up-and-coming clothing boutique based in London. He asks questions in all the right places and offers his congratulations when you show him screenshots of some of your most successful work.

Conversation ebbs and flows easily throughout the night, the nerves that had you second guessing your decision to come earlier tonight eradicated. The food is tremendous, and your company even better. Your waitress returns with the final bill for the night and Lando hands his card over without hesitation.

“Hey, no,” you say. “Let me pay for my half.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. “This was my way of repaying you for bringing my watch back, remember?”

Oh. That’s all tonight was for. He felt obligated to spend money on you in return for the trouble you’d gone through to return his stolen timepiece to him.

“When I talked to the police they said they could get me the money back once the guy was caught,” you stress. “So, you don’t need to do that.”

He brushes your statement off with a wave of his hand and smiles when the waitress returns with his card and a receipt.

Your mind mistakes the reverberation of champagne flutes clinking together for the chime of your text tone and you instinctively reach into your purse, hoping to see the screen alight with good news. You’d settle for any news really, so long as it meant you would finally get a clear picture of what was going on, and you could stop embellishing the details of the worst case scenario you had designed in your head.

A 51G impact like the one you had witnessed today can do a lot of damage to the body, whether visible from the outside or not, and you hoped, more than anything, that the helmet and halo were enough to protect Max from anything more than a few minor scrapes and bruises.

You’re lost in a world of nightmarish outcomes until you remember where you are. Lando’s face is contorted in a concerned frown across from you.

“Everything alright?” he asks gently.

“Yeah, sorry, I thought I heard my phone go off but it must’ve been something else.”

“It’s getting pretty noisy in here, do you want to head outside?” he offers.

“Okay.”

———

In the slight summer breeze you observe the moonlight washing across Lando’s figure, illuminating his features softly and elucidating the closeness of his face to yours. The proximity allows you to easily breathe in the pleasant cedarwood undertones of the cologne that adorns his skin, and allows him to imagine the sweet ropy flavour undoubtedly lingering on your tongue from the maraschino cherries you’d so delicately placed between your teeth throughout night.

The crinkles that form at the edges of his eyes as he meets your gaze with a smile are priceless. You wish you could bottle the feeling they give you and save it for a day you need it most.

“I had a nice time,” he tells you, practically beaming. “I can’t remember the last time I went out after a race and talked about stuff other than racing.”

“Yeah it was nice, dinner was really good too.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you stand in silence while you wait for your Uber to arrive. Lando had insisted on driving you back to your hotel but you knew his car would cause a fuss so you declined and told him you had an Uber discount code that was due to expire. You make an effort to seem fascinated by the cracks in the sidewalk and Lando acts intrigued by the streetlights, both of you dancing around the question that lingers unspoken in the air.

Are we going to meet up again?

The alert on your phone informs you that your driver is only a minute away.

“He’s almost here,” you tell Lando. “Thank you so much for paying for dinner, you really didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s okay!” he insists. He shifts his weight on his feet before offering his arms to you.

You accept his invitation and hug him goodbye. You can’t help but notice the heat radiating through his thin shirt and feel his heart hammering between your two chests. His fingertips burn brands into your skin as they rest softly on your back and when he pulls back from you his hands don’t move an inch.

You catch his gaze and feel his thumb sweep softly over the fabric of your dress, underneath your jacket, before his lips meet yours in a searing kiss.

You’re caught off guard to say the least. His hands are hot on your back but his lips are soft and you’d be lying if you said they weren’t sending your head into a frenzy.

The rest of the day’s events are temporarily overruled by Lando kissing you; lying to your dad about where you are, wishing you could celebrate Lando’s fourth place finish with him in his garage, the repetitive questions aimed at you by the police that had you exhausted by mid morning, let alone Max’s accident.

Max.

And suddenly it’s not Lando’s but another pair of lips that are on yours, larger and hungrier and they come with a devastating reminder of what it’s like to sneak around with a Formula 1 driver. The lying and heartache that you remember all too clearly to feel like the kind of falling that jolts you awake from dreams.

You pull back and place your hands on Lando’s shoulders, staring down.

He’s instantly apologetic, bringing a hand through the front of his hair. “Sorry, I thought…fuck, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say, removing your hands and wrapping them around yourself. “It’s okay, um my car’s here anyway so I gotta go.”

He just nods and shoves his hands into his pockets.

The slamming of the car door feels like a hammer pounding in Lando’s head. For a moment he had you. In his hand was the opportunity to make something great out of your meeting, but he wrapped his fingers inward and crushed it in an instant.

———

When you wake the next morning, your head remains sore from the screeching of car engines throughout your eventful weekend. Though not particularly unbearable at the time, the accumulation of noise over the three days you were at the track had definitely built up.

Instinctively, you check your phone, assuming that you would be confronted with your typical notifications: a recommended Instagram account, a liked Tweet, maybe even a text. You know you’re being optimistic to expect anything from Lando, your mind refusing to stop reminding you of how awkward you had made your time together the night before. Still, you yearn for any sort of reassurement that it wasn’t as bad as your overthinking had made it out to be.

You read the time and see that it’s almost noon. You know that your dad will be out until around two o’clock, already fussing about with work related ordeals in order to have things perfect for the race in Hungary. When you eventually awaken enough to read the notifications on your phone, you find it difficult to hide your surprise as you find a text and missed call from Lando, the nervous feeling that you endured last night returns, sinking into your stomach like a stone.

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I had a really nice time last night :) Sorry if I was too forward at the end, I hope it didn’t ruin your night or anything.

Biting back a smile as you read the text, your mind is put at ease as you realise that he enjoyed himself as much as you did. You’re tempted to text him back immediately and tell him that he’s being silly, that of course he didn’t ruin your night. You wish you could explain your situation with Max and how, if it were any other night than the one your ex-boyfriend spent in hospital, you would have kissed Lando back. However, your plan to reply is thwarted as you notice the notification that informs you Lando also left you a voicemail. He must have called some time after sending his initial text message. Finger hovering over the play button, you are hopeful that it’s further kind words about your time together, or perhaps an invitation for a second ‘date’. If you could call it that. Nevertheless, you push the button.

The disappointed sigh he lets out causes your heart to stutter, before his voice crackles through the phone speaker.

“Hey, it’s me. Sorry for calling, I know I already texted you and um… I hate that I have to do this but I think it would be better for you to hear it from me instead of finding out online or something. I’ve just seen that someone got pictures of us together last night. I didn’t think anyone who knew me would be there but I guess it was still close enough to Silverstone that someone recognised who I was. I’m really sorry, but if it is any help I don’t think anyone recognised you because your face isn’t really in the photos. I’m trying to get them taken down and it’s not really on Instagram or in the news or anything, but lots of people on Twitter are talking about it. If there’s anything that I can do, please let me know. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen at his words, breath hitching in your throat as you process it. You replay the message over and over, as if hearing it multiple times will change the bad news Lando delivers each time. Instinctually, you close the app and scrub your hands over your face. You wonder about what exact kind of picture the photos he’s referring to imply. Does it paint a picture that could get you in trouble?

What about Lando?

Fuck.

What about your dad?

Your stomach drops at the thought of him seeing them. Getting caught lying about your whereabouts was one thing, but being caught with Lando Norris while you promised you were tucked up in the confines of your hotel room opens up a whole new world of possible consequences.

As if the universe can read your mind, it delivers your worst nightmare to you on a silver platter, piping hot and laced with venom.

A notification appears from your dad.

Call me when you’re awake.

-------

tag list @lovebynorth @its-astrotea-love​ 

[sharperthewriter]

Chapter 1 of the 16th Kim Possible Fannies Awards - Ceremony

From the desks of Sharper, BCBDrums and Gothicthundra.

(AN: Due to a change in scheduling with the upcoming football season coming up for me in August (I usually do the football stats for my local high school and juco teams here, in case if anyone new in the Kimmunity is curious) , I've decided that it would be best for me to upload the remaining chapters of the Prelude to the 16KPFA on the other story and upload the highlights of the Ceremony as a separate story to A) make the uploading go a lot faster, B) take a lot of pressure off of me of uploading chapters on a weekly basis because of the stress of doing football stats and C) allow me more time to do my own KP stories. -Sharper)

The story is still going to be rated T due to some strong language, some cartoon action violence, some suggestive comments, and brief use of alcohol.

Kim Possible, characters and settings, are created by Schooley and McCorkle and (c) by Disney. Any OC I create is my own. Any OC that I do not create is created by the owner of that OC.

So with that being said, here is the second half of the 16th KP Fannies: The Ceremony!

Chapter 1 - A (Socially-Distanced) Introduction

(7:04pm, March 11, 2021)

Ron's words echoed through the Colorado countryside.

Two weeks...two weeks...two weeks.

(Six Months Later, September 22, 2021, 4:19pm)

The world looks indeed different for the Possible-Stoppables than the one they left behind in early March. Automatic hand sanitizer dispensers, plastic barriers, social distancing markers, and sanitation crews were a common sight throughout Middleton. Quarantines and self-isolations if tested positive for the TEVID virus were also common as well. Furthermore, there was a mask mandate that had been in place since March. A vaccine for the TEVID virus was close to being developed.

Meanwhile, the Kimmunity Council were still holding meetings on where the 16th KP Fannies Awards were to be held since the Colorado governor has officially reopened theaters, opera houses and other places of entertainment, albeit only at 25% capacity. Due to the pandemic, all of the Council's meetings had to be held online.

Sharper was in the main media room titled "Council Rock" at Bonnie's opulent and extremely expensive mansion. He was talking with BCB, Split-n-splice, Eoraptor, Tennente, Whitem, CajunBear, Daccu, and MrDrP via video-conferencing.

"So what do you think we should do for the 16th Fannies if they are to remain on-schedule?" Whitem asked.

"Hold them at the North Memorial Theater?" came Daccu's reply.

"Yeah, I think we should do that." Sharper said, "But we need to limit the audience for this year's ceremony to just nominees, presenters, and members of the press. Twenty-five percent should be around 400 people."

Raptor agreed with Sharper.

"I think that would satisfy the governor's requirements for the seating capacity." he said.

"Plus, there should be testing for the audience for the virus as well." BCB added.

"Yes." agreed Sharper on the decision.

He then also laid out the other health protocols that will be in effect for the ceremony.

"We should also close off every other row as well, as well as adding those automatic hand sanitizers as well. Masks are going to be mandatory as well. The only time during the ceremony that we should take masks off is when we are speaking at the podiums, which will be 12 feet apart from each other."

"Are we all in agreement on these measures to protect ourselves against the virus?"

The other members of the Council agreed to these decision and decided, unanimously, that the date of the ceremony will be October 16 and the date of the 17th KP Fannies ceremony will be on June 7 of the next year in conjunction with the KP show's 20th anniversary.

The former day was also when the TEVID vaccine was to be released, first to the medical and those that were classified as essential workers.

(GJ Headquarters, October 13, 2021: three days before the ceremony, 9:06am)

Kim was working at her desk in her office. She, alongside with the rest of the Global Justice crew, had to wear masks that covered their mouth and nose, for they were still under the mask mandate of the state of Colorado.

She was wearing a black pantsuit with her GJ identification badge. She was combing through surveillance videos and photos.

Ron was outside her office. He had a professional-looking polo shirt and plaid khaki pants. Like his wife, he too had his GJ ID badge as well (though he had accidentally forgotten it on a couple of occasions). He also had a face mask as well as does Rufus.

"I'm trying to figure out these thefts!" Kim grunted, sifting through the paperwork "And it vexes me so!"

Ron tapped on the side of the steel door.

"May I come in, Agent K-P-S?" Ron grinned.

"Permission granted, Agent R-P-S!" Kim said, chuckling a little.

The steel doors to Kim's office whoosed opened as Ron came in.

"I totally like the doors that go whoosh." Ron said, "Remind me to get those doors for my office!"

"Can't." Kim smirked, "It's not in the budget!"

"Aww man!" Ron complained.

Then he got back to the task at hand.

"So how many thefts have we got going on?" he asked.

"It's been four jewel heists in June and July." Kim replied, pointing to the photos. "First, Starlet's jewelry collection worth $1.5 million was stolen in the dead of night. Then, the Holsten Twins were robbed of $4 million in jewels and diamonds. Next was MC Honey, who had $8 million in her jewels nabbed as well. And lastly, Britina, who had $14 million stolen of her jewelry as well."

"Wow! What are the connections to it?" Ron asked.

"Well, all involved celebrities and all involved multi-million dollar thefts." Kim explained as she shuffled through the surveillance photos. "And based of security camera footage, we do know that two thieves are involved. One man and one woman." She pointed to the figures of a man and woman, obviously covered in black.

"Man...they do move fast!"

"But as we move on into September..." Kim said, pointing to more surveillance photos, "...the thefts got bigger. Two in particular were of interest."

She continued on the details.

"About $31 million of jewels and expensive watches were stolen from a New York hotel three weeks ago for a promotional event on September 4th! And not more than two weeks later, on the 19th, $70 million in jewels and artwork were stolen from the daughter to an multi-multi-billionaire electric car company CEO. And those two robberies involved a team of at least 6-8 people, but two of the thieves have the same height and build from the celeb thefts."

"And from that electric car company CEO mansion's crime scene, they left behind these playing cards with letters on the back of them in permanent marker, but I can't figure it out."

Kim had 16 playing cards on them and the letters were written as follows CAWLRORKLEL and the numbers 126110.

"What could it mean?" she asked, being puzzled about it. Rufus jumped onto the table.

"I'm in the same position as you are, KPS." Ron said.

"Let's think about it first, Ron. They all involved high-profile events and people, they all target jewelry, sometime paintings, and the thefts keep on getting bigger and bigger." Kim said.

"Which means their next target would have to involve something big, something grander." Ron said.

Rufus tapped his paw against his face and figured it out. He arranged the letters and the numbers.

"But who would be wealthy enough to be such a target?" Kim questioned, tapping her head with her fingers.

Both Kim and Ron then heard Rufus chittering loudly.

"Rufus? What is it, buddy?"

Rufus chittered and repeatedly pointed with his paw on what he did with the playing cards.

Kim and Ron took one look and gasped.

"That's it! That is their next target!"

It said, ROCKWALLER 101621.

"It makes sense!" Kim exclaimed "She has the largest collection of jewelry known to mankind...The Rockwaller Family Jewels."

"We have to warn her!" Ron shouted.

(4 days earlier, October 9, 2021)

"Sharper, we got a big sitch here!"

BCB came running down one of the main hallways of Bonnie's mansion, which has now expanded to 300 bedrooms and 525 bathrooms with the completion of a recent addition.

She knocked on the door of Sharper's office.

"Come in!" came Sharper's reply.

BCB came running as fast as she could to his desk.

"Hey...BCB! Slow down!" Sharper insisted. "What's wrong!"

"The Timothy North Theater...was overwhelmed with a swarm of roaches and rats!" BCB exclaimed. She showed Sharper the pictures of the rats chewing on the seats of the chairs.

"Oh no! We're gonna have to get an exterminator...no, several exterminators...to get rid of these pests!" Sharper shuddered at the sight of the animals. "What about the Golden Rufuses?"

"They are safe in a truck in Denver and await your signal." BCB informed him.

"Since the North Theater has been infested with rats, I think we should move the 16th Fannies to the Rockwaller Opera House." Sharper said, "The date of the 16th will remain the same. I'm gonna have to probably send out a mass email, informing members of the Kimmunity about the change in venue."

(back to Oct. 13, 2021, 6:12pm)

"So what you're saying is that my family heirlooms are in danger of being stolen?" Bonnie asked.

She, Kim, Ron (and Rufus), Betty Director, Sharper and BCB were at Bonnie's main opulent mansion. Bonnie, of course, was not the same mean Bonnie as before after the three spirits of Christmas visited her last year.

"That's correct, Miss Rockwaller." Betty replied, "There were a couple of recent high-profile robberies with valuable stolen worth in the millions. We fear that your collection may be the next target."

"Well, my collection of Rockwaller valuables, including some really expensive Faberge eggs, are worth around $400 million." Bonnie said as she adjusted her engagement ring from Senor Senior Junior since they were engaged in January, prior to the pandemic. "And my uncles would really have a hissy-fit if any of the valuables ended up missing from Rockwaller property. Though it is protected by layers of security from the last time."

"Probably the reason why you would need the extra security with GJ, My Queen." Sharper said.

"And with the North Theater somehow being infested with vermin, the scene's gonna shift to your opera house." BCB added.

Bonnie agreed. "Yeah, Drums..."

"Uhh, Bonnie, please call me BCB." BCB corrected her.

"Right...right...BCB. Yeah, I gotta obey the guv's protocols of social distancing and health sanitizers and all that stuff." Bonnie said.

"Sharper, do you think these two events with the planned robbery and the infesting of the North Theater with animals are connected?" Kim asked Sharper.

"I don't know if it is...but if something weird does happen in the ceremony, we'll find out." Sharper said to Kim.

Bonnie replied with confidence, "Don't worry, Kim. Even with this pandemic, we're going to have a normal ceremony with nothing weird happening!"

"I sure do hope so, Bonnie." Kim said. _

(October 10, 2021, 1:55pm)

A brown sedan approached a nearby abandoned warehouse in downtown Middleton. The driver of the sedan scanned his ID badge in as the garage to the warehouse opened, giving him access. The sedan rolled in slowly before coming to a complete stop.

The two occupants got out of the sedan, one male and one female. The male thief was named Cody. He, in his mid 30s and with dark black hair and green eyes, had been an accomplice to several of the high-profile robberies of celebrities, including that of Starlet and MCHoney and has been wanted in four states. He was also an expert in creating tranquilizers to sedate any security guards and was also an expert in evidence cleanup.

The female thief, Amy, was considered to be the mastermind of the mentioned celeb thefts. She too was in her mid 30s, and had blonde hair and blue eyes and was wanted in seven states for the robberies.

They were part of a five-member team that often love to steal from houses of the wealthy and famous from around the globe. They were considered masters of disguise and often baffled police, which was the reason why the authorities contacted Global Justice for help. It was also because that they had help from HenchCo with a few henchmen serving as extra muscle to complement the group.

The other three members were a male and two females: Troy, Laura, and Emily. Troy handled the security detail, Laura and Emily were the most capable fighters of the group, for both had fifth-degree black belts. They were also all in their mid-30s. Troy also normally served as the getaway driver/pilot for the group.

Cody and Amy also got some Bueno Nacho to go as well. The Bueno Nacho #582 in Middleton had re-adjusted its dining room so that it roped off selected booths to maintain social distancing. It also annoyed Ron as well because their normal booth was roped off.

"What took you two so long?" Troy muttered.

"Don't blame me for their 6-feet social distancing bullshit." Cody replied while setting the food down.

"Did you also get extra Diablo sauce for my Naco?" Laura asked.

"Got some in the bag!" Cody added, pointing to the familiar packets.

"Let's set up the food first before we begin our biggest operation yet." Amy spoke, "Operation Mt. Rockwaller!"

The four other thieves agreed.

(30 minutes later)

While they were eating, Amy brought up the first instance of the planned Rockwaller theft.

"I think what we should do is to go in around 9pm, right when the 16th KP Fannies Ceremony is at the half-way point of the ceremony." she suggested, "We will go in four unmarked vans onto that access road that usually supplies her vendors and food to her servants, butlers, and maids. Three of the vans should contain the henchmen while the fourth will contain the four of us. Cody will be on the inside posing as a member of the press. Troy's MIT degree will serve us well in knocking out all the security cams at the Rockwaller mansion."

"So the next order of business is going to be that gate that leads directly into the mansion." Cody then said. "That area has two layers of automatic spike strips against any unauthorized vehicle and her mansion, I bet to you, is going to crawl with her personal security force."

"Right! We're going to knock out the security guards with this!" Amy said while she held up the standard-issue HenchCo knockout gas canister and HenchCo tranquilizer darts. "As for those spikes, Troy again will disable them."

"That is all well and good, but we will need a distraction." Emily suggested.

"Yeah, Global Justice will be on our asses even if we do steal the diamonds!" Laura added while chewing through her Naco.

"That is the reason why the Boss Lady who hired us for the job planned ahead!" Amy chuckled, mentioning her very rich benefactor, but not by name. "She has had this person broken out of jail not more than a week ago!"

Amy tossed a recent copy of the Middleton Examiner and saw that Glame Dover (aka Game Controller) had escaped from jail after a robbery a couple months ago that involved the stealing of the Z-Boy III technology from Japan that was, thankfully, foiled by GJ.

"The Boss Lady's army of superhackers blocked information of the escape from getting it out to local police departments and criminal agencies, including Global Justice." Amy explained while typing on her laptop, explaining their plan, "Like Cody, he will be posing as a member of the press. With the help of the Boss Lady, he had helped developed a new video game arcade machine that will be placed in the gaming arcade that is right next to the opera house. So that when they go into the lobby area for intermission, some of the nominees may try to play the game. But what they don't know is that it is a mind-controlling device! Once they play it, they will become mindless putty controlled by Game Controller! That will buy us some time in order for us to escape with as many of the Rockwaller diamonds as we can possibly hold...including the rarest one of all!"

She swiveled her laptop to a pink diamond.

"The Pink R! Worth around $18 million!" Amy exclaimed.

"Double that if we get it on the black market!" Cody added.

"Global Justice won't know what'll hit them!" Laura cackled.

"And we will become extremely rich!" Amy laughed evily.

The other thieves joined in on the evil laughter and continued plotting along.

(October 16, 2021, 6:59pm)

And so, the night of the ceremony of the 16th Annual Kim Possible Awards finally came. Unlike in years past, there was no red carpet ceremony. Furthermore, every other section of seats in the opera house was roped off and the 300 spectators (some select members of the Kimmunity, the nominees who could come, the awards presenters, and a few members of the press) were all spaced around the auditorium. They were all wearing masks, as per the requirement of the governor and the smell of hand sanitizer was still fresh. There was also no orchestra as well.

On the stage, two podiums were set about 15 feet apart from each other on the left and right. A table was also there as well with the 33 Golden Rufuses all polished (and sanitized) for everyone's convenience.

Backstage, Sharper broke with tradition from wearing his seersucker suit. Since it was in the cleaners, he opted for the black tuxedo instead. BCB was wearing (inserting what dress she was planning to wear here).

Both were wearing masks as well.

"BCB, I always worry about the ceremony going crazy at some point!" Sharper said as BCB adjusted his tie.

"Sharper, you worry too much about it." BCB laughed, "Nothing's gonna go wrong!"

"Sure do hope so!" Sharper replied before noticing the female stagehand tapping her watch on her hand.

"That's our cue!" BCB said. "Strike up the music."

Since there was no orchestra to play the KP Orchestral Theme, the stagehand had a CD Player that was attached to the opera house's sound system. She put the CD labeled "KIM POSSIBLE ORCHESTRAL THEME" into the player.

The theme began to play as the voiceover said:

Welcome to the 16th Annual Kim Possible Fannies Awards. Give it up for your hosts: BCBDrums and Sharper the Writer.

The ceremony carried a TV-14 rating for Dialogue, Language, Sex, and Violence.

Once the song died down, BCB and Sharper stood 8 feet apart from each other and the podiums were rolled over to them. The crowd stood on their feet and applauded the hosts. Both the hosts removed their masks.

"Good evening, and welcome everyone to the 16th Annual Kim Possible Fannies Awards!" BCB exclaimed. "I am your hostess for the evening, BCB Drums, and of course you know my co-host as Sharper the Writer!"

"Yep, I am here for the...is it fourth ceremony I hosted or co-hosted?" Sharper asked.

"That's correct! Me and GT hosted last year's ceremony before all the craziness happened." BCB replied. "Within the craziness that was 2020 with all the lockdowns, we as the Kimmunity were able to publish just about 500 stories last year.

"That is, if you can take BCB and GT's Little Ones and Lipsky Family Tales, respectively, into the totals." Sharper added.

"The number is, in of itself, impressive, considering that KP's been off the air for 13 years." BCB said.

"It serves as a testament to the dedication we, the members of the Kimmunity, have for our favorite redhead." Sharper replied.

"Or favorite brunette cheerleader, in your case." BCB snickered as the audience gave a light laugh.

BCB then continued.

"Anyways, we want to give thanks to the people out there in the medical field who put their lives on the line every day in the middle of this pandemic!"

The audience applauded what BCB said.

BCB then explained the layout of the ceremony.

"For tonight's ceremony, it is going to be 4 hours long divided into two 2-hour segments with a 20-minute intermission inbetween the Most Unlikely-Unique Story and Best OneShot (K-T)categories. We'll have a variety of awards presenters: some who are in the audience, and some who will be in virtual."

"And before we go to commercial..." Sharper added, "As per the tradition of the KP scribes and elders..."

BCB then finished his sentence, "...here are the winners from last year's..."

"Pre-Pandemic!" Sharper interrupted.

BCB glared at him before saying, "...ceremony."

One by one, the awards for last year's ceremony were presented with a picture of the recipient and what category they won with elevator music playing in the background.

The 15th KP Fannies Awards Winners (2019)

Best KP-Style Name - Mary Juana and Canna Abis - Stoppable Family Vacation - Sharper

Best KP OC - Anna Stoppable - This Is Our Year: college - F86Sabre53

Best Minor Character - Tara&Hope - TIOY: College - F86Sabre53

Best Villain - BattleF'yuri – All Things Possible 4 - Slyrr

Best AU - Never Be Normal - Maeph93

Best Crossover - A Possible Encounter For a Phantom (DP) - Neomark

Best Alt-Other Canon Pair - The Tweeb and the Queen Bee (Tim/Bonnie) - MD Michael

Best Kigo - An Unforgettable Sitch - iycewing

Best Drakgo - RTOD - Gothicthundra

Best Kim/Ron - What's the Alma Mater - MrDrP

Best Comedy - Adventures in Babysitting - Gothicthundra

Best Romance - KP: Sitch of Summer - Beatlestributeman

Best Friendship - The Greatest Man I Never Knew - Leon R. Patterson

Best Action Adventure - TIOY College - F86Sabre53

Best Drama - Forefit - BCBDrums

Most Unlikely-Unique Story - Ron's Groovy Sitch -Senaraft

Best One-Shot (K-T) - Scared of the Dentist - F86Sabre53

Best Novel-Sized Story (K-T) - United and Divided - Librana

Best Short Story (K-T) - A Most Unusual Gift - Mahler Avatar

Best Series - Things Change Series - Gothicthundra

Best M-Rated Novel-Sized Story - College Spring Break - Chris Palmer

Best M-Rated Short Story - Beyond Graduation – Aleego

Best M-Rated One Shot - Shattered - IcarusTheFoxkidd

Best Young Author - Iycewing

Best New Author - Gothicthundra

Best Single Line - United and Divided by Librana - "No, you were made for me. Literally." (Kim referring to Eric). -

Neb Award - Daccu65

Kimmunity Achievement - Sharper

Best Reviewer - CajunBear73

Best Story of 2019 - RTOD - Gothicthundra

Best Writer of 2019 - Gothicthundra

And as the final group picture of all the recipients of the 15th Fannies was shown, the screen faded to black. And with it came the traditional Kimmunicator beep.

"Ahh...the Kimmunicator beep!" Sharper remarked.

"Which means that we are coming up on our first commercial break of the evening!" BCB remarked, "But when we come back, we'll present the first two awards: Best KP-Style Name and Best KP Original Character! So stay tuned!"

"Before You Go" by Lewis Capaldi played in the background.

[jostenminyard]

Signing on the Line - Ch. 1 & 2

Summary: When Neil Josten is offered a position as a starting striker for a professional Exy team, he feels like all of his dreams are coming true. He signs the contract, not caring about the strict morality clause that controls who he can and can't date in the public eye.

Then he meets Andrew Minyard, the top-ranked goalie of a rival team, and then Neil thinks he might just have to care after all.

A/N: Detailed tag list and warnings on AO3. I’m posting around twice a week there, and will round up the chapters once a week here!

Chapter 1 on AO3 | Chapter 2 on AO3 

The contract was read by his manager first, then his lawyer, his manager again, and then finally given to Neil.

He had a week to read it over, and he took to every word like they were something sacred, like he needed to memorize all of it. He hardly understood a thing, but was fortunately smart enough to not let his eagerness of being signed cloud his judgement.

From that first day in little league, to his last day at the University of Arizona, he’s been working towards a contract like this all his life. Playing for the pros, he’d be larger than his own existence. His name would grow to be bigger than his body, no longer associated with anything else, attached to Exy and only Exy, longer than he’d ever be alive.

In the heat of the moment, the fruition of a dream, he almost signed the contract before he even read the opening statement.

But thankfully, he didn’t, so now he sits here in his manager’s office with his manager, his lawyer, the head coach of the team, and one of their recruiters.

The lawyer goes over all the parts Neil had highlighted, the parts he couldn’t quite grasp. The salary he understood and thought of as unimportant, but the sponsor part, not so much, so his lawyer helpfully explains the process; a proceed of any profit made from a sponsorship or ad goes directly back to the team’s management.

His lawyer says the percentage is negotiable, but Neil waves it off. Money is the last thing he’s playing for.

When they get to the public relations section, everyone in the small room grows tense, aware of who Neil is, who Neil was.

He was a Wesninski, but Neil had left that name in his past long before he ever attended UOA. He hadn’t known what that name even meant until a camera crew showed up at his stadium and deemed him ‘The Butcher’s Son’.

Neil’s mother never did explain it, never told him why he had to be Alex, Stefan, Chris and then Neil Josten, of all names, and that he could never again be Nathaniel Wesninski after his father passed away. He was too young to ask why, so it was a new name and a new home every few years until his mother too, had to move on from life.

She died with her sickness and with every secret and with the very strict order to be anyone else but himself.

It made for a very interesting start to Neil’s final year of university, to be cut from class so he could be interrogated by the FBI. But Neil didn’t know anything; who his father was, what his father did, what his mother told him, where the money went.

Mary hadn’t told Neil a thing, so he could never be incriminated.

But the name stuck - Nathaniel Wesninski, the son of a murderer - and it made captaining his team all that much harder. Working with a team that refused to listen to him and was sickened by the sight of him made for some very easy losses, and prevented them from entering semi-finals.

It had every recruiter turning their gaze away from Neil, writing him off as unimportant, even though he was fighting with every tooth and nail to rally his team together.

Somehow, however, one pair of eyes stayed on him, and those eyes weren’t able to deny his talent.

Those eyes brought Neil here, to the San Francisco Seakings.

Here, to where he’s about to sign the contract of his dreams, except for one little thing:

The contract is a story, a script, and his freedom of speech has been stripped.

Every interview, TV spot and paparazzi picture will all be handled by someone above Neil’s head. He’ll be assigned his own publicist to go over media training with him, to create plans and strategies, and to control all his social media accounts from here on out.

But . . . he doesn’t care about any of that, not really. He’s here to play. He’s used to being anyone but himself.

They go over a few more things about his image clean up. It’s already been decided how Neil will be marketed - the official partner of Kevin Day. The rookie that’s going to help Kevin bring his team up the ranks, the same way Neil was able to run UOA up until his fifth year.

Kevin’s eyes were the ones on him, apparently, when Neil was sure nobody was watching him.

The talk of PR naturally brings up the part in the contract that had Neil scratching his head in confusion the most, because he didn’t understand how ‘dating and relationship(s)’ could be associated with playing for the pros.

It’s apparently a very big association, as it takes up a large paragraph in his contract.

Like everything about his own life so far, who he dates can only be shown in the limelight if it’s beneficial for him, the team, and the sponsors. As if Neil is nothing more than a special-edition trading card.

Any celebrity, from A to Z, could end up on Neil’s arm at some point. If it’d help his image, bring in sales, increase viewership, the Seakings’ PR team will be signing a check to whatever starlet’s name is most popular at the time.

It’s about image.

A morality clause; saying that his name must be publicized a certain way, and if he acts against it, Neil will be, in other words, slapped with a legal fee to cover the cost of potential damage, and be forced to forfeit his contract.

The black words on the paper don’t say he can’t be anything outside the ‘norm’, but they do say he can’t be perceived as such. Neil scowls at the wording, sending a scathing look at everyone in the room, hoping it’ll somehow reach whichever airhead wrote that and felt that they got to decide what normal is.

He stares down at his dream contract and suddenly sees it as a pair of handcuffs.

“I’m not comfortable with signing that,” Neil explains, and waves a hand at the thick binding of paper.

“It’s not real, Neil, it’s a show. It brings in the viewers and the ticket holders, which then raises the amount the sponsors are willing to put in,” his manager explains, as if it’s all obvious. “Every player you’ve ever seen in a game has signed this part of the contract. It’s nothing.”

“This basically says you’re forcing players out of their orientations,” Neil says, one eyebrow lifting. “That’s nothing?”

“Listen, kid, nobody’s forcing anybody. It doesn’t matter if you’re gay, straight, whatever, because we’re not saying you can’t be,” Coach Mullens suddenly says. “The world just can’t know and that’s how it is. If you want a career, then you’ll keep your secret love a secret and away from my court. If that’s gonna be a problem, then you’ll never find your footing in this world, I can promise you that.”

Neil hears the click of metal, the handcuffs sliding into place. “For the rest of my life?”

“You wouldn’t be considering this contract if you didn’t want to play Exy for the rest of your life.”

And that’s what it all comes back to, the handcuffs sliding off, the room tilting back into colour.

Exy.

It doesn’t really matter to him anyway, does it? He’s yet to encounter anyone electric enough to spark up his skin. Nothing will shock him as much as this sport does.

If they want to control who he holds hands with just to make a profit, then he won’t stop them, because it won’t stop him from his game. It won’t stop him from winning medals and trophies and championships. It won’t stop him from standing on an Olympic podium one day.

So he picks up the pen, signs the contract, and doesn’t think another thought about it.

-

He can’t believe he ever thought it was as easy as just playing Exy.

The season officially starts in October, training starts in August, but now, mid-July, he stands in his manager’s hotel room as a stylist yanks him into a black velvet suit. The first step to playing for a professional team, it seems, is attending charity event after sponsorship dinner after press conference after banquet after charity event. And repeat.

Tonight the NEL hosts its debut banquet, with every team attending, with every sports journalist in the country going to try and snatch as many first-time interviews as they can.

His manager and his publicist have been drilling him all week, preparing him for whatever questions may be asked and how he’s supposed to respond. His publicist will never be more than ten feet away, and in case that fails, and in case Neil’s mouth gets away from him, Kevin Day will be attached to his hip.

Neil would complain that he doesn’t need a babysitter, but he understands the role he’s playing now.

The Exy world knows who Neil is, knows that Kevin’s the one who saved his career. They’ve only exchanged the barest of words so far, but Kevin and Neil are far past the point of being teammates now. They’re to be a pair.

One of the dynamic duos that fans go crazy over. If successful, their names will be on shirts, hats, signs. When you hear the name Day, Josten will never be far behind.

It just sucks that nothing in his life is under his control. He doesn’t even get to choose the colour of his socks tonight.

A town car arrives to pick Neil up, Kevin already sitting inside, dressed in a similar suit. His tie is aqua, Neil’s is silver; the two colours of their team.

“All this for a game?” Neil asks, as they draw closer to the banquet. From the car he can see the red carpet, the security guards, the paparazzi and the news teams and journalists and the flashing cameras. “We’re athletes, not celebrities.”

Kevin hasn’t said a word to him all throughout the ride, and he doesn’t bother to meet Neil’s eyes, choosing instead to look out the window at the awaiting media frenzy. “In this world, it’s the same thing. Most people like it.”

Neil swallows roughly, and wonders for a split second if this is what he was really made for. “Are you one of them?” he asks, his voice slightly shaking.

Nothing in Kevin shakes. He’s been playing for this team for two years. He’s walked this red carpet before.

“I get paid to play something I would pay to play. It works for me.”

The words effectively stop the race to Neil’s heart. The words latch onto him and pull up the corners of his mouth, releasing the smallest of smiles. The words are exactly what Neil needed to hear.

“Then it’ll work for me.”

There’s a roar of a crowd once they step out of their car. Immediately they’re met by flashing white lights and their names being called, security trying to hold back aggressive reporters from crossing their line.

Kevin smiles, tight and clipped but somehow wide, his signature look. Neil’s publicist instructed him to leave behind the hard, jagged, bitter mess of what he was at UOA. His script tonight says to smile, smile, smile, be warm, be forgiving.

If Kevin can do it, then he can do it.

Their publicists push them past certain reporters, usher them closer to others, and Neil answers the questions that come his way as best he can, actively trying to be on his best behaviour, to be the face they want him to be.

Kevin’s partner; the untapped potential that Kevin saved, pulled from the rubble of a crumbling career and given another chance.

If that’s the story they want to portray then he’ll play it, as long as he gets to play his own game. That’s the one thing they can’t control; how hard he hits and how fast he runs and how many goals he gets to score will be all his.

Still, once they’re finally inside the dimly-lit banquet hall, with fewer reporters and more athletes, Neil lets out a breath of relief. Event workers direct them to their table where their other teammates are seated.

Neil’s met a few of them before, and has played against a few of them too. Laila Dermott was the goalie for the Trojans when Neil’s team went up against them in his first and second year. Matt Boyd, who greets Neil with an eager handshake, played with Kevin for the Foxes, but he graduated before Neil could ever get a chance to play in the championships against him.

Small talk ensues, most of the team happy to be reunited after the off-season, eager to get back to their stadium next month and begin practices.

But he’s been directed to talk only to Kevin in public for the time being, so unless he’s spoken to, he doesn’t open his mouth.

There’s a loud commotion near the entrance way, a flood of reporters flocking the doors, lights going off and names being called. Another team has arrived.

Beside him, Kevin goes tense.

Then his hand is on Neil’s arm, and he’s beckoning him upwards. “Come on.”

Their publicists remind them the entire walk over of what they should and shouldn’t say; Kevin has to flaunt his new partner, and if Kevin and Neil are to be the duo that dominates the country, they’ll have to find a way to best the current duo that holds top status.

Riko Moriyama and Andrew Minyard, of the New York Nighthawks.

They stand next to each other like they’d rather be anywhere else in the world, faces stony and cold, eyes sharp and on anywhere but each other. They allow their pictures to be taken, but their patience doesn’t last, and Riko raises a finger to the nearest photographer in an immediate order for them to disperse.

The season hasn’t even started yet, but the pair’s presence has fear and rivalry hot in the air, soaking into the skin of every team present. The two stand there in their matching black and metallic suits and strike the atmosphere like a bolt of lightning.

They’ve been a fascination of Neil’s since he started university. He knows all about the cracking partnership of what was once Riko and Kevin, and the intense rivalry between schools that soon followed.

But it was Andrew who was the focal point of Neil’s fascination.

Andrew signed with Riko’s team immediately after graduating from Palmetto State, and caused the whole world to disrupt into a maddening dark chaos.

Because he was supposed to sign with Kevin’s.

Spurned by two former teammates and partners, Kevin leads the way towards them, looking determined to wave his new partner in their faces. As they get closer, Neil becomes aware of the fact that he’s Kevin’s choice now, but he was never his first.

“Riko. Andrew,” Kevin says cooly, and it feels like the entire room goes quiet. “Welcome.”

Neil keeps a step behind Kevin, not using him to hide but letting him be the focus of whatever is to come.

Riko Moriyama is not what the TV makes him look out to be. Neil has spent a portion of his college career watching Riko’s every move, studying all his games religiously, taking notes and copying moves and techniques to use in his own game.

During a game or facing off against a reporter, Riko is venomous, dangerous.

Standing in front of Kevin, he looks a foot shorter. If he wants to meet Kevin’s eyes then he has no choice but to tilt his head up, a fact that only increases the hatred radiating off of him.

His voice and his presence have him standing seven feet tall, though. “Kevin, Kevin, Kevin,” he says easily, his smile glinting in the dark of the room.

And then there’s Andrew.

Neil wasn’t aware that Andrew was staring at him, and accidentally locks eyes with him when he looks over. It feels like a stab, and it takes everything in Neil to not jerk back. Andrew’s energy is just that; a knife held out, ready to slice.

“I wanted to formally introduce you to our new starting striker, Neil Josten,” Kevin says, and turns slightly to put a hand on Neil’s arm, beckoning him forward. It’s the last move Neil wants to make, feeling more like being shoved into a shark tank with an open wound than anything else.

“Oh, yes,” Riko says, nodding. “The one from Arizona. His team’s performance last year was quite miserable, so I understand why you had to beg for him. Good thing you’re used to begging, right, Kevin?”

Riko doesn’t shake Neil’s hand, and instead makes direct eye contact with him, as if that’s enough.

“You best get acquainted with Andrew. He’ll be blocking all your shots this season.”

Standing there in his silver and black suit, hair sleek and eyes sharp, Andrew says his first words of the night, and directs them all at Kevin. “Another pet, Kevin? What if this one tells you no, too? Where will you be then?”

“Andrew,” Kevin says, almost warningly.

It all goes above Neil’s head, words clearly holding message from a past that he wasn’t part of. It’s not part of his story, any of it, so he focuses on the story he has to tell now; being Kevin’s partner, starting striker for the San Francisco Seakings.

“I’m Neil,” he says brightly, or as bright as he can in the face of two devilish beings. “I played against you my junior year at Arizona.”

He thinks he hears Kevin’s breath hitch when he extends his hand out for Andrew. The atmosphere of the entire room slows and swirls with danger, but it’s too late; Neil’s hand is already out, presenting itself clear to Andrew.

Nothing changes in Andrew’s bored expression, but his eyes drop to the offered hand.

Then he takes it, gripping it tight in a firm shake.

“Odd. I don’t remember you at all.”

Immediately, there’s a flash of a camera near them, but neither pull away. Neil lets his hand be held for another moment, and when it becomes evident that Andrew won’t be the first to let go, he forces his hand to slide out and away.

“I can’t wait to get acquainted,” Neil says, going for simple and light-hearted, but it comes out more heated, more twisted, more teasing.

Andrew effortlessly slips his hands into his pockets and doesn’t take his eyes off Neil. “The pleasure will surely be yours. Or maybe not. Riko? Let’s go.”

Kevin grabs Neil’s arm tight and doesn’t give him a chance to try and respond, hauling him away from the duo and taking him back to their table. “That was a mistake.”

Neil is too busy looking at his hand to look at Kevin. It feels like it’s still being squeezed, tingling along his palm. “That was your idea,” he says pointedly.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” Kevin says, gripping Neil’s arm harder. “Do you have any idea what you just started?”

Confusion weighs heavier on him than the impending fear of danger, so he frowns and asks, “What?”

Kevin groans, finally releasing Neil like he can’t stand to touch him anymore. Then, away from the table still and away from the whole world dying to catch just a few of their words, he leans in and hisses near Neil’s ear, “Andrew wouldn't have bothered to shake your hand unless he found you interesting.”

And at first Neil doesn’t understand.

But then, he does.

And he can’t help but feel like he just shook the hand of death itself.

-

After listening to a few speeches, hearing his own name come up a couple of times, posing for various pictures with various teammates and being asked the same round of questions over and over, he desperately needs to breathe.

Breathe in smoke that is, the scent reminding him so much of his mother, so he pays a server twenty bucks to tell him where the most discreet place to take a smoke break is. Kevin sends him a look when he pushes away from the table, but he ignores it, buttoning up his suit jacket as he stands, then takes off to follow the server.

He’s guided through a hectic kitchen, led down a hall and then another hall before being led out a large metal door. The loading docks, he guesses, judging by the packing boxes and the garage doors.

Neil says thank you, then quickly lights up a cigarette as soon as he’s left alone. One deep inhale to get it going, and the heavy weight of expectation seeps out of him, replaced by a temporary ease. He knows he’s being stupid, and that this is just how it is and that he needs to get used to it, but he just didn’t expect it all to be - like this.

Maybe when practice starts it’ll get easier, it’ll feel real, like he really is here to play a game and not pose for a picture with a practiced smile.

“Does Kevin know you smoke?”

In the empty loading dock, the sound of another voice echoes, rebounding off every wall, but even when the sound fades Neil’s heart is still racing. He immediately looks around, eyes narrowed and posture careful.

Across the way, shadowed by a stack of crates, stands Andrew Minyard. His regal suit and equally regal hairstyle contrast too sharply with the mess of crates and boxes and graffiti, but leaning against the wall with one leg propped, Andrew looks casual, relaxed.

Pretending his heart didn’t nearly just detonate from shock, Neil takes another inhale of smoke before crossing over to Andrew. He notes the cigarette in Andrew’s own hand, nearly burned down to a stub, and arches a brow. “I don’t, but does Riko know that you do?”

“Doesn’t matter. Riko doesn’t own me,” Andrew says simply, then crushes the end of his cigarette against the wall and tosses it.

Neil pauses, considering that, then says scornfully, “Kevin doesn’t own me.”

Andrew answers that with a bored look.

“He doesn’t,” Neil insists, not sure why that look riles up his every nerve. He takes another breath in and holds the smoke in his lungs for too long of a second, then slowly lets it out, but it does nothing to calm him now.

“When somebody is the reason for your very existence, they own you. Kevin got you your contract, yes? Well then he owns you.”

Anger flares in Neil’s chest, along with something he can’t place, something sharp and jarring. The truth, maybe.

Neil keeps it reined in, making his face blank as he can make it. He’s barely aware that he’s speaking, that annoying flaring feeling still bright in his chest, masking the increasing rate of his pulse. “Is that why you wouldn’t sign with him then? You didn’t want to be owned?”

Andrew considers that, it seems, by the way he tilts his head slightly to the side, but that illusion of confusion is snapped when he leans forward and grabs Neil’s cigarette from his fingers, bringing it up to his own mouth.

“A heavy question to be asking,” Andrew says slowly. “For a man who doesn’t know me.”

“I don’t have to know you to know your statistics,” Neil says, voice heavier now with annoyance over his stolen cigarette. Oddly enough, his lungs don’t ache without it, not if he can watch the ring Andrew’s lips make around the filter. “You’re not just the top-ranked goalie in the NEL.”

It only takes a few seconds for his mind to cough up the info he needs, the small facts and the large facts about Andrew Minyard, jersey number three, the New York Nighthawk’s starting goalie. Facts ranging from his speed to his aim to how many shots he blocked in total all of last season.

When he’s done listing the facts, the statistics, he expects something in Andrew’s face to change, expects to see some form of pride or triumph, but Andrew doesn’t even blink.

He blows out a cloud of smoke right into Neil’s face and says, “You’re straddling the border between obsessive and creepy. I should be calling security.”

“They’re facts. Everyone knows them.”

“Not like that.”

“I have to know,” Neil says defensively. “If I ever want to score on you.”

“Knowing all that won’t increase your level of talent,” Andrew scoffs, finally showing a sliver of emotion - judgement.

“I just don’t get it,” Neil says, backtracking to turn the subject to its origin point. “You and Kevin were a great pair. You’d do even better if you were on the same team again. Why’d you sign with his enemy?”

Andrew says, too easily, “Kevin’s enemy is not my enemy. I am my own enemy. Signing with the Nighthawks made that less so.”

Neil barely has a second to frown, to think about that, before Andrew is pushing away from the wall and taking a step closer into Neil’s space.

It’s strange, he thinks, in the brief few seconds he has before Andrew opens his mouth again, that he’s spent all night feeling suffocated but now, with a stranger breathing smoke in his face, standing toe to toe with him, all he feels is air.

“My answers come with a pricetag. You can compensate me with one of your own; why did you sign with the Seakings?”

The way he says it almost sounds like he’s implying that Neil had a decision, that Neil had other options to consider.

It takes a few seconds, but then it hits Neil.

Andrew isn’t implying that at all, he’s implying the opposite.

Rubbing dirt in the wound, running a highlighter across every word, shining a spotlight right on Neil’s still-aching heart.

He didn’t have any options.

“They were the only team to offer me a contract,” Neil admits, low and quiet, and even though that rage is back in his chest, he doesn’t push Andrew away.

“Then perhaps you should quit harping on what contracts I did or didn’t sign and focus on yourself,” Andrew says, and it’s venomous but it’s bright. “Like the real reason Kevin signed you. I bet you still think it’s because you’re his chance at finally besting Riko, right?”

Neil stares at a spot over Andrew’s shoulder, trying desperately to build his wall back up brick by brick, but every breath and word from Andrew has cement crumbling like dust in Neil’s hands.

“That’s one of the reasons, yes,” Neil says flatly, avoiding Andrew’s eyes.

Andrew leans in closer until his mouth is near Neil’s ear, and makes a buzzing noise, deep and grating, like Neil got the answer wrong. This close, a noise like that can’t echo off the walls, but Neil still hears it being repeated in every nerve in his body.

“No. Kevin will never have faith, in anything or anybody, a lesson you need to learn quickly. He will give up on you if you cannot give him what benefits him,” Andrew says quickly, that venom in his tone stinging so much Neil thinks it’s paralyzing him. “You know what you are? His scapegoat. When your team inevitably loses, he can place the blame on you, and no one will question him.”

Neil is still, from head to toe, but some bright hot instinct kicks in a second later, giving him the strength to snap his neck down and face forward, glaring down the scant few inches between him and Andrew.

“You’re going to eat those words,” Neil promises, and without looking he reaches between them for his stolen cigarette.

Andrew jerks his hand away, holding it out of Neil’s reach.

“I’m not hungry,” Andrew says, then flicks the cigarette behind him and turns away to walk back inside.

Then Neil is alone, with nothing and nobody saying his name, with nothing but his thoughts and the truth of him and the weight of his reality, and a sudden burning promise fueling its way through him.

He suddenly doesn’t need to breathe. He just needs to prove Andrew wrong.

- Chapter 2

If that one brief interaction out by the loading docks supplied enough rage-induced encouragement to last a decade, the question that Neil answers on his way out of the banquet supplies enough encouragement to last a lifetime.

When he’s asked it, he doesn’t think of the repercussions, doesn’t think about the fact that every word said in public is a play in a game.

It’s the truth, at least, and maybe that’s why he says it.

Two security guards guide Neil and Kevin to their town car, the night having run its course on Neil and the effects of alcohol having run its course on Kevin. But the guards’ presence doesn’t stop the remaining reporters from flocking to their car, doesn’t stop the flash of cameras.

Doesn’t stop the question; “Neil, Neil! Now that you’ve met the opposing teams, how do you feel about your chances? Do you still think you can help Kevin bring your team to the playoffs?”

Neil stops, turns, and fixes on a smile that he doesn’t have to fake. He can see Kevin shaking his head from the corner of his eye, their publicists practically begging him to not answer this question.

He has to. He made a promise in his head to Andrew.

“Actually, if anything, I feel even more encouraged,” Neil says warmly, as if his words are pleasant opposed to cruel. “I know that with Kevin’s guidance, together we’re going to change how the playoffs are played. His enemies are now my enemies.”

He hopes that somehow, someway, Andrew watches this, and knows Neil’s words are for him.

“Are you referencing Riko Moriyama and his team?”

His smile deepens. “Andrew Minyard,” Neil says, and likes the way his tongue feels after saying his name. “He’s not as impenetrable as he thinks he is, and I’m going to take him down goal by goal. I’m going to score on him.”

Instead of prompting Neil for more, the reporter directs the microphone to Kevin, who stands there shell-shocked, as if Neil just reached into his chest and punched his heart. “Comments?”

Kevin glares at Neil, then faces the camera. “With enough coaching and practice, I fully believe in Neil’s future success,” he says dully, before motioning towards his publicist to clear out the reporters.

All in all, the question took less than a minute to answer.

Neil smiles to himself on the drive home, not knowing that one question will fuel the rest of his life.

-

It was an inevitable feud.

Long in the making, already in the process before Neil Josten was ever a Seaking. This feud was perhaps the main reason Kevin vouched for his recruitment. There hasn’t been a hype like this over a season since Kevin and Riko signed to the pros.

Because this feud started off between the Ravens and the Foxes, technically.

The Foxes lost the championships in Kevin and Andrew’s final year. That loss against the Ravens was only intensified when Andrew signed with Riko, and Kevin was forced to start his professional career on his own.

In Neil’s opinion, Kevin’s the best, but he was too used to having support. His first year as a Seaking, they made it to playoffs and were eliminated after the first round. His second year, they hadn’t earned enough points to qualify.

Losing three years in a row to someone he used to win with only had Kevin playing harder.

But now, Neil isn’t sure what Kevin saw in him that made him think partner.

Kevin’s Comeback Key, most articles had nicknamed Neil. It put a new spark in an old feud. Kevin had ammunition now - or, as most of the Exy world saw it, Kevin had no excuse not to win now.

With a new season, a new striker, a new attitude to Kevin’s playing style and a determination that nothing could cut through, it was an inevitable feud.

It was never meant to be like this, however, between the rookie and the goalie. Nobody ever thought it’d be Neil vs. Andrew, but now that it is, it’s everywhere.

Neil knows how press works, he’s seen his own interviews show up online as soon as they’re filmed, he knows better. Yet he still feels a bit stunned at how quick this - whatever this is - blows up. Everything and everyone, between the ESPN channel to the smallest online magazine, has something to say about it.

The picture of their handshake dominates every single article, with screaming headlines printed over top, their names flashing and bright. Minyard vs Josten, 03 vs 10, Rookie to Score On Goalie?

One news site tracks Andrew and Neil’s college career, and pulls up the footage of Neil’s deathmatch against the Foxes. In the video, Neil tries to run at the goal and score, only to have Andrew catch his ball and rebound it off Neil’s helmet.

It’s their only in-game interaction to date, but it’s more than enough to tip the scales in Andrew’s favour. Neil’s rookie image is painted even darker.

Statistics are compared, histories are recovered, stories are made up. The more gossip-run sites say Kevin only recruited Neil to replace the hole that Andrew left in his shield. Some sites say that Andrew’s going to use Neil’s inexperience to flaunt his own talent back in Kevin’s face.

It’s a mess, and Neil helped make it.

Unlike before though, there are people who want to support him. Neil almost doesn’t believe it when old teammates from Arizona are recorded vouching his name, saying their praises, citing his grim determination as an advantage over Andrew Minyard.

In August, the Seakings start preseason practice, often hosting open practices for fans and reporters to sit in and watch. Kevin pushes Neil to play harder, even if it is against his own team, reminding him that the world is watching.

The world is watching, and once they witness that grim determination in action, the scales tip slightly under Neil’s weight. Reporters begin to comment positively on his accuracy. Fans start to show up at their practices with signs.

Neil can’t remember the last time a fan held up a sign with his name on it that wasn’t followed by massive black X’s.

It’s inspiring, and has Neil fighting more aggressively during practice to prove them all right, that he deserves their faith.

It’s inspiring until the day it isn’t, when the feud hits its next point, and then even Neil loses faith in himself.

The whole team is gathered in their lounge after practice, sweaty and exhausted, but whatever’s about to play on the TV is apparently more important than showering. Coach Mullens stands by the television with his arms folded, face grim, remote control clutched tightly in one hand.

When he’s sure he has his team’s attention, he faces the TV and clicks play on the remote.

All the way over in New York, the Nighthawks are having their own open practice. A sportscaster from ESPN talks at the camera, commenting on the team’s impressive technique as a scrimmage plays out.

Any reporter who knows Andrew Minyard knows the risks of putting a microphone in his face, yet that doesn’t stop this reporter from approaching him as he walks off the court, helmet in his hands and eyes uncaring as he attempts to walk past them.

“Andrew, what do you have to say about the current buzz surrounding Neil Josten of the San Francisco Seakings? He says he’s going to score on you, what do you think his chances are?”

Andrew stops abruptly and turns to face the camera, fixing it with a look that could shatter glass.

“To say he has a chance would give him false hope. There is no chance and there is no hope,” Andrew says, cooly. “If Neil ‘Pipe Dream’ Josten wants to challenge me in public, then he better be ready to be destroyed in public.”

Not sparing another breath or word, Andrew turns from the camera and walks away, leaving the reporter stunned in their spot.

There’s something satisfying about hearing Andrew say his name, but Neil can hardly focus on that when his chest suddenly feels ten times heavier.

Coach is talking, the team is murmuring, Kevin is sending an angry, frantic glance in Neil’s direction.

Neil stares at the TV screen, still seeing Andrew on it. His heart turns in panicked circles, spinning faster every time he replays Andrew’s sharp words.

His heart stops spinning, and decides to land on a feeling Neil hasn’t felt in awhile, a feeling that Andrew’s rivalry ignites; the silent swell of hope.

-

“You shook his hand,” is Kevin’s explanation for ripping Neil from his apartment at 10:00PM and dragging him to the stadium. “You started this, now you are going to find a way to end it.”

It’s incredibly jarring to be two souls in a stadium that seats thousands. Loud and echoey and all-consuming. Neil almost prefers it. He almost doesn’t quite mind the sleep deprivation that will follow. He almost thinks he can tolerate Kevin’s harsh words and harsher critique.

“Andrew doesn’t do challenges; he crushes them. By putting yourself in his path you’ve single-handedly obliterated our chances of facing them in the playoffs.”

Neil glares up at Kevin through the faceguard of his helmet. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“You don’t know Andrew, he works on spite or not at all. He’ll personally see to it that you never make it within ten feet of his goal. Lucky for him, it should be rather easy.”

It aggravates Neil, but that was likely Kevin’s aim, to get Neil to push himself the next step forward. His shots are forced to be faster, more aggressive, until Neil’s every cell is cursing the very second that Kevin Day was born.

Their private practices continue until Neil feels reformed, shaped into something - better.

That feeling of such elevation might have gotten to his head, because at their next open practice with the team, a reporter asks Neil, “Are you excited for the season to start?”

And Neil easily responds with, “More excited than I’ve ever been. Kevin’s an incredible captain, and he’s shaping us all into a weapon. The Nighthawks should be scared, and Riko should be sorry.”

“Why’s that?”

“That he ever doubted Kevin in the first place,” Neil says, frowning a bit, as if the answer was obvious. “But he can apologize on our court come November.”

To the viewers and the multiple news outlets that try to analyze Neil’s statement, it sounds like good-natured team rivalry. It sounds like the role he’s meant to play - the rookie to Kevin’s captaincy, partners, together, a duo.

That’s not how it sounds to the Nighthawks.

Not at all, Neil realizes, the next day during a closed practice, when Riko Moriyama steps onto their court all the way from New York City.

The entire team falls silent.

Riko’s dressed in a blue so dark it could be black. His eyes scan the lines of their well-worn court as if the floor is fouling his shoes. The Seakings stand around in their gear, scrimmage paused, looking from one to the other with a million silenced questions. Their coaches stand in the inner court, equally quiet, not making any movements to signal a stop to Riko’s presence.

Laila’s the first to speak up, storming out of her goal as she rips her helmet off. “What the hell are you doing here? How’d you even get in?”

Riko doesn’t look at her, his glare trained on both Kevin and Neil.

“Your court is a shame to the very sport you play,” Riko says, crossing his arms over his chest. “My family invented this sport. It is not difficult for me to gain access to any and all stadiums.”

Despite their hostile history, and despite the anger rippling across his face, Kevin remains wordless.

“This is a private practice,” Neil finally says, after sending a disappointed look Kevin’s way. “You’re in violation of the rules.”

“My family invented this sport,” Riko repeats, more viciously, turning all his attention on Neil. “You are a mockery to it. What makes you think a rookie like you has the right to speak against my team? Your name does not belong anywhere near mine.”

“It wasn’t you I was challenging,” Neil says, as calm as he can make it. It’s not that Riko unnerves him, it’s that Riko irritates him, and it irritates Neil even more that Riko has the audacity to say such things while standing on the Seakings’ logo.

“I didn’t come alone,” Riko says, and doesn’t turn around when the court door suddenly slams open. “You think you can score on Andrew? Prove it.”

The Seakings remain dead quiet as somebody else steps onto the court, footsteps like gunshots off the floor. Andrew comes up towards them wearing his own team’s gear, clashing harshly with the aqua of the Seakings.

Andrew stops right behind Riko and swings his racquet up to rest against his shoulder, looking like he’s contemplating taking a nap in the next five seconds.

“I’m not doing this,” Neil says firmly, taking a step back.

That only strengthens Riko’s grave smile. “Then we can give ESPN a ring and have a reporter here in minutes. I’m sure they’d love to hear you admit defeat.”

“You can’t -”

“This is what you get when you run your mouth off with foul and false accusations. Do not make promises if you have no way to make them true. You will practice against Andrew until you finally see how dim your chances are.”

Riko sends a look Kevin’s way, something dark and controlling in his eyes, and Neil’s stomach sinks, knowing fully well how Kevin will respond to that look.

With a small sigh, Kevin steps up to Neil and grabs his racquet, halting it. “Don’t use all your energy at once,” he says, a red-hot warning low in his voice. “Pace yourself.” Then he gives the racquet’s net a tug and walks away, following Riko and the rest of the Seakings off the court.

Then it’s just Neil and Andrew, and suddenly Neil’s knees feel weak.

Ignoring that, because nothing about Andrew unnerves Neil either, he steadies his face and turns a look on his opposer, souring his expression as best he can. Despite that sourness, he manages a smirk. “I thought Riko didn’t own you.”

Andrew says nothing but sticks his racquet out to roll a ball towards himself. Without breaking eye contact, he flicks it up and sends it flying right at Neil’s helmet. It bounces off with a sharp smack, then rolls away.

Neil doesn’t back down from that challenge.

He follows Kevin’s advice and paces himself, firing perfunctory shot after shot, carefully thought out and planned. Andrew responds to that by standing completely still and tilting his racquet whichever way he knows Neil is going to swing.

Irritation itches under Neil’s skin. He’s giving nearly every percent he has and Andrew’s barely turned his switch on, but Neil doesn’t fall for it, doesn’t give his one-hundred just yet. He waits for Andrew to break patience first.

Tens of minutes later, or at least that’s how it feels, Andrew finally stops moving to stare at Neil blankly. He leans down to pick up a ball, tosses it slightly, then smacks it with all his might, firing it at Neil at a speed that could hurt him.

Slow doesn’t exist after that. Fast, faster, fastest, Neil dodges every shot and shoots them back even quicker. He runs and leaps and tries from a different angle every single time, but somehow Andrew just knows where they’re going to land. Neil might as well be shooting at a brick wall.

His blood hasn’t felt like this before, never been so hot. It burns with determination, infuriation, some primal sort of need flowing through him to shoot and score and to wipe that stupid look off Andrew’s stupid face.

After trying every trick he knows, he thinks back to night practice, and shifts his body into a move he’s seen Kevin perform.

Andrew is expecting that, too, and flicks the ball away with a short snap of his wrist.

Neil stands a few feet back from the goal, panting and doubled over, watching his failure of a ball roll shamefully away.

“Remember,” Andrew calls out, the mocking in his voice sounding almost like a song. “All the night practice with Kevin won’t change a thing, he will never keep his faith in you. A few more shots and he’ll be done with you for good.”

“No,” Neil grits out, and snaps into action, investing his last percent into charging the goal with every ounce of passion and hatred he has. Except when he swings his racquet back to fire a shot, all his muscles twist to a stop. It forces his grip slack, has him skidding to a halt.

Without momentum, the ball slides free of the net and hits the ground with a low thud.

The only body part that doesn’t burn are his eyes, so he watches the ball roll away, physically unable to reach out for it.

A banging on the court wall has Neil fumbling to find enough energy to look over. Kevin is making a cutting gesture at his neck, while Riko stands next to him, arms folded and face expressionless. The lack of smug satisfaction across Riko’s face is somehow worse than any at all.

Neil gasps out in defeat and doubles over, and doesn’t dare look up at Andrew, not even when there’s a tap against his helmet, the large net of Andrew’s racquet in his face.

“At least you tried,” Andrew says, and taps Neil’s helmet again.

“I never said I’m giving up,” Neil says back, just barely, before finally looking up at him.

The rest of the stadium vanishes, disintegrating quickly as Andrew leans forward, too close, as close as he was the night they met in the docks. The sound of his breath and his voice right by Neil’s ear shouldn’t sound so familiar, but it is.

Their helmets are all that separates them physically, but nothing can stop Andrew’s words from touching him. “Then until we meet again,” Andrew says, and it’s too much of a whisper to be a threat.

Andrew strolls off the court looking as if he hadn’t moved so much as a muscle while playing against Neil. Without another word to the Seakings, he and Riko disappear.

Footsteps break up the world of silence. Kevin rushes onto the court where Neil is now kneeling, his every body part on fire. “Neil.”

For whatever reason, there’s a defiant part of Neil that doesn’t want to look up, to meet the eyes of somebody who isn’t Andrew. Staring at Andrew had forced Neil to look as honest as he’s looked in months - he means it when he looks at Andrew with intent. Looking at anybody else will force a mask back on, and he’s not sure if he can fake it right now.

Kevin tugs at him when he remains quiet, gripping him roughly until he’s steady on his feet.

“He’s good,” Neil says distantly, staring at the court doors.

“You can’t beat him alone,” Kevin says somberly, and then, after a pause, “We have to do it together.”

It’s far from the harsh criticism Neil’s accustomed to. It draws his eyes to Kevin’s retreating figure as he walks away, trying to piece it all together.

He stays alone on the court for a few more minutes.

Showing Neil just how unattainable something is won’t make him want it any less. There’s fire in his muscles, a stinging suggestion that perhaps he won’t ever score on Andrew, but if anything, it only makes him want it more.

Riko’s the one who failed tonight.

Neil’s alone on the court, but he feels the ghost of Andrew’s closeness, and now more than ever, he can’t quite quell the hope of it.

-

Even with his arms stinging and burning, he couldn’t quite make himself go home.

So now he stands alone in the Seakings stadium, out on the court, envisioning where the ball would go if he stood here, or there, if he lifted the racquet like this and not that. The only conclusion he can come to though, is that no matter how he throws the ball, Andrew will be there to block it.

Neil wants to find it strange that he only feels determined in face of such an impossible challenge, but he doesn’t. What he does find strange is what he can’t explain; how ontop of determination, he feels put-off, disoriented, like there’s an answer in Andrew that is right there but Neil just can’t see it.

He can feel it though, like pinpricks and frustration and -

Shock.

Because when Neil turns around after staring at the goal for an endless minute, Andrew Minyard himself is standing in the open doorway to the court, leaning against the plexiglass frame with his arms crossed and his expression cool.

Neil suddenly lets out his breath and begins to smile, and the urge to figure things out disappears as he lets curiosity take over. He was tired before, tired and sore, but for some reason, with Andrew right there, he no longer feels like sleeping.

“Hey,” Neil says, taking off his helmet as he steps closer. He looks over Andrew’s head for something or somebody in the distance, but Andrew is alone. “Where’s Riko? Did he finally loosen your leash?”

Andrew’s expression hardens, then fades into blankness. “One would think that with all the time you spend talking about Riko that he owns you, as well.”

“So he does own you?”

Andrew ignores that and steps further into the court, walking a circle around Neil. “Your determination to play could be admirable if it weren’t so pathetic,” he says, eyes drifting to the racquet still in Neil’s hands. “What’s keeping you here?”

“Uh, well . . .” Neil looks at his racquet and realizes then how much it hurts to hold it. “I want to?”

“You want to, or you feel you’re expected to?”

Neil frowns and plucks at a string in the net. “There’s not much of a difference if I like doing it though, right?”

Andrew scoffs and makes another lap around Neil, never making eye contact as he walks. “Let’s play a new game,” he says while nodding. “It’s called ‘let’s not talk about Exy for five minutes’.”

Neil frowns again, but it’s quickly won over by a smirk. “You want me to stop talking about Exy? When we’re currently standing on an Exy court, in an Exy stadium, where I am dressed in my Exy gear, while holding my Exy racquet?”

Andrew pauses, face falling even more blank. “Can you do it or not?”

“Do I win anything if I do?”

Andrew finally looks at Neil then, his eyes narrowed as he thinks, then says, “To be determined.”

For some reason, Neil laughs.

And even though he hasn’t gone more than a minute without thinking about Exy over the past five years, Neil has never been one to back down from an impossible challenge . . .

“Okay, you’re on. Starting now.”

Except Neil hasn’t ever been faced with a challenge quite like this.

Andrew stares at Neil for the first thirty seconds, as Neil’s mouth forms different shapes and half-muttered words escape his lips only to be bit back down - because everything and anything he has to say has to be about Exy, the game, his team, his sponsors, his statistics, press pieces for the media and pre-written answers to endless repetitive questions and -

And he hasn’t ever been asked to talk about anything else.

“I - uh -” Neil stammers, heat flooding his face. “What do you want to talk about?”

Andrew’s eyes look as if they’re about to roll back. “How did you manage to complete college with the vocabulary of a two year old? What do you want to talk about?”

There’s a force in Neil’s throat, like the hand of someone controlling a puppet, about to make him say what they want him to say. He grits his teeth in time to stop himself and then sighs, giving his shoulders a slight shrug.

He doesn’t know what he wants to say, but he wants to say something.

Because Andrew stands there calmly, willing to listen.

“. . . my running shoes are beginning to break down,” is what Neil ends up saying, face flaming crimson now that the words are out. “I’ve put off buying a new pair though. I guess I hate spending money.”

He watches with his heart racing as one of Andrew’s eyebrows slowly lifts; clearly bored with Neil, and his pathetic attempt at normal conversation.

“I’m trying, okay?” Neil asks rather desperately, trying hard not to flinch as that eyebrow raises higher. “I’m not very interesting.”

All at once, Andrew smirks, and it transforms his entire face. He takes a step closer until he’s right in front of Neil, a powerful presence when compared to Neil’s nervous wreck of a body. He eyes the racquet that Neil’s still holding and threads his fingers through the net, giving it a quick tug.

“Your vocabulary is in need of a refresher, Neil,” Andrew says lowly, eyes flicking up to meet his. “I don’t think you understand what ‘interesting’ means. You win this round. ‘A’ for effort, and all that.”

He tugs on the racquet again before turning around to leave, and even when he’s gone, Neil doesn’t understand.

But he wants to.

[footballghana]

Mohamed Aboutrika – African Maestros

Maestros are typically defined as midfielders who are able to control games with their creativity, similarly to how a conductor directs a musical performance. Maestros can flip games on their head with their trickery and technical ability. They are players with an uncanny ability to move the ball, whether it be by slaloming through defences or picking out passes that turned heads.

Maestros are a bit of a dying breed in football today, especially with the phasing out of the traditional number 10 role, but they made many of us fall in love with football. The likes of Ronaldinho and Zidane come to mind when considering world football’s greatest maestros, but what about the Africans?

In this series we will reminisce on Africa’s greatest maestros with words and video – and who better to start with than Al Ahly and Egyptian virtuoso Mohamed Aboutrika?

Watching Aboutrika, over the course of many games or on a highlight tape on YouTube, you realize that he checks off every box in what you want from an attacking midfielder. Dribbling, passing, vision, accuracy, creativity, composure…you name it. And on top of all of that, he had an absurd scoring ability for a midfielder – from free kicks to thunderous long-range strikes.

Whenever Al Ahly or Egypt needed something to happen, they looked to Aboutrika to open the game up. Just like how you knew Arjen Robben would always cut in from the right wing onto his left, viewers of Ahly and Egypt always knew that the ball would have to find Aboutrika in order for magic to happen.

On so many occasions he would drop back to receive the ball 30-40 yards from goal, and within a matter of a few seconds his teammate would be through on goal.

You might guess he was someone who sat back and pinged balls towards goal from deep like Xabi Alonso or David Luiz, but this was not the case. While that type of pass was indeed in his arsenal, Mohamed Aboutrika played incredibly high risk chipped balls into the box from around 15 yards – but he pulled it off with ease.

Any coach would berate a player who, to the untrained eye, simply played a ball in the air into the congested box with an extremely low chance of success, but Aboutrika made it look so simple.

These balls would be perfectly weighted, looping over the defense and falling to the feet of the attacker running into the tiniest amount of space that the pass found.

What stood out to me the most from watching Aboutrika was how he was so effective at changing his direction to beat defenders and create space to make his next move.

Aboutrika wasn’t known as a speed demon, but he was able to make up for it many times over with his balance and dribbling ability.

On so many occasions he is able to execute the perfect flick to eliminate a defender and play a killer pass.

He slowed the game down with his elegance, it’s like he was a hybrid of Sergio Busquets and Lionel Messi.

Whether it be inch-perfect passes or rifled longshots, Aboutrika was able to do it all, and he made it look so, so good.

Aboutrika was so much more than a silky midfielder who played in an aesthetically pleasing way: he was a leader and winner on the greatest stage.

He displayed his class in the biggest moments. And like all great maestros do, he made those around him play better.

His greatness can be seen in his transformation of Ahly. The Red Devils, who had not won the league since 2000, beat out Zamalek to Aboutrika’s signature in 2004 – after he propelled Tersana to the first division.

In his first full season with Ahly, they went undefeated in the league, winning by a margin of 31 points.

The same season, Aboutrika led them to the African Champions League final, where they defeated last year’s finalists Etoile du Sahel 3-0.

A few months after tasting African triumph with Ahly, he was tasked with helping Egypt lift the 2006 African Cup of Nations hosted on home soil. Aboutrika’s miraculous efforts with the national team in the qualification rounds for the 2006 World Cup were not enough to lead them all the way to Germany, but he established a place in the national squad as the #10, the central playmaker, the maestro if you will.

He scored twice as Egypt breezed past their group stage. The Pharaohs didn’t face any real challenge until the semi-finals, when they were tied 1-1 with Senegal at a full capacity Cairo International Stadium.

A curling effort from outside the box was denied by the crossbar a few minutes before Senegal equalized after 52 minutes. The match was a deadlock for the next 28 minutes.

80th minute. Egypt have a throw in from a non-dangerous position in the opposition half. Aboutrika, who was not known for being a speedster, bursts past his marker into space on the left wing where his Ahly teammate Mohamed Abdelwahab threw the ball down the line into Aboutrika’s path.

He let the ball bounce three times to reach the baseline before striking across the ball with his weaker foot – perfectly meeting the jumping head of Amr Zaki. Just like that, Egypt had won and moved onto the finals where they faced Didier Drogba and Ivory Coast.

The match was scoreless through regulation and extra time. Egypt were matched against a Les Elephants side who converted 12 out of 12 spot kicks against Cameroon six days earlier.

In a shootout riddled with misses, Aboutrika was the fifth to shoot for his side – the decisive penalty. Score and you get to lift the trophy.

If you had any doubt that he scored I haven’t done a good enough job yet of explaining Aboutrika’s clutch nature.

After returning to Al Ahly to finish the club season, Aboutrika continued his streak of excellence.

He was the top scorer in the Egyptian League with 18 goals as Ahly won the league undefeated for a second straight season. He also won the Egyptian Cup and Super Cup (where he scored a 92nd minute winner).

After that he continued his goal scoring in the Champions League as he finished as the top scorer with eight goals, leading the Red Devils to a second consecutive African title.

To conclude the year, he led his club side to Japan to play in the FIFA Club World Cup. The Club World Cup has always been a stumbling block for African sides, but Aboutrika’s inspiring performances for Ahly in 2006 on the global stage have and will serve as a source of inspiration for African clubs of the future.

He scored a free kick goal Ahly beat Auckland City 2-0 in the quarter finals. He hit the post as his side devastatingly fell to Copa Libertadores champions Internacional 2-1, but Aboutrika led Ahly to a podium finish with an exceptional performance against Club America, scoring a brace: another freekick and finishing off an excellent team play that he started.

To review his 2006 year. He won the AFCON and CAF Super Cup in February, won the Golden Boot and Championship in the Egyptian Premier League in June, won the Egypt Cup and Super Cup in July, before winning the CAFCL Golden Boot and Trophy in November and finishing third at the Club World Cup in December.

His year was rewarded with a nomination for the African Footballer of the Year by CAF and the BBC. Egyptians became accustomed to these types of performances by Aboutrika for the next few years.

Two years later for the 2008 AFCON, Aboutrika stepped up to the occasion again, scoring in the semi-finals and in the only goal of the match in the final to lift the trophy for a second straight time. Arguably more notably that tournament, he scored against Sudan in the group stages. The goal itself wasn’t what made the headlines, it was his celebration – removing his jersey to show a T-shirt reading “Sympathize with Gaza” in protest of Israel.

Aboutrika was the King of African football when he played. He proved it on the domestic and continental stages.

He had more iconic performances in the 2009 FIFA Confederations Cup, as well as coming so close to qualifying for the 2010 World Cup, but the Port Said Disaster and its impact on Egyptian football effectively put a hard stop in Aboutrika’s career.

When the rioting began Aboutrika escaped to his team’s locker room, where he found dying fans. A 14-year-old who was dying in Aboutrika’s arms uttered his final words: “I’m glad I got to meet you.”

The events caused Aboutrika to retire from football, but he returned later after reconsidering. The Port Said disaster saw the stoppage of domestic football in Egypt for two years, which severely hurt the national team.

It was miraculous that Ahly were able to win the Champions League just months after disaster, let alone win it again in 2013.

Before retiring for the final time in 2013 at the age of 35, Aboutrika had a brief stint at Baniyas in the United Arab Emirates, a loan deal he was reported to have agreed to only to help his Al Ahly financially.

For his debut, Egyptians in Dubai and general admirers of El Magico caused the attendance to rise to unprecedented levels. Seeing Aboutrika in action was a spectacle.

Many call Mohamed Aboutrika the greatest African to never play in Europe. The fact that he never left Egypt for the greener pastures of Europe is often held against him when evaluating his legacy, but I think it should be weighed in his credit.

Aboutrika’s loyalty, in addition to undoubtedly improving the quality of his club and national team with his play, should be valued in a world today where big money transfers trump club ties.

It’s widely regarded that Aboutrika was a key member of the Ahly and Egypt dynasties during his career – and these are arguably two of the greatest sides in the history of African football.

I would go as far as saying that it wouldn’t be a huge stretch to call him the greatest African to ever play.

I asked renowned Egyptian journalist Amr Nageeb Fahmy of Bein Sports what made Aboutrika so special, and I think his answer perfectly encapsulates Aboutrika’s magic.

“He was always there when it really mattered, a man who relishes big matches and created the magic when it was really needed.”

This was the first part of our series ‘African Maestros’, the next profile will come out next week.

Source: africanfootballhq.com 

source: https://footballghana.com/

[bountyofbeads]

FALSE PROPHET

Media-bashing robocalls, chloroquine Twitter trolls, briefing-room propaganda—how the president and his allies are trying to convince America he was right all along.

By MCKAY COPPINS | Published APRIL 15, 2020 | The Atlantic Magazine | Posted April 16, 2020 |

On February 28, Donald Trump stood before a crowd of supporters in South Carolina and told them to pay no attention to the growing warnings of a coronavirus outbreak in America. The press was “in hysteria mode,” the president said. The Democrats were playing politics. This new virus was nothing compared with the seasonal flu—and anyone who said otherwise was just trying to hurt him. “This is their new hoax,” Trump proclaimed, squinting out from behind a podium adorned with the presidential seal.

Six weeks later, the coronavirus has killed more than 25,000 Americans, the U.S. economy has been crippled—and Trump is recasting himself as a pandemic prophet. At Monday’s White House briefing, the president responded to questions about his handling of the crisis by dimming the lights and playing an Orwellian campaign-style video: “the media minimized the risk from the start,” the onscreen text read, “while the president took decisive action.”

This flagrant recasting of recent events wasn’t a fluke. For the past several months, I’ve been reporting on the “disinformation architecture” that Trump’s coalition of partisan media, propagandists, operatives, and trolls are relying on to reelect him. Their strategy has always been to drown out inconvenient facts with a noisy barrage of distortions—to “flood the zone with shit,” as Steve Bannon once put it. But in recent weeks, the president and his allies have been waging a dystopian campaign of revisionist history more brazen than anything they’ve attempted before.

If you’ve tuned in to one of the daily coronavirus-task-force briefings, you’ve likely seen Trump himself make the case. “I knew it was a pandemic long before it was called a pandemic,” the president boasted last month. “I knew everything,” he reiterated a couple of weeks later. Asked to assess his response to the virus, he responded emphatically, “I’d rate it at 10.”

[ Read: The real point of Trump’s coronavirus press conferences READ BELOW]

Cable-news outlets have struggled with how to responsibly handle these briefings, which intersperse valuable updates from public-health officials with the president’s free-wheeling insult-comedy and medical misinformation. But the briefings command huge ratings—viewership at times rivals that of The Bachelor, as Trump has gleefully noted—and coverage of them trickles down into local newscasts and social media.

This dynamic has effectively enabled the president to narrate America’s national trauma, while editing his own role in it. There are signs that his efforts are working: One Democratic strategist, who requested anonymity to describe private research, told me that when voters were shown 90 seconds of a recent Trump briefing, his performance in a general-election matchup against Joe Biden improved by more than two percentage points.

Meanwhile, Trump and the party he’s remade in his image are working overtime to undermine the journalists who are uncovering damaging details of his pandemic response. Late last month, as shelter-in-place orders went into effect across the country, people began to receive robocalls purporting to administer a “poll” focused on press coverage of the president. After giving their answers, respondents heard a sympathetic female voice express frustration with the media’s unfair treatment of Trump. The call was described to me by a 64-year-old woman in rural Texas who believed at first that she was talking to a real person.

When I asked Transaction Network Services, which tracks robocalls, to look into it, the company traced the call back to the National Republican Congressional Committee, and said it had been sent to 120,000 numbers over a three-day period. (Reached for comment, a spokesman for the NRCC confirmed it was responsible for the call but declined to play the audio for me. He said it was intended to identify prospective donors.)

Media-bashing is nothing new for the president, but in recent weeks it’s taken on a more frenzied quality. Trump now routinely derails his daily briefings by barking at White House reporters to rephrase their questions in more flattering ways. On Twitter, he has giddily celebrated recent declines in advertising revenue at disfavored outlets. And his campaign—apparently eager to memory-hole his now-infamous “hoax” sound bite—has started to send menacing cease-and-desist letters to local TV stations that air an attack ad highlighting the comment. (The campaign contends that the ad, created by a liberal super PAC, takes the clip so far out of context as to make it defamatory; fact-checkers aren’t so sure.)

In the conservative media, talking heads and talk-radio hosts have labored to convince their audiences that—despite what they may have heard—the president never doubted the gravity of the coronavirus. Central to this case is Trump’s decision in late January to restrict travel from China, when the severity of the outbreak in Wuhan was becoming clear.

Skeptics on both the right and the left have dismissed the move as a token measure that did little to prepare the U.S. for an imminent outbreak. A more generous assessment may be that while restricting travel from China slowed the spread of the virus on the West Coast, Trump’s delay in restricting travel from Europe helped turn New York into the pandemic’s global epicenter. In any case, the policy is cited incessantly on Fox News as proof of Trump’s prescience. Sean Hannity has predicted that it will “go down as the single most consequential decision in history,” and mused, “How [much] worse could this have been if the president didn’t act that quickly?”

To sharpen their narrative, Trump’s allies have taken to juxtaposing his travel restriction with cherry-picked clips of journalists downplaying the threat of the virus earlier this year. Donald Trump Jr. recently shared such a supercut with his 2.6 million Instagram followers alongside an all-caps message: “THE MEDIA WANTS YOU TO THINK MY DAD DIDN'T TAKE CHINA VIRUS SERIOUSLY. WELL LISTEN TO THIS.”

Perhaps the strangest subplot in the crusade to vindicate the president has revolved around a once-obscure anti-malaria drug. Last month, Trump latched onto the idea that chloroquine, and the related hydroxychloroquine, held the key to combatting the coronavirus. This theory had little evidence to support it beyond a handful of anecdotes and flawed studies. But the drug was being touted by Dr. Mehmet Oz, a TV star and Fox News regular, as well as Rudy Giuliani—and the allure of a miracle cure was apparently too tempting to resist. The president hyped the drug in one briefing after another, dubbing it a potential “game-changer,” and urging sick patients to take it. “What do you have to lose?” he mused.

When these presidential prescriptions drew criticism from some in the medical community—who noted, among other things, the drug’s potentially fatal side effects—Trump was defiant. Overnight, hydroxychloroquine was transformed into a right-wing weapon of culture war. The drug became a prime-time staple on Fox News, and a fixation of MAGA memes. A conservative group called the Job Creators Network launched a digital campaign to promote the drug using targeted texts and Facebook ads.

As the drug grew more controversial, false claims about its effectiveness circulated widely on social media. To see where the chatter was coming from, Graphika—a data firm that tracks online disinformation—used suspicious Twitter accounts identified by an independent security researcher named Eric Ellason to map the conversation. The firm told me that the drug appears to be especially interesting to conspiracy theorists: Among those discussing hydroxychloroquine in the U.S., the most common hashtags included #Gates, #Soros, and #darktolight, a QAnon rallying cry. But the “vast majority” of the conversation, Graphika found, was taking place among right-wing users, many of whom are invested in making the president look like a visionary.

[Read: Trump’s dangerously effective coronavirus Propaganda]

For now, the facts on the ground remain the greatest obstacle to Trump’s revisionists. In Detroit, people are dying in emergency-room hallways. In New York City, bodies are loaded into refrigerated trucks and buried in mass graves. Field hospitals have sprouted up in parks and convention centers. Meanwhile, damning reports in the press detail how Trump’s stubbornly cavalier attitude toward the pandemic hobbled his administration’s response.

As reality continues to assert itself in the coming months—whether in the form of rising death tolls, or clinical drug trials, or shifting White House policy—Trump’s information warriors will likely retreat from some of their current positions. (They may also notch a few “wins” as the facts catch up to their narratives.) In the meantime, they are staying cautiously on message.

In a recent episode of his Fox News show, Tucker Carlson—who was ahead of the curve on this story—ridiculed The New York Times’ coverage of the virus, while ignoring his own network’s failures and giving the president a pass. “As you know, the establishment media has been screwing up coronavirus stories from day one,” he told his viewers.

Hannity concluded his own takedown of the “media mob” with a carefully caveated declaration of victory: “They were wrong. The president—on January 31st—was right.”

While these shows generally don’t mention that Trump and Fox News were playing down the pandemic long after the mainstream media realized its danger, that fact hasn’t been entirely forgotten.“I want to defend every single person who was wrong on this,” Greg Gutfeld, a co-host of The Five, said last week. “Because I think the best analogy for dealing with this pandemic is a sports car. You have to shift gears depending on the terrain.”

RELATED PODCAST

Listen to McKay Coppins discuss this story on an episode of Social Distance, The Atlantic’s podcast about living through a pandemic:

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MCKAY COPPINS is a staff writer at The Atlantic and the author of The Wilderness, a book about the battle over the future of the Republican Party.

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The Real Point of Trump’s Coronavirus Press Conferences

The president is inescapable right now. That’s by design.

By Peter Nicholas | Published April 7, 2020 | The Atlantic Magazine | Posted April 17, 2020 |

When she finishes her 12-hour shift in the intensive-care unit at Riverside Community Hospital, Katherine Montanino stuffs her clothes into a dirty-linen bag and swaps out her soiled shoes for a fresh pair. Arriving home, she takes a shower before she hugs her family. Then she might flip on the television to see what President Donald Trump is saying about the virus she’s straining to avoid.

The 44-year-old nurse from Riverside, California, voted for Trump and might do it again. Yet with her colleagues rationing masks and the number of COVID-19 cases growing, Trump’s digressions into partisan politics leave her cold. “It’s one of the things I wish he would just stop,” she told me. “I understand he’s trying to build for the presidential campaign coming up. But it’s not the time right now. It’s not about him. Honestly, it’s about life and death.”

A president commands a formidable platform when the nation is under threat. As the pandemic worsens, Trump has been inescapable. His daily press briefings draw millions of viewers. He’s cultivated public fights with Democratic governors over scarce supplies. And he’s ignited cultural clashes by calling the novel coronavirus the “Chinese virus.” As the briefings stretch into their second hour, the wartime president morphs into the aggrieved candidate, who has created a spectacle that a captive audience can’t ignore.

One timeline in play is how long it will take before infections subside. Another is the political calendar. The two are entwined. In this new era of social distancing, Trump can’t hold rallies as a way to mobilize his base and diminish his rivals. But he’s embraced the bully pulpit, and in his hands—and at this jarring moment in the nation’s history—it’s potentially more valuable than routine campaigning. As the election approaches, he may be more and more tempted to use it for his own purposes. His prospects now hinge, after all, on his handling of the outbreak. His focus in the coming months will be to convince voters that he led a dauntless effort to keep Americans alive.

“Trump’s opponent really is the coronavirus,” Senator Lindsey Graham, a Republican from South Carolina and a friend of the president’s, told me. “If he’s seen to have handled this well and done a good job in the eyes of the public, he’d be almost impossible to beat. If he’s viewed as having fallen short, he’d be in trouble.”

Trump quickly found a substitute for the raucous rallies he’s had to forgo amid the crisis, which his pollster John McLaughlin described as “like the September 11 attack and the 2008 financial crisis combined.” Two days after he canceled his last rally, on March 11, Trump showed up in the Rose Garden for the first of 24 straight news conferences and press gaggles. He’s revived a tradition that he’d previously done away with: the daily White House press briefings, only with himself as emcee. He doesn’t skip a day, whether he has anything new to say or not.

“From a purely political standpoint, he can be seen as the commander in chief for up to two hours a day, leading the country through this crisis,” Sean Spicer, the president’s former press secretary, told me. “In this case,” Joe Biden, Trump’s presumptive general-election opponent, “is left on the sidelines.”

No president has used the bully pulpit quite like Trump in this moment. Before the Great Pandemic came the Great Depression. At the time, Franklin D. Roosevelt used his fireside chats to reassure the country, preparing carefully with his speechwriters, Doris Kearns Goodwin, the presidential biographer, told me. “He wanted to make sure he had the right language, the right message, and the right data coming forward.” Trump’s news conferences, by contrast, spin off in all directions: ungrateful governors and Facebook followers, impeachment and Biden—lots of Biden.

But imagery could work in his favor. Trump stands behind a lectern adorned with the presidential seal. He holds news conferences in the iconic Rose Garden. Flanking him most days is Anthony Fauci, a public-health expert so admired that his face is now imprinted on bobblehead dolls, and whose mere presence lends authority to a president whom many Americans  don’t trust to speak truthfully about the threat. (Twitter lights up in alarm whenever Fauci doesn’t appear alongside Trump, though a White House aide told me the absences are only because the doctor needs time to rest or work.)

Biden, meantime, is hunkered down in the basement of his Delaware home, sending podcasts into the ether. “Voters in times of crisis want to rally around their leader,” Brian Fallon, a Hillary Clinton spokesperson in the 2016 campaign, told me. “To the extent that Trump is out there and on TV every day with all the trappings of the office, he’s playing the part. It gets him some of the benefit of the doubt that voters want to confer on their leaders.” Even Biden has acknowledged the tough position he’s in. “You can’t compete with a president,” he said at a virtual fundraising event last week. “That’s the ultimate bully pulpit.”

A disciplined use of that perch would look very different from what the president is doing. Trump could make a brief appearance to rally the country and then exit, leaving the rest to the public-health experts. He could set a time limit. He could decline to take questions unless they deal with life and safety, citing the gravity of the threat.

As chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff during the Gulf War, Colin Powell also gave press briefings under difficult circumstances. One of his rules was to keep them short, Powell told me, declining to discuss Trump specifically. “My experience was, you don’t need more than 30 minutes to make your point,” he said. “If you go more than 30 minutes, you start to talk over yourself; you start to open up your flanks. You get attacked.”

Brevity may not serve Trump’s purposes. The longer he talks, the more openings he gets to distract from the messy government response or to skewer his foes.

He has repeatedly brought up Biden without ever being asked. On Saturday, after one health expert gave a technical answer about tracking the virus’s spread, Trump followed up with a non sequitur: Biden, he told viewers, had praised his January 31 decision to ban travel from China. Something similar happened on March 26. When a reporter asked Trump about his message that Asian Americans shouldn’t be blamed for the virus, he veered into a complaint about “Sleepy Joe Biden” and Chinese trade deals. Asked about his credibility during another briefing the week before, Trump again didn’t answer. Instead, he said he was beating “Sleepy Joe Biden by a lot in Florida.” (In his opening remarks at yesterday’s briefing, Trump mentioned that he and Biden had talked amicably about the crisis in a 15-minute phone call earlier in the day.)

[ Read: Trump is on a collision Course]

Incentives to further politicize the stage will only grow. As the general-election race begins in earnest, Trump may be more brash about slipping in the talking points he can no longer deliver to thousands of cheering MAGA supporters. “The purpose of these should be to provide factual, important information to people in a crisis—information they can trust,” says David Lapan, a former Trump-administration spokesperson at the Department of Homeland Security. “That gets diluted when they turn these into mini rallies.”

Stephanie Grisham, the White House press secretary, told me that Trump “thinks it’s very important to be the face of this in terms of comforting the country, telling the country what we’re doing, and trying to be as transparent as possible.”

People’s patience may be waning. After early poll numbers showed that a majority of Americans approved of Trump’s response to the outbreak, his ratings have started to slip. An ABC News/Ipsos poll showed only 47 percent approved of his efforts, with 52 percent disapproving.

By contrast, New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, who also has been holding televised daily news conferences during the crisis, enjoys 87 percent approval. That’s the sort of rating leaders normally get at the early points of a national crisis—a level Trump has not been able to match.

Trump isn’t about to stop talking; the cable networks won’t stop filming. One person who will be watching is Montanino. She told me that a friend’s husband recently died from the disease and that she’s seen more people getting sick. There’s something she’d like to hear Trump say, an unadorned message free of any politics: “I don’t have this under control, but we as a nation will get through this,” and then, perhaps, step aside for the experts to give life-and-death answers.

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An Unprecedented Divide Between Red and Blue America

The pandemic could exacerbate a major Trump-reelection vulnerability: his weakness with urban and suburban voters.

By RONALD BROWNSTEIN | Published April 16, 2020 5:00 AM ET | The Atlantic Magazine | Posted April 17, 2020 |

Updated on April 16, 2020 at 3:59 p.m. ET

The coronavirus pandemic appears destined to widen the political divide between the nation’s big cities and the smaller places beyond them. And that could narrow Donald Trump’s possible pathways to reelection.

In almost every state, the outbreak is spreading much more heavily in the largest metropolitan centers than in less densely populated areas, even when the figures are adjusted on a per capita basis, according to a new analysis by the economist Jed Kolko provided exclusively to The Atlantic.

That pattern threatens to exacerbate one of Trump’s most conspicuous political vulnerabilities: his historical weakness in big metropolitan areas that are full of the minority and white-collar white voters most skeptical of him. From the Virginia governor’s race in 2017, to a sweep of suburban House districts in 2018, to the upset victory in Kentucky’s gubernatorial race last year, Democrats have consistently posted significant gains in these areas under Trump. The pattern continued in the unexpected Democratic victory this week in a highly contested state-supreme-court election in Wisconsin, a state that could be the tipping point in the 2020 presidential race.

The question for Trump this fall will be whether he can offset that weakness by matching or building on his dominant advantage in exurban, small-town, and rural communities. In Wisconsin this week, the GOP lost ground with those voters too, but by and large, polling still shows Trump holding a strong position among them. And because most rural communities are facing fewer cases of the disease so far, they may be much more receptive than big-city leaders and voters to Trump’s calls to reopen the economy as quickly as possible.

These political, public-health, and economic trends all point toward the same possibility: Just as the disease is unfolding very differently in larger and smaller places, the gap between voter preferences there in the presidential race could reach astronomical, and possibly unprecedented, heights.

Epidemiologists and other medical experts disagree on whether the disease will ultimately besiege smaller places to a greater extent than it has so far. But there’s no question that it’s exacted its heaviest costs on major cities and their inner suburbs, including New York City, Detroit, Chicago, Boston, New Orleans, Los Angeles, and Seattle. “Densely populated urban areas are uniquely vulnerable to rapid spread of the virus,” said Larry Levitt, the executive vice president for health policy at the nonpartisan Kaiser Family Foundation.

The research conducted at The Atlantic’s request by Kolko, the chief economist at the employment website Indeed, quantifies that dynamic. Using a comprehensive county database  maintained by The New York Times, Kolko calculated the number of coronavirus cases per million people within four different regional categories: those in large metropolitan areas of at least 1 million people; those in metros of 250,000 to 1 million; those in small metros with less than 250,000; and those in counties outside of metro areas. The consistent result was that, in most states, heavily populated areas are suffering many more cases per person.

Perhaps the most extreme example: The counties in New York State that fall under the largest metro category—New York City and its environs—have 12,454 cases per million residents. That’s compared with 3,304 in New York’s midsize metros, 1,556 in the smaller metros, and 915 in the nonmetro counties. In Michigan, where the Detroit area has been ravaged by the disease, the caseload drops from 4,787 per million residents in the largest counties to 1,000 per million in the midsize metros, 874 in the smaller metros, and just 346 in the nonmetro counties.

[ Read: The two states where Trump’s COVID-19 response could backfire in 2020]

Similar patterns apply across a wide range of states. In Illinois, where the coronavirus has battered Chicago and its closest suburbs, the largest metro counties are experiencing seven times as many cases per person as the midsize metros, and more than eight times as many as the nonmetro counties. In California, where both the San Francisco and Los Angeles areas have been hit hard, the largest metropolitan counties have more than three times as many cases per capita as the small metro and nonmetro communities. A similar pattern is also evident in Ohio, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania across the Rust Belt and North Carolina, Florida, and Texas across the Sun Belt, Kolko’s data show.

The few exceptions were states that have suffered large outbreaks in rural areas, such as Georgia (where the caseload in small places is as heavy as in the big cities) and Arizona (where the caseload in nonmetro counties has exceeded that of the biggest places).

The strains on public-health systems have followed these same tracks. Although the big metro areas typically have much greater hospital capacity than smaller places, they are also facing much greater pressure. Hospital systems in cities such as New York City and Detroit have faced widespread infection among health workers, as well as severe equipment shortages.

Large hospitals have reported a far greater surge in demand for medical equipment than smaller hospitals, according to new research from Premier Inc., a company that manages bulk purchasing for hospitals. In the survey, conducted in mid-March before the worst of the outbreak hit, large hospitals reported that they were using 17 times as many N95 masks as usual, Soumi Saha, the company’s senior director of advocacy, told me. Smaller hospitals were using about seven times as many. “The surge in demand that we are seeing currently is truly unprecedented,” Saha said.

These contrasting experiences help explain the divergence in attitudes toward Trump’s handling of the crisis. In a national Quinnipiac University survey released last week, just 37 percent of adults living in cities and 44 percent of those in suburbs said they approved of Trump’s management of the outbreak. By stark contrast, 63 percent of those in rural areas said they approved. In the latest tracking polling conducted by the Democratic firms GBAO and the Global Strategy Group, a majority of Americans in all three regions said Trump failed to take the threat seriously enough at the outset of the pandemic. But the numbers were significantly higher in urban and suburban areas, where almost two-thirds of respondents said he acted too slowly.

Other danger signs are sprouting for Trump in big urban centers. Maricopa County, which includes Phoenix, was the largest county in America that Trump won in 2016. But a new poll, released this week by the Republican firm OH Predictive Insights, found Trump trailing former Vice President Joe Biden there by 13 percentage points. The survey also found Biden leading by nine points statewide, even though Democrats haven’t won Arizona in a presidential race since 1996. These results track with Maricopa’s movement away from the GOP in 2018, when Democratic Senator Kyrsten Sinema won the ordinarily Republican-leaning county by about four points.

The results in wisconsin this week offered an even more visceral measure of Trump’s continuing risk in major population centers. In the state’s supreme-court election—whose timing was extremely controversial, given the pandemic—the liberal Jill Karofsky decisively ousted the conservative incumbent Daniel Kelly.

Karofsky showed formidable strength across the state’s population centers, even though they are confronting the most serious outbreaks of the disease. Although the number of polling places in Milwaukee was limited to just five, Karofsky amassed a 70,000-vote advantage in that county. She also carried Dane County, which includes the state capital of Madison, by a crushing 62-percentage-point margin. That’s far larger than Hillary Clinton’s advantage there in 2016 (48 points) or the Democrat Tony Evers’s lead in the 2018 governor’s race (51 points).

“Dane County is the fastest-growing county in the state: massive electronic-medical-records [industry], plus biotech—and that’s not even counting the big insurance-industry component, the University of Wisconsin, and state government,” said Charles Franklin, a law and public-policy professor at Marquette University’s law school and the director of its respected public poll. “Not only does [the county] grow, but its turnout rate goes up year after year, and it’s even more Democratic from race to race to race.”

Karofsky also posted notable gains in two sets of suburban counties that are closely watched during election season. The so-called WOW counties outside of Milwaukee—Waukesha, Ozaukee, and Washington—are perhaps the most Republican-leaning major suburban counties north of the Mason-Dixon line. But, as Franklin noted, Trump won them in 2016 by less than Mitt Romney did in 2012. More recently, former Republican Governor Scott Walker carried them by a smaller margin in his losing 2018 campaign than he did in his winning 2014 race.

This week, Karofsky significantly reduced the GOP’s margin in all three counties—not only compared with Trump’s wins, but also compared with another state-supreme-court election last year. “In the WOW counties, I believe there is something systematically happening,” Franklin said. “Though it has not converted them from red to blue, it has converted them from deep red to less red.”

Just as strikingly, Karofsky won all three of the so-called BOW counties around Green Bay—Brown, Outagamie, and Winnebago—which Trump had carried comfortably in 2016, and Walker more narrowly in 2018.

Republicans, with justification, argue that the results may be skewed because the election took place on the same day as the Democratic presidential primary, which may have tilted the turnout more toward Democratic voters.

But these results are consistent with one of the most powerful political through lines of the Trump era: a recoil from his vision of the Republican Party among urban and suburban voters. In 2016, Trump lost 87 of the 100 largest U.S. counties, by a combined nearly 15 million votes. That was significantly larger than Romney’s 11.6-million-vote deficit in the 100 largest counties. In 2018, Republicans were routed in suburban House districts not only in metropolitan areas that were already trending toward the Democrats—including New Jersey and Northern Virginia and Chicago, Detroit, and Denver—but also in places where the GOP had previously remained strong, such as Richmond, Atlanta, Houston, Dallas, and Orange County, California.

[Read: Big cities won’t snap back to normal]

Geoff Garin, the veteran Democratic pollster, said that since 2018, Trump has not offered any concessions in policy or style to the moderate, white-collar suburban voters who stampeded away from the party.

“I haven’t seen anything to suggest that what happened to Trump and Republicans in the suburbs in 2018 has abated, and it’s hard to think of anything they’ve done or even tried to do that would make their situation any better in the suburbs than it was,” Garin said. If anything, Trump’s volatile behavior during the coronavirus outbreak has highlighted the concerns that many white-collar voters express about his temperament, Garin said: “that he doesn’t tell the truth, [that] he refuses to listen to experts, that his whole leadership style is erratic and chaotic when the country needs stable and steady leadership.”

In a measure of that vulnerability, national polls released last week by Monmouth University and CNN both found that fewer than 40 percent of college-educated white voters said they approved of Trump’s response to the outbreak; the OH poll found Biden leading Trump by 14 percentage points among the same voters in Arizona, another stunning margin.

To varying degrees, Republicans in the Trump era have been able to make up for their suburban decline with commanding margins among exurban, rural, and small-town voters, who are more likely to be blue-collar, white, and Christian. Despite his deficit in the 100 largest counties, Trump won more than 2,600 counties overall in 2016, more than any nominee of either party since Ronald Reagan in 1984.

But since then, there have been hints that Trump might struggle to replicate these results. In the 2018 House races, the share of the total vote won by Democrats increased by roughly the same amount in rural and more urban places compared with 2016, according to calculations by Bill Bishop, a reporter for The Daily Yonder website, which tracks rural issues. Andy Beshear, the Kentucky Democrat, notched some rural gains in his winning governor’s race last year, and Karofsky this week notably improved on recent Democratic showings in the rural northwest corner of Wisconsin.

Still, even with those gains, it’s not all good news for Democrats. The party won less than 40 percent of the total 2018 House vote in the most rural counties, according to The Daily Yonder’s classification system. Big rural margins also helped Republicans oust Democratic senators in Missouri, North Dakota, and Indiana that year. Karofsky still lost most of the counties in Wisconsin’s northwest. And the debate over how quickly to reopen the economy could align Trump with many rural communities against most Democrats and public-health experts.

Many big-city mayors are dubious that it will be safe anytime soon to reopen their economies on a mass scale, and they’ve warned that economic recovery could come slowly. “There may also be bigger challenges getting people back to work in urban areas,” Levitt, of the Kaiser Family Foundation, said. “People in cities rely much more heavily on public transportation, and they work and shop in much closer quarters.”

“The piecemeal fashion that we entered into these ‘stay at home’ orders could prove disastrous if we take a similar approach to exiting these orders,” Dallas Mayor Eric Johnson texted me on Thursday. “A more coordinated approach to relaxing and ultimately ending these harsh restrictions—whether it is national, statewide or regional—is our best insurance against the virus raging back and making all of our sacrifices for naught.”

A divergence in the economic recovery of urban and nonurban areas—coming after a comparable split in their experience with the disease itself—could put Trump in a difficult position. It could force him to generate even bigger margins in small communities to offset a potentially weaker performance than last time in the largest ones. In all these ways, the virus’s effect on America is coursing through the channels already cut by its existing geographic and political differences. It should surprise no one if a current this powerful and destabilizing only deepens that divide.

*********

America’s COVID-19 Disaster Is a Setback for Democracy

If the country’s institutions cannot function effectively during a crisis, and especially if a view takes hold that authoritarian regimes are managing the crisis more decisively, a grim future lies ahead.

By Larry Diamond | Published April 16, 2020 2:32 PM ET | The Atlantic Magazine | Posted April 17, 2020 |

In December 1940—a year before the attack on Pearl Harbor, but well into Britain’s struggle for survival against the Nazis—President Franklin D. Roosevelt called for the United States to abandon isolationism and become “the arsenal of democracy.” To make that happen, he mobilized American industry and produced the planes, ships, guns, and ammunition needed to defeat fascism.

With COVID-19, America faces a new existential enemy, and the country must again summon its industrial might and its scientific and engineering prowess to fight it. This is not an imperative only for the American people. Once the country has met its own overwhelming needs, the world is going to require America’s medicines, science, and supplies on a massive scale. If, when this pandemic finally abates, the dominant global narrative becomes “It was China’s authoritarian system that helped us, while the democracies of the West floundered and selfishly turned in on themselves,” humanity will emerge from this devastating crisis into a radically different and more dangerous world, one deeply hostile to freedom and self-government.

[ Tim Horley, Anne Meng, and Mila Versteeg: The world is experiencing a new form of autocracy]

Pandemics fan the instinct for closure and walling off. The U.S. can shut its borders temporarily, but there is no returning to “fortress America.” The country’s interests—and its values—are all too global.

Donald Trump’s cavalier downplaying of intelligence reports warning of a worldwide outbreak in early January—and the subsequent 70 days of what The Washington Post termed  “denial and dysfunction” across his administration—squandered precious weeks when the U.S. could have taken concerted steps to prepare for and contain the coming crisis. His continued pattern of deceit and deception about the nature and scope of the public-health disaster further cost the country a “golden hour” that could have been used to begin mass production and distribution of tests and equipment, and to educate the public about the gravity of the coming pandemic and the urgent need for social distancing. A different presidential posture early on could have saved many American lives.

It didn’t have to be this way. The narrative that China is trying to promote after its rapid recovery from the virus—that its semi-totalitarian control of people and information is the only way to manage a pandemic like this—is wrong on two counts. First, China’s authoritarian instinct to suppress bad news enabled the virus to explode in Wuhan in December, when it might have been contained by the free flow of information and a rapid emergency response. Second, democratic societies in Asia—South Korea and especially Taiwan (along with a more transparent non-democracy, Singapore)—have been able to contain the virus without China’s draconian, communist-style measures. As Rachel Kleinfeld of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace has argued, they’ve done so by learning the lessons of the SARS epidemic and using strong health systems and reservoirs of public legitimacy and trust to test quickly and widely and track infected individuals.

Crises always test self-government. Unlike authoritarian regimes—which can use force, fear, and fraud to control their populations—democracies rely on open information and the consent of the governed. Unlike China, democracies cannot cover up their failures for very long. If citizens lose faith in the legitimacy of democracy as the best form of government—if their institutions cannot function effectively during a crisis, and especially if a view takes hold that authoritarian regimes are managing the crisis more “decisively”—many democracies will be at grave risk of failure.

[ Anne Applebaum: Epidemics reveal the truth about the societies that they hit]

Unfortunately, the COVID-19 pandemic is unfolding at a time when democracy—at home and abroad—is already in distress. For more than a decade,  freedom and democracy have been in recession, and more countries have lost than gained political rights and civil liberties in each of the past 14 years. In the past decade, the rate of democratic breakdown has been accelerating, and nearly a fifth of all democracies are failing (nearly double the proportion of democracies that died in each of the preceding two decades). As the advanced, postindustrial democracies have become preoccupied with their own problems and divisions; as their prestige has waned (particularly that of the U.S.) following the 2003 invasion of Iraq and then the 2008 financial crisis; and as Russia and especially China have expanded their global propaganda operations, power projection, and self-confidence, democracy has been placed on the defensive.

The world is still in the early days of the pandemic, and by the end, some countries may be making foundational changes to their systems of government. Even wealthy states with relatively strong administrative and public-health capacities, such as Italy and the U.S., find their medical systems under strain. Imagine what will happen when the coronavirus spreads mostly unchecked in countries that lack the public-health and economic resources of wealthier countries. Health systems are likely to become overwhelmed much more quickly. Poor urban neighborhoods—where people live crowded together, with little access to sanitation, health care, or public safety, and many with weakened immune systems—could become intensive breeding grounds for the virus. Without smart and generous policy responses by donor countries “that can successfully navigate the complex health and security realities,” the death tolls in the world’s poorer nations could run into the millions. To preempt that, Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi in late March took the most dramatic step of any nation to try to stop the spread of the virus: a three-week stay-at-home order for all 1.3 billion citizens.

The political effects of this crisis are likely to be profound. In the medium to long run, the economic distress, piled atop the death toll, could destabilize and even topple many governments. That could wreak havoc on fragile democracies—or renew the case for transparency and good governance, which are hallmarks of liberal democracy. In the near term, the pandemic, with its need for rapid and strong government action, “provides a particularly convincing cover under which autocrats can pursue their agendas.” This cover is rapidly being exploited by autocrats around the world, from Russia to Turkey to Venezuela to Egypt; by pseudo-democrats eager to establish full dictatorship, such as Viktor Orbán of Hungary; and by democratically elected rulers—from the Philippines to India to Poland—intent on silencing free expression. Governments are ramping up information control and digital surveillance of citizens while, in the words of the Human Rights Watch president, Kenneth Roth, “detaining journalists, opposition activists, healthcare workers, and anyone else who dares to criticize the official response to the coronavirus.”

The siren song of strongman rule will be harder to resist if authoritarian regimes appear to be managing the virus more successfully. Democracies must show that they can govern effectively to meet the pressing public-health and economic dimensions of the crisis. Above all, this requires urgent steps to stop the spread of the virus through rigorous social distancing and widespread testing; to shore up the capacity of health systems to treat the sick (through the requisition and manufacturing of personal protective equipment, ventilators, and other crucial medical supplies); to construct new temporary hospital facilities when necessary; and to expedite the testing and development of potential treatments and, ultimately, a vaccine. The U.S. and its democratic partners must also act expeditiously to distribute financial relief to businesses and workers to prevent the deep and unavoidable economic recession from becoming a depression.

Annie Lowrey: This is not a recession. It’s an ice age.

This leads to a political imperative, which, if not met, could strain and even rupture American democracy. If the COVID-19 contagion persists through or resurges in the fall, the possibilities for a free and fair election on November 3 could be jeopardized. This does not need to happen. The U.S. has half a year to avoid a repeat of the horrible spectacle of the Wisconsin primary last week, when voters, unable to vote by mail, were forced to risk infection by waiting in lines, without proper distancing, to vote at crowded polling stations that had been reduced in number by more than 90 percent. People should be excused from the obligation of going out on Election Day to a polling place where they may face long lines, shared surfaces on which the virus may diffuse, and inadequate numbers of poll workers. Every American who wants to do so should be able to freely vote by mail, or to receive in the mail a ballot that they can drop off at a polling or counting center. If social distancing is the immediate public-health directive for limiting the spread of the virus, distant voting is the clear electoral parallel. Many states require financial and technical assistance (totaling up to $3 billion nationally) to make this option available to all voters, and Congress must appropriate the funds soon.

This shouldn’t be a partisan issue. Older voters, non-urban voters, and red-state voters are no less anxious to be able to cast a vote that does not put their health at risk. In fact, because of the nature of the virus, older voters are more at risk if they go to the polls. Moreover, a solidly Republican state, Utah, will join Hawaii this year to become the fifth state in the country to vote entirely by mail. The switch caps a years-long process in which voter turnout dramatically increased along with voter satisfaction as Utah counties, one by one, adopted voting by mail.

Nothing the U.S. could do to shore up the global fate of democracy would have a greater impact than the effective management of its own epidemic, economic crisis, and election. But the country must not allow its domestic trials to blind it to the need for international action and vigilance in the face of authoritarian ambition and disinformation.

The best hope for controlling and reversing the pandemic lies in deep, multifaceted cooperation among countries, sharing information, supplies, and research that can lead to medical treatments and a vaccine for the virus. That is why, even with all its flaws, America—as much as the rest of the world—needs an effective World Health Organization. President Trump’s efforts to suspend U.S. payments to the organization is shortsighted and self-defeating. Additionally, independent media and civil-society organizations around the globe need the financial support of Western democracies to ensure the free flow of information and the self-organization of society, to counter both the pandemic and the tendency of rulers to use the pandemic to aggrandize their power and eclipse civil liberties.

American diplomacy, solidarity, and assistance can make a difference in saving many lives while preventing the full-scale retreat of freedom. But if that’s not what happens, if America stands back and watches from the sidelines while governments and societies unravel, the coronavirus and its likely mutations will kill many more. And eventually, when the pandemic does subside, the world will be much more unstable, unsafe, and badly governed, a breeding ground for Islamist and other radical movements, for resentment of the West, and for a new world order with China at its center.

_____

This story is part of the project “The Battle for the Constitution,” in partnership with the National Constitution Center.

______

LARRY DIAMOND is a senior fellow at the Hoover Institution and at the Freeman Spogli Institute at Stanford University. He is the author of Ill Winds: Saving Democracy from Russian Rage, Chinese Ambition, and American Complacency.

*********

[switchcheek14-blog]

NFL Mock Draft 2019: Denver Broncos bolster defense

The Broncos are in an interesting spot here. They are fresh off of a year that had some cause for optimism, yet left much to be desired. The Silver Lining: they add some impressive pieces (starting with 1st round pick Bradley Chubb) to a defense that was ranked 1 st and 10th in overall defensive DVOA the past two years (respectively), and wind up improving their overall defensive DVOA to 5th in the NFL. They also found some promising offensive weapons in rookies Cortland Sutton and Phillip Lindsay. Then the Not So Bright: They pay Case Keenum $36 million over two years to bring them over the hump after leading the Vikings to an NFC Championship berth (thanks for the memories Case #SuperBowlChampions), and he rewards them with an 18/15 TD/INT ratio only toget traded to the LolSkins for a swap of 6th and 7th round picks. All of this is happening while the Chiefs and Chargers take the leap to serious Championship contenders for theforeseeable future and the Raiders … well at least they have three 1 st round draft picks.

So let’s use those facts and our logic to address the elephant in the room: it’s got to be a quarterback at 10 right?? Well, unfortunately for this mock there are no trades, meaning that the Broncos cannot trade up for the top options this year in Murray or Haskins (then again, neither are 6’7 so who knows if John Elway would even consider them). They are left with options consisting of Drew Lock, Daniel Jones, and Ryan Finley. I honestly can’t say any of those guys move the needle as a top 10 pick, even in a shallow positional draft class such as this. Do the Broncos eschew the fact that none of these QBs are worth the 10th overall pick and just go with it? Do they make the same mistakes under Elway and draft players just because they are at this position of weakness? (see: Paxton Lynch).

I don’t think so, especially since Elway can use the Joe Flacco trade as his “kick it another year down the road” cop-out and wait for what looks on the surface to be a QB class as deep as any in recent memory in 2020. What we cannot discount is that Elway’s new HC Vic Fangio is a defensive guru. Akin to McVay being a “QB Whisperer”, Vic Fangio is his equal as a “LB Whisperer”. The Broncos just lost Brandon Marshall and are left with Todd Davis and Josey Jewell (sorry, WHO?!?!) to quarterback their defense.Everywhere that Fangio has coached in his professional career there has been a stud LB calling the shots in the middle of his defense, with the likes of Danny Trevathan, Roquan Smith, Patrick Willis, Ray Lewis, Navarro Bowman, Sam Mills, and Rickey Jackson. With that being said, let’s sprint to the podium and select the player that self-models his game after Patrick Willis as your newest Bronco – DEVIN WHITE (LB, LSU).

College Overview

College Career: 3 years at LSU, 2 year starter. 286 total tackles with 114 solo tackles, 28.5 tackles for loss, 8.5 sacks, 1 interception, 9 passes defended, 3fumble recoveries and 4 forced fumbles.

Freshman Season: SEC All-Freshman squad.

Sophomore Season: MVP award, First-Team All-SEC and Second-Team USA Today All-American.

Junior Season: First-Team All-SEC and Associated Press All-American, culminated his college career by winning the Butkus Award (Top Linebacker in the Country).

His talent speaks for itself. The man posted some video game stats with 256 total tackles (99 solo tackles), 25.5 tackles for loss, 7.5 sacks, 1 interception, 9 passes defended, 2 fumble recoveries and 3 forced fumbles in the last 2 years alone. When watching the tape, it feels like he was in on just about every tackle for LSUover that time period. You would be hard pressed to find a linebacker with that kind of production in college, let alone in their only 2 seasons as a starter. It speaks not only to the quality of his play but his leadership that he was team captain for both of these years, his true sophomore and junior seasons; a high accomplishment considering the talent on the LSU defense year in and year out.

On top of his college production, White showed up at the NFL Combine in Indianapolis:

Height - 6’0 Weight - 237lbs Wingspan - 32 1/8” Hands - 9 3/4”

40 Yard Dash - 4.42 20 Yard Shuttle - 4.17 Bench Press - 22 Bench Vertical - 39.5 Vert Broad Jump - 9.83’

*via MockDraftable

Ahh yes, the spider-graph. Catnip to BGN readers. It is a little skewed as his physical measurements may not jump off the page to you, but I believe that the conversation of “it is all about measurements in the NFL” is a little over-blown. Playmakers are going to get their shot. More specifically, a similar player that hails from his alma mater Deion Jones is not too far off from White’s (6’2,222lbs). I think it is safe to say Jones has over-exceeded the Falcons expectations early on in his career, and if White could replicate that production from the start of his own NFL career then it would be a slam-dunk pick. But looking at his sheer athleticism (4.42 40 with a 4.17 shuttle) and coupling thatwith his eye-popping college production, I think White has a chance to outshine his former teammate and bring the Broncos defense to even greater heights.Let’s get into the tape to find a little more out about the Broncos 2019 first rounder.

STRENGTHS

Devin White is as close to a complete linebacker as you are going to find in college. He is a physical freak with the football intelligence to match. White’s strengths fit best into the following categories: Processing, Pass Rush, Range and Coverage.

Processing

In today’s NFL, the most elite offenses have one thing in common: an effective balance of pass/run, with pressure on the quarterback alleviated by RPO. In the following clip,White shows his ability in zone to read and react to the quarterback faking the handoff to hit the short slant for a sizeable gain on first down.

That quick recovery step to reset his feet and make a pass deflection is something that White will have to do on a regular basis in an NFL scheme that often rotates between zone and man. In the following clip, White shows that same football intelligence in the run game:

While the rest of his team flows with the line, White stays home and watches the running back cut back to a large hole for what would have been a sizeable gain. He sets his feet, sees the RB cut, and takes the appropriate angle to finish with a great tackle for only a 2-yard gain. When he couples his athleticism with a high football intelligence and split-second reactions, he shows his true ability as a player that can take the air out of an offense on any drive.

Pass Rush/Attack the Line

White has the ability to be a difference maker in the pass rush as well. I should clarify, by pass rush I mean his ability to shoot the gap and attack the line. He is as effective against the running game as the passing game, where either situation would reward a player that can target their gap and shoot through it before a lineman is able to fill. In the following clip, White’s athleticism and timing are on display against a stout Auburn front:

(Click here)

While he does not make the tackle here, he is able to generate enough havoc that forces the running back to disrupt his momentum with a side-step and allow his fellow defenders to get into the backfield with Auburn’s heels on their own goal line. He shows this same kind of timing and burst in the passing game as well:

Although he does not finish the sack, his ability to get through a gap untouched on a delayed blitz, giving the quarterback 2 seconds to find his receiver is eye popping each time you see this highlight (and yes, it happens regularly with White). His skill set in finding the right gap in the split-second before the ball is snapped is instinctual and that sets the difference between an effective linebacker and a defense-changing player.

Range

White’s draft-day chops are most likely to start and end with his unbelievable ability to play the entire field. Not many defenders can truly consider themselves “sideline-to-sideline”, but White has proven that ability time and time again in college. In their game against Auburn, White flashed this skill multiple times, starting with this play with theTigers in their own end zone:

(Click here)

White is able to assess the change in direction of the play and make an outstanding show of pursuit from the middle of the field to run Auburn’s QB out of bounds, mitigating what could have been a first down.In the following clip (from the same game), Auburn decides to run an end-around that fools almost the entire LSU defense:

(Click here)

White initially converges on the line of scrimmage to get in on the would-be tackle of the running back, realizes his and his teammates mistake, and sprints helter-skelter to the boundary. He uses that same athleticism to break down on a dime, size the slot receiver up, and make a great open-field tackle that saves a potential home run play for Auburn. When it comes to his ability to play all over the field and make drive-stalling plays throughout the course of the game, White is the cream of the crop in this Draft.

Coverage

White had responsibilities in coverage for both man and zone during his time at LSU and showed excellent ability at both, with the athletic fluidity and straight-line speed to handle the talent he’ll face at RB and TE in the NFL. The following clip shows White’s coverage in a zone front:

White is tasked to have a deep middle zone, almost like a Tampa 2 MLB with his heels on the first down marker keeping everything in front of him. The wide received breaks on a 5-yard dig with no one around him. White takes a reset step to flow straight to the ball, and regardless of the fact the receiver bobbles the catch White is right there for a tackle of no additional gain. Many linebackers find themselves lost in even zone coverage, focusing on the players rather than the assignment. White knows his drop back, surveys the offensive players around him, and puts himself in a situation to attack the pass as it is being thrown.

Here he is lined up on a shifting TE, something he will be tasked with regularly next year. He plays the route, a short-out, and once the TE breaks towards the sideline he uses his impeccable closing speed to narrow the distance as the ball is coming in. He doesn’t look for the ball, knowing that the angle of the pass/route combo will mean he could miss the tackle for a big gain. He wraps the TE up immediately and drops him behind the first down marker for the stop. These kinds of routes are going to be commonplace for his assignments next year, and if White is able to man-up to make plays on the sidelines then he will be able to expedite his transition to Sunday football. White graded out as the 4th overall coverage linebacker in college football last season (91.5 overall grade) for good reason, which leads me to believe he can continue to improve with an NFL coaching staff.

WEAKNESSES

As with any 21 year-old fresh out of college, White has some areas that need proper polishing and refinement if he is to be a star at the next level, which he will get in spades from an NFL coaching staff. His few weaknesses include his Block Shedding and Contact Balance.

Block Shedding

The thing about White’s ability to shed blocks while getting into traffic is simple: he shows flashes of being able to handle linemen but needs to improve his technique. He works to undercut blocks or swim over the top, but he can choose the wrong move to get through and be swallowed up by a pulling lineman in the process. Bursting through an open gap, he does show impressively stout ability in dropping his hips and exploding through the contact to set the ground against forward-momentum. At the same time, for him to be able to reset ground and still get the tackle at the next level, especially behind the line of scrimmage, he will have to improve his aggressiveness with his hands to stack and shed. Going up against NFL-caliber linemen week-to-week in the SEC has given him a taste of what it will be like on Sundays, and there is a lot of potential that he can round this part of his game out.

Contact Balance

When watching White’s tape, the first thing that stands out is just how fast he is. He is an aggressive pursuer of the football and has an urgency to his run defense. This can work against him, however, when he is attempting to go for the KO-hit and forgets to fully wrap up. That is not to say that in his pursuit across the field he is unable to wrap up, but at times his willingness to lay the wood on a running back without a good form tackle can allow a shiftier back to cut back on him. He tends to forget to square up before the point of contact when running downhill, which leads to a lack of consistency throughout a game. He is the classic violent finisher as a linebacker, which can lead to high contact like his game against Texas A&M below:

Although this was a controversial call and received a lot of press, it still shows his inconsistency to be technique-oriented when flying downfield. He will need to work on the ability to become more consistent in wrapping up and coming to balance against a higher class of ball-carriers, but with his athleticism and willingness to get his hands dirty Vic Fangio should be able to turn him into his new stud defensive QB.

BOTTOM LINE

Effective linebackers are the key component of the Fangio system, and elite athletes at the position make everything easier. Based off of the list of studs that Fangio has coached in his professional career, you can see the effectiveness of the entire defense when he can play through that star linebacker. Fangio uses linebackers as Swiss Army knives, which is why this position is so critical: they will blitz, cover running backs and tight-ends in man,and have zone priorities sideline-to-sideline, but they need to be able to shred anything that makes it to them. Having this caliber of player in the middle of Fangio’s defense is required to be able to keep up with high-profile offenses like the Chiefs and the Chargers.

On First Take and NFL Live this past Tuesday, White was told that he speaks like a quarterback, and watching his interviews it is apparent he is an extremely cerebral individual. His response to being posed the question of how it feels when he is drafted by a “bad team” and what that means to him, is that he believes that he can be a spark plug coming in to help revitalize a defense and compete to be the QB of a defense for a long time. He takes nothing for granted and his roots in a small-town background provide for a poise beyond his years.His humbleness is infectious: he attributes everything to his mom’s tough love and the commitment he has received from his coaches at every level for hissuccess. He stays off of social media and is not distracted by the media or outside noise. His hobbies include raising and riding horses. In an NFL increasingly plagued by diva personalities that make themselves bigger than the team, this is the kind of franchise-altering player you spend a Top 10 pick on to build your defense around. The maturity he shows off the field, his lunch-pail mentality and his dedication to earning his place in the NFL lead me to believe that he can be the face of a defense for the next 10-13 years.

And if you have read this entire write-up (thank you, by the way) and still doubt this being the right pick, do take a minute to see his full highlight tape from last season. It will leave you wishing the Eagles had a chance to plug him in the middle of Jim Schwartz’s scheme.

Poll

Do you approve of this pick?

80%

Yes

(193 votes)

19%

No

(47 votes)

240 votes total Vote Now

2019 BGN Mock Draft Order

1) Cardinals (Philliesandthebees): Kyler Murray

2) 49ers (SakPrescott): Nick Bosa

3) Jets (thealien2696): Quinnen Williams

4) Raiders (SisyphusNoMore): Josh Allen

5) Buccaneers (EAGLESBSU): Montez Sweat

6) Giants (ablesser88): Dwayne Haskins

7) Jaguars (20Safety_Hazards): Jawaan Taylor

8) Lions (89Tremaine): Ed Oliver

9) Bills (drc242): Jonah Williams

10) Broncos (ItownBallers22): Devin White

11) Bengals (Phoenix X Maximus):

12) Packers (Palaniappan K M)

13) Bengals (wildcatlh):

14) Falcons (Happy24):

15) Washington (roberticus0):

16) Panthers (Triumph McCloud):

17) Giants (KevinDont):

18) Vikings (Eagles701):

19) Titans (Big Schmoopie):

20) Steelers (J. Wil):

21) Seahawks (NickfoleonDynamite):

22) Ravens (GMinTraining):

23) Texans (EaglesRock94)

24) Raiders (SummersInVA):

25) Eagles (I Need a Username):

26) Colts (Nolo0oo):

27) Raiders (SLC Eagle):

28) Chargers (LBCeaglesFan!):

29) Chiefs (Boxer Madness):

30) Packers (Kephas):

31) Rams (Matthieuck):

32) Patriots (Zett_66):

Now it’s time for you to vote for who YOU think the Broncos should pick in the 2019 BGN Community Consensus Mock Draft.

Poll

Who should the Denver Broncos draft at No. 10 overall?

52%

Devin White

(98 votes)

21%

Drew Lock

(39 votes)

9%

T.J. Hockenson

(17 votes)

6%

Devin Bush

(12 votes)

3%

Garrett Bradbury

(7 votes)

6%

Andre Dillard

(12 votes)

185 votes total Vote Now

2019 BGN Community Consensus Mock Draft

1) Cardinals: Kyler Murray

2) 49ers: Nick Bosa

3) Jets: Quinnen Williams

4) Raiders: Josh Allen

5) Buccaneers: Montez Sweat

6) Giants: Dwayne Haskins

7) Jaguars: Jawaan Taylor

8) Lions: Ed Oliver

9) Bills: Jonah Williams

10) Broncos:

Source: https://www.bleedinggreennation.com/2019/4/5/18297422/nfl-mock-draft-2019-denver-broncos-bolster-defense-devin-white-lsu-linebacker-footballl-vic-fangio

[stormkarate19-blog]

NFL Mock Draft 2019: Denver Broncos bolster defense

The Broncos are in an interesting spot here. They are fresh off of a year that had some cause for optimism, yet left much to be desired. The Silver Lining: they add some impressive pieces (starting with 1st round pick Bradley Chubb) to a defense that was ranked 1 st and 10th in overall defensive DVOA the past two years (respectively), and wind up improving their overall defensive DVOA to 5th in the NFL. They also found some promising offensive weapons in rookies Cortland Sutton and Phillip Lindsay. Then the Not So Bright: They pay Case Keenum $36 million over two years to bring them over the hump after leading the Vikings to an NFC Championship berth (thanks for the memories Case #SuperBowlChampions), and he rewards them with an 18/15 TD/INT ratio only toget traded to the LolSkins for a swap of 6th and 7th round picks. All of this is happening while the Chiefs and Chargers take the leap to serious Championship contenders for theforeseeable future and the Raiders … well at least they have three 1 st round draft picks.

So let’s use those facts and our logic to address the elephant in the room: it’s got to be a quarterback at 10 right?? Well, unfortunately for this mock there are no trades, meaning that the Broncos cannot trade up for the top options this year in Murray or Haskins (then again, neither are 6’7 so who knows if John Elway would even consider them). They are left with options consisting of Drew Lock, Daniel Jones, and Ryan Finley. I honestly can’t say any of those guys move the needle as a top 10 pick, even in a shallow positional draft class such as this. Do the Broncos eschew the fact that none of these QBs are worth the 10th overall pick and just go with it? Do they make the same mistakes under Elway and draft players just because they are at this position of weakness? (see: Paxton Lynch).

I don’t think so, especially since Elway can use the Joe Flacco trade as his “kick it another year down the road” cop-out and wait for what looks on the surface to be a QB class as deep as any in recent memory in 2020. What we cannot discount is that Elway’s new HC Vic Fangio is a defensive guru. Akin to McVay being a “QB Whisperer”, Vic Fangio is his equal as a “LB Whisperer”. The Broncos just lost Brandon Marshall and are left with Todd Davis and Josey Jewell (sorry, WHO?!?!) to quarterback their defense.Everywhere that Fangio has coached in his professional career there has been a stud LB calling the shots in the middle of his defense, with the likes of Danny Trevathan, Roquan Smith, Patrick Willis, Ray Lewis, Navarro Bowman, Sam Mills, and Rickey Jackson. With that being said, let’s sprint to the podium and select the player that self-models his game after Patrick Willis as your newest Bronco – DEVIN WHITE (LB, LSU).

College Overview

College Career: 3 years at LSU, 2 year starter. 286 total tackles with 114 solo tackles, 28.5 tackles for loss, 8.5 sacks, 1 interception, 9 passes defended, 3fumble recoveries and 4 forced fumbles.

Freshman Season: SEC All-Freshman squad.

Sophomore Season: MVP award, First-Team All-SEC and Second-Team USA Today All-American.

Junior Season: First-Team All-SEC and Associated Press All-American, culminated his college career by winning the Butkus Award (Top Linebacker in the Country).

His talent speaks for itself. The man posted some video game stats with 256 total tackles (99 solo tackles), 25.5 tackles for loss, 7.5 sacks, 1 interception, 9 passes defended, 2 fumble recoveries and 3 forced fumbles in the last 2 years alone. When watching the tape, it feels like he was in on just about every tackle for LSUover that time period. You would be hard pressed to find a linebacker with that kind of production in college, let alone in their only 2 seasons as a starter. It speaks not only to the quality of his play but his leadership that he was team captain for both of these years, his true sophomore and junior seasons; a high accomplishment considering the talent on the LSU defense year in and year out.

On top of his college production, White showed up at the NFL Combine in Indianapolis:

Height - 6’0 Weight - 237lbs Wingspan - 32 1/8” Hands - 9 3/4”

40 Yard Dash - 4.42 20 Yard Shuttle - 4.17 Bench Press - 22 Bench Vertical - 39.5 Vert Broad Jump - 9.83’

*via MockDraftable

Ahh yes, the spider-graph. Catnip to BGN readers. It is a little skewed as his physical measurements may not jump off the page to you, but I believe that the conversation of “it is all about measurements in the NFL” is a little over-blown. Playmakers are going to get their shot. More specifically, a similar player that hails from his alma mater Deion Jones is not too far off from White’s (6’2,222lbs). I think it is safe to say Jones has over-exceeded the Falcons expectations early on in his career, and if White could replicate that production from the start of his own NFL career then it would be a slam-dunk pick. But looking at his sheer athleticism (4.42 40 with a 4.17 shuttle) and coupling thatwith his eye-popping college production, I think White has a chance to outshine his former teammate and bring the Broncos defense to even greater heights.Let’s get into the tape to find a little more out about the Broncos 2019 first rounder.

STRENGTHS

Devin White is as close to a complete linebacker as you are going to find in college. He is a physical freak with the football intelligence to match. White’s strengths fit best into the following categories: Processing, Pass Rush, Range and Coverage.

Processing

In today’s NFL, the most elite offenses have one thing in common: an effective balance of pass/run, with pressure on the quarterback alleviated by RPO. In the following clip,White shows his ability in zone to read and react to the quarterback faking the handoff to hit the short slant for a sizeable gain on first down.

That quick recovery step to reset his feet and make a pass deflection is something that White will have to do on a regular basis in an NFL scheme that often rotates between zone and man. In the following clip, White shows that same football intelligence in the run game:

While the rest of his team flows with the line, White stays home and watches the running back cut back to a large hole for what would have been a sizeable gain. He sets his feet, sees the RB cut, and takes the appropriate angle to finish with a great tackle for only a 2-yard gain. When he couples his athleticism with a high football intelligence and split-second reactions, he shows his true ability as a player that can take the air out of an offense on any drive.

Pass Rush/Attack the Line

White has the ability to be a difference maker in the pass rush as well. I should clarify, by pass rush I mean his ability to shoot the gap and attack the line. He is as effective against the running game as the passing game, where either situation would reward a player that can target their gap and shoot through it before a lineman is able to fill. In the following clip, White’s athleticism and timing are on display against a stout Auburn front:

(Click here)

While he does not make the tackle here, he is able to generate enough havoc that forces the running back to disrupt his momentum with a side-step and allow his fellow defenders to get into the backfield with Auburn’s heels on their own goal line. He shows this same kind of timing and burst in the passing game as well:

Although he does not finish the sack, his ability to get through a gap untouched on a delayed blitz, giving the quarterback 2 seconds to find his receiver is eye popping each time you see this highlight (and yes, it happens regularly with White). His skill set in finding the right gap in the split-second before the ball is snapped is instinctual and that sets the difference between an effective linebacker and a defense-changing player.

Range

White’s draft-day chops are most likely to start and end with his unbelievable ability to play the entire field. Not many defenders can truly consider themselves “sideline-to-sideline”, but White has proven that ability time and time again in college. In their game against Auburn, White flashed this skill multiple times, starting with this play with theTigers in their own end zone:

(Click here)

White is able to assess the change in direction of the play and make an outstanding show of pursuit from the middle of the field to run Auburn’s QB out of bounds, mitigating what could have been a first down.In the following clip (from the same game), Auburn decides to run an end-around that fools almost the entire LSU defense:

(Click here)

White initially converges on the line of scrimmage to get in on the would-be tackle of the running back, realizes his and his teammates mistake, and sprints helter-skelter to the boundary. He uses that same athleticism to break down on a dime, size the slot receiver up, and make a great open-field tackle that saves a potential home run play for Auburn. When it comes to his ability to play all over the field and make drive-stalling plays throughout the course of the game, White is the cream of the crop in this Draft.

Coverage

White had responsibilities in coverage for both man and zone during his time at LSU and showed excellent ability at both, with the athletic fluidity and straight-line speed to handle the talent he’ll face at RB and TE in the NFL. The following clip shows White’s coverage in a zone front:

White is tasked to have a deep middle zone, almost like a Tampa 2 MLB with his heels on the first down marker keeping everything in front of him. The wide received breaks on a 5-yard dig with no one around him. White takes a reset step to flow straight to the ball, and regardless of the fact the receiver bobbles the catch White is right there for a tackle of no additional gain. Many linebackers find themselves lost in even zone coverage, focusing on the players rather than the assignment. White knows his drop back, surveys the offensive players around him, and puts himself in a situation to attack the pass as it is being thrown.

Here he is lined up on a shifting TE, something he will be tasked with regularly next year. He plays the route, a short-out, and once the TE breaks towards the sideline he uses his impeccable closing speed to narrow the distance as the ball is coming in. He doesn’t look for the ball, knowing that the angle of the pass/route combo will mean he could miss the tackle for a big gain. He wraps the TE up immediately and drops him behind the first down marker for the stop. These kinds of routes are going to be commonplace for his assignments next year, and if White is able to man-up to make plays on the sidelines then he will be able to expedite his transition to Sunday football. White graded out as the 4th overall coverage linebacker in college football last season (91.5 overall grade) for good reason, which leads me to believe he can continue to improve with an NFL coaching staff.

WEAKNESSES

As with any 21 year-old fresh out of college, White has some areas that need proper polishing and refinement if he is to be a star at the next level, which he will get in spades from an NFL coaching staff. His few weaknesses include his Block Shedding and Contact Balance.

Block Shedding

The thing about White’s ability to shed blocks while getting into traffic is simple: he shows flashes of being able to handle linemen but needs to improve his technique. He works to undercut blocks or swim over the top, but he can choose the wrong move to get through and be swallowed up by a pulling lineman in the process. Bursting through an open gap, he does show impressively stout ability in dropping his hips and exploding through the contact to set the ground against forward-momentum. At the same time, for him to be able to reset ground and still get the tackle at the next level, especially behind the line of scrimmage, he will have to improve his aggressiveness with his hands to stack and shed. Going up against NFL-caliber linemen week-to-week in the SEC has given him a taste of what it will be like on Sundays, and there is a lot of potential that he can round this part of his game out.

Contact Balance

When watching White’s tape, the first thing that stands out is just how fast he is. He is an aggressive pursuer of the football and has an urgency to his run defense. This can work against him, however, when he is attempting to go for the KO-hit and forgets to fully wrap up. That is not to say that in his pursuit across the field he is unable to wrap up, but at times his willingness to lay the wood on a running back without a good form tackle can allow a shiftier back to cut back on him. He tends to forget to square up before the point of contact when running downhill, which leads to a lack of consistency throughout a game. He is the classic violent finisher as a linebacker, which can lead to high contact like his game against Texas A&M below:

Although this was a controversial call and received a lot of press, it still shows his inconsistency to be technique-oriented when flying downfield. He will need to work on the ability to become more consistent in wrapping up and coming to balance against a higher class of ball-carriers, but with his athleticism and willingness to get his hands dirty Vic Fangio should be able to turn him into his new stud defensive QB.

BOTTOM LINE

Effective linebackers are the key component of the Fangio system, and elite athletes at the position make everything easier. Based off of the list of studs that Fangio has coached in his professional career, you can see the effectiveness of the entire defense when he can play through that star linebacker. Fangio uses linebackers as Swiss Army knives, which is why this position is so critical: they will blitz, cover running backs and tight-ends in man,and have zone priorities sideline-to-sideline, but they need to be able to shred anything that makes it to them. Having this caliber of player in the middle of Fangio’s defense is required to be able to keep up with high-profile offenses like the Chiefs and the Chargers.

On First Take and NFL Live this past Tuesday, White was told that he speaks like a quarterback, and watching his interviews it is apparent he is an extremely cerebral individual. His response to being posed the question of how it feels when he is drafted by a “bad team” and what that means to him, is that he believes that he can be a spark plug coming in to help revitalize a defense and compete to be the QB of a defense for a long time. He takes nothing for granted and his roots in a small-town background provide for a poise beyond his years.His humbleness is infectious: he attributes everything to his mom’s tough love and the commitment he has received from his coaches at every level for hissuccess. He stays off of social media and is not distracted by the media or outside noise. His hobbies include raising and riding horses. In an NFL increasingly plagued by diva personalities that make themselves bigger than the team, this is the kind of franchise-altering player you spend a Top 10 pick on to build your defense around. The maturity he shows off the field, his lunch-pail mentality and his dedication to earning his place in the NFL lead me to believe that he can be the face of a defense for the next 10-13 years.

And if you have read this entire write-up (thank you, by the way) and still doubt this being the right pick, do take a minute to see his full highlight tape from last season. It will leave you wishing the Eagles had a chance to plug him in the middle of Jim Schwartz’s scheme.

Poll

Do you approve of this pick?

80%

Yes

(193 votes)

19%

No

(47 votes)

240 votes total Vote Now

2019 BGN Mock Draft Order

1) Cardinals (Philliesandthebees): Kyler Murray

2) 49ers (SakPrescott): Nick Bosa

3) Jets (thealien2696): Quinnen Williams

4) Raiders (SisyphusNoMore): Josh Allen

5) Buccaneers (EAGLESBSU): Montez Sweat

6) Giants (ablesser88): Dwayne Haskins

7) Jaguars (20Safety_Hazards): Jawaan Taylor

8) Lions (89Tremaine): Ed Oliver

9) Bills (drc242): Jonah Williams

10) Broncos (ItownBallers22): Devin White

11) Bengals (Phoenix X Maximus):

12) Packers (Palaniappan K M)

13) Bengals (wildcatlh):

14) Falcons (Happy24):

15) Washington (roberticus0):

16) Panthers (Triumph McCloud):

17) Giants (KevinDont):

18) Vikings (Eagles701):

19) Titans (Big Schmoopie):

20) Steelers (J. Wil):

21) Seahawks (NickfoleonDynamite):

22) Ravens (GMinTraining):

23) Texans (EaglesRock94)

24) Raiders (SummersInVA):

25) Eagles (I Need a Username):

26) Colts (Nolo0oo):

27) Raiders (SLC Eagle):

28) Chargers (LBCeaglesFan!):

29) Chiefs (Boxer Madness):

30) Packers (Kephas):

31) Rams (Matthieuck):

32) Patriots (Zett_66):

Now it’s time for you to vote for who YOU think the Broncos should pick in the 2019 BGN Community Consensus Mock Draft.

Poll

Who should the Denver Broncos draft at No. 10 overall?

52%

Devin White

(98 votes)

21%

Drew Lock

(39 votes)

9%

T.J. Hockenson

(17 votes)

6%

Devin Bush

(12 votes)

3%

Garrett Bradbury

(7 votes)

6%

Andre Dillard

(12 votes)

185 votes total Vote Now

2019 BGN Community Consensus Mock Draft

1) Cardinals: Kyler Murray

2) 49ers: Nick Bosa

3) Jets: Quinnen Williams

4) Raiders: Josh Allen

5) Buccaneers: Montez Sweat

6) Giants: Dwayne Haskins

7) Jaguars: Jawaan Taylor

8) Lions: Ed Oliver

9) Bills: Jonah Williams

10) Broncos:

Source: https://www.bleedinggreennation.com/2019/4/5/18297422/nfl-mock-draft-2019-denver-broncos-bolster-defense-devin-white-lsu-linebacker-footballl-vic-fangio

[ultrasfcb-blog]

Jolyon Palmer column: Hamilton v Raikkonen and F1

Jolyon Palmer column: Hamilton v Raikkonen and F1

Jolyon Palmer column: Hamilton v Raikkonen and F1

Former F1 driver Jolyon Palmer, who left Renault during the 2017 season, has joined the BBC team to offer insight and analysis from the point of view of the competitors.

The clash between Kimi Raikkonen and Lewis Hamilton at Sunday’s British Grand Prix caused a great deal of controversy – but the Mercedes driver effectively lost the race at the start, not three corners later.

Hamilton should have won. He had the pace in clear air, he had the degradation of the tyres under control – more so than anybody else – and, crucially, he had taken pole position with a brilliant lap on Saturday.

But a woeful getaway, with too much wheel spin off the line, dropped Hamilton to third immediately, behind the Ferrari of eventual winner Sebastian Vettel and the other Mercedes of Valtteri Bottas.

In a one-stop race, with Ferrari and Mercedes so evenly matched, it would have been tough for Hamilton to recover to beat Vettel, even before the Raikkonen incident. That is especially true with no apparent team orders to allow him to pass Bottas as well.

The only proviso is that we will never know what would have happened under the safety car in that situation.

Lewis Hamilton drove superbly to recover from last place after a first-lap collision with Kimi Raikkonen, to finish second

‘A bit more caution from Hamilton might have been better’

In my view, Hamilton could have been a bit safer with Raikkonen when the Ferrari driver attacked him into Turn Three on the opening lap, where his race completely turned.

They were side by side into the corner, Raikkonen on the inside. Hamilton gave him space but took a bit of a risk because he didn’t allow Raikkonen any margin for error. As Raikkonen locked up, it was clear he was trying to avoid an accident, but he ended up running into Hamilton’s Mercedes.

If Hamilton had gone slightly wider around the corner he would then still have had the inside for Turn Four and surely kept the place. They might have still clashed but the risk would have been much reduced, as Raikkonen would have had more space to lock up into on his outside.

There’s no doubt that Hamilton is not to blame for the incident, and the stewards laid it firmly on Raikkonen. But thinking about the championship – and even the race itself – a bit more caution from Hamilton might have been a better option. After all, he had the pace to recover.

Having said that, hindsight is always a wonderful thing and the fact it was Hamilton’s home race and he got off to a bad start was probably playing on his mind as well. It’s only an issue because Raikkonen went in deep trying to gain the position and hit him.

Raikkonen was penalised for it, and also took responsibility for it after the race, which I thought was very decent of him, as it’s rare to see a driver be so mature in the heat of the moment.

Both men had brilliant drives after the incident. Raikkonen showed a rare moment of passion over the radio, clearly frustrated about being stuck behind the slower Red Bulls. He then had fantastic pace to recover to a podium after a brilliant wheel-to-wheel dice with Max Verstappen.

Vettel’s victory was his fourth of the season, one more than Hamilton, and he is now eight points clear in the Championship race

Hamilton, on the other hand, had much more to do. Dropping to the back, he put on one of his best drives for a long time to recover to second, finishing only just behind Vettel.

After the race, Hamilton and Mercedes were both immensely frustrated. Part of that was down to it being the second time in three races that one of their drivers had been put to the back after an over-zealous Ferrari overtaking attempt on the first lap.

They dropped unsubtle hints Ferrari might have done it deliberately. Of course, this is unfounded. And once the dust had settled on Sunday, Mercedes F1 boss Toto Wolff appreciated that – as did Hamilton.

Raikkonen is not a dirty driver at all, and he certainly doesn’t owe Ferrari and Vettel any help for the remainder of the year as he’s almost certain to be replaced by Sauber’s Charles Leclerc for 2019.

On top of this, an accident at the first corner would usually hobble both parties, as it did in France two weeks ago, when both Vettel and Bottas ended up at the back and were sentenced to recovery drives.

Was Raikkonen’s penalty right?

It is fair enough to deem Raikkonen at fault for the incident. But I just can’t get my head around the penalty given to him – 10 seconds, when in my view Vettel’s clash with Bottas in France was slightly worse. Vettel came from further back in a faster corner, and he only got a five-second penalty for that.

There’s no consistency and that’s the most frustrating thing as a driver. It is much like in football, where penalty decisions aren’t black and white.

Tunisia rugby-tackling Harry Kane to the ground during England’s World Cup opener was allowed, but when Panama tried to do the same thing, it was immediately a penalty. How can players know where they stand when it’s like that?

I had the same frustration last year. I was forced off the track by Fernando Alonso in Spa. He received no penalty. Fine. But what irked me was that in the previous race, Kevin Magnussen got a five-second penalty for doing exactly the same to Nico Hulkenberg.

‘I had the same frustration last year. I was forced off the track by Fernando Alonso in Spa. He received no penalty.’

It’s the consistency that is so frustrating. The penalty system should be more black and white. In my opinion – and that of many drivers – the judgements made in specific incidents are too variable.

If Magnussen had pushed me off in Spa that time and Alonso had pushed Hulkenberg off in Budapest, I bet Magnussen would still be punished and Alonso would still get away with it. Each case should be judged on its individual merits rather than who is involved or the consequences.

Does F1 need penalties?

The wider question is whether F1 needs penalties at all for incidents such as these.

People love close, hard racing. It’s what everybody watches the sport for. They love safety cars, too. And this year has really highlighted that a safety car can turn a boring race into a thriller, with a strategy roll of the dice and the tightening up of the field.

Yes, a collision like the one on Sunday is unfair on Hamilton, and the French clash was unfair on Bottas. But sometimes that’s racing.

There wasn’t any malice in the mistakes made by either Raikkonen or Vettel. They were racing hard for position and got it slightly wrong.

It was the same when Romain Grosjean crashed with Carlos Sainz at Copse on Sunday. It was a much faster corner, and a much bigger accident. But the decision to judge it a racing incident was the right verdict, even though it was technically Grosjean’s moment of oversteer that meant he drifted into a vulnerable Sainz.

Fundamentally, what is the difference between that and the Raikkonen and Vettel clashes? The driver on the inside was technically left enough room to make it around the corner but a small error, or excess speed, meant they ran wider and hit the car on the outside.

How does a super expensive F1 steering wheel work?

The collision produced a thrilling race at Silverstone and some more entertainment in France as well. Should people be complaining about it?

Maybe, in the same way as a footballer isn’t sent off any more for a “genuine attempt to play the ball”, a driver shouldn’t be penalised for a genuine attempt to overtake or defend that leads to a mistake and contact.

I still fully endorse a penalty for any move that was dangerous or cynical. The equivalent of a red card in football. Indeed, perhaps these penalties could be harder.

For example, if a driver was to force another driver off the road, particularly in a straight line, they could be dealt with more strictly as this is an obvious and deliberate attempt at unfair driving. It could be the same for clearly moving twice in defence, as Verstappen has been guilty of a number of times, and which is clearly outlawed in the rules.

And of course, penalties should be used for incidents such as pit-lane speeding or not getting out of the way of blue flags. In these instances, things are black and white.

In days of old, penalties weren’t handed out at all for collisions during legitimate racing situations. There was high drama, and it was all good for the sport.

It’s a difficult call because Mercedes, Hamilton and their fans will feel aggrieved, particularly with the importance of this race for the Briton. But if the shoe is on the other foot, they will happily take it at the next race.

BBC Sport – Formula 1 ultras_FC_Barcelona

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