it wasn't just about football for LA

After Monday Night's game, Jared Goff and Andrew Whitworth met with the families of victims of the Thousand Oaks, CA shooting earlier this month. pic.twitter.com/wMhmJXCs97

— ESPN (@espn) November 20, 2018

Two weeks that could have knocked the Rams off track

Lindsey Thiry

http://www.espn.com/blog/los-angeles-rams/post/_/id/39357/two-weeks-that-could-have-knocked-the-rams-off-track

LOS ANGELES — Music blared, and players angled their phones to record the scene on social media as laughter and cheers filled the Los Angeles Rams’ locker room at the L.A. Memorial Coliseum.

It was a rare glimpse at a postgame celebration, a display typically unseen by organization outsiders. But after the Rams defeated the Kansas City Chiefs 54-51 in one of the most anticipated Monday Night Football matchups in NFL history, the Rams felt too exuberant to calm down, even as reporters filed in.

“It was a whirlwind,” Rams coach Sean McVay said after the highest-scoring game in Monday Night Football history.

For an organization that endured a grueling series of circumstances over the past two weeks, McVay’s words might have been an understatement.

Last night was special, last night was for Los Angeles.#LATogether pic.twitter.com/M8PV1cp7n4

— Los Angeles Rams (@RamsNFL) November 20, 2018

In a span of 12 days, the Rams grieved with the Thousand Oaks community after a shooting at Borderline Bar and Grill claimed 12 lives. Then at least 100 employees in the organization were among more than 250,000 people across Ventura and Los Angeles counties who were ordered to evacuate their homes because of wildfires that scorched 96,949 acres.

Even after the team arrived in Colorado Springs, Colorado, the previous Monday, where they had long planned to train at altitude in preparation for their showdown against the Chiefs in Mexico, the series of unexpected events continued. The field at Estadio Azteca in Mexico City was not suitable for play, the NFL determined, and the game was moved to L.A.

The Rams remained in Colorado Springs for the week, a place to take refuge from the fires back home, to bond as a team and to prepare for a matchup of two 9-1 teams.

“The players did an outstanding job of handling what seems like two weeks that was about two years’ worth of things that they had to go through,” McVay said Tuesday, 17 hours after the game ended and minutes before he said he would attempt to finally get some sleep. “All they did was just handle it like pros.”

“Sean talks all the time about two things: being connected and being at your best when your best is required,” Rams COO Kevin Demoff said after the game. “I think for the entire organization, for the last two weeks, that explains everything.”

On Nov. 8, 12 victims lost their lives at Borderline, just about four miles from the team’s practice facility and seven miles from their business headquarters. McVay held a team meeting to discuss the tragedy, and veteran left tackle Andrew Whitworth took the floor to implore teammates to embrace the community in a time of need.

But by the afternoon, focus began to shift. The community was attempting to make sense of an otherwise inexplicable tragedy when smoke began to fill the air miles from where the team practiced, as strong winds fueled fires that had sparked in the area.

Hours later, evacuations began. Right tackle Rob Havenstein, his wife, Meaghan, and their 7-week-old daughter returned to the practice facility after they were evacuated from their home. They soon found a hotel, only to discover they’d have to evacuate it, too.

The Havensteins’ experience was not unique. By the early morning hours on Nov. 9, the coach’s phone began to buzz, as a group-text message chain alerted McVay that many members of his staff had been forced to leave their homes.

“The fire stuff is scary,” Marcus Peters said. “Personally, I seen it from my backyard in Thousand Oaks, so my family got out. … Things like that is just sad to see.”

McVay canceled the team’s Friday practice ahead of its NFC West showdown with the Seattle Seahawks. At that point, 45 people in the organization, including 20 players and coaches, had been evacuated from their homes.

On Nov. 10, the day before the Rams were to play the Seahawks, a team meeting was held at their downtown L.A. hotel, where several players and their families had stayed an extra night. Later that morning, a final practice was held on USC’s campus.

By the time Sunday’s game arrived, it seemed plausible if not acceptable that if the Rams were to lose a second game this season, the circumstances would justify it. Even as warm-ups took place, many in the organization — now up to 100 evacuated — received status updates on their homes via texts or emails, whether their houses survived the fires or were among the 1,452 structures that burned.

The Rams defeated the Seahawks after they made a defensive stand on the final drive.

Heart broken this morning! I’m just sorry to those affected. I don’t have words that I feel can help. But I promise to find a way to help support our community through this tragedy!
🙏🏼!

— Andrew Whitworth (@awhitworth77) November 8, 2018

The game served merely as momentary distraction from the real-life issues that engulfed the L.A. area. Few are likely to remember that Sunday matchup. Many will likely never forget that Whitworth donated his game check, nearly $60,000, to the families of the Borderline victims.

“There’s more for us to do as people,” Whitworth said. “We have to pull together.”

The following day, the Rams boarded a plane to Colorado Springs, where they’d stay at the Broadmoor Resort to train at altitude for the fast-paced Chiefs. But as they departed L.A., reports began to surface that the field at Estadio Azteca was unsuitable for play. And sure enough, a day later the NFL announced that the game would not be played in Mexico City. It instead would move to the L.A. Memorial Coliseum.

“I was kind of skeptical of playing in the stadium just after seeing a lot of the pictures that came out and just seeing how bad the field was,” defensive tackle Michael Brockers said. “I think a lot of the elder players, the players that were important to this team, stepped up and said that they didn’t want to play or weren’t going to play. So appreciate that.”

McVay determined, despite the game returning to sea level, that the Rams would remain in Colorado Springs for the week. After all, owner Stan Kroenke had chartered a second plane to deliver family members, and the resort became a refuge from the uncertain situation back home.

“It’s been a little bit wild for sure,” Jared Goff said from the Broadmoor Resort. “But with that being said, there’s a lot more people dealing with a lot worse than what we’re dealing with right now. We’re the lucky ones.”

While in Colorado Springs, the Rams attended a Denver Nuggets game, enjoyed their weekly day off and turned to preparing for the Chiefs. A hotel ball room was converted into a make-shift football field, with tape on the floor to outline a football field for walk-throughs, and the players rode buses to and from Air Force Academy for two practices.

“It’s been nuts,” said left guard Rodger Saffold, who added that he had never experienced anything quite like the past two weeks in his nine-year career. “It’s really been a roller coaster.”

Keeping in theme, the Rams’ flight home Saturday night was delayed as an ice storm rolled across southern Colorado. Their flight left late, and players and staff members arrived home in the early-morning hours on Sunday.

By Monday, normalcy set in as prime time approached. For all the inconveniences of the previous two weeks, the Rams proved to be fortunate. All found themselves in good health. Their homes remained standing, and they were able to provide strength — and an escape — that many in the greater L.A. area sought.

Before kickoff against the Chiefs, the team honored the families of the Borderline victims and offered their gratitude to first responders who saved so many homes.

“You sometimes realize that things are bigger than yourself,” Whitworth said after the game. “This has been one of those moments.”

It was a trying two weeks. It could have broken a city or provided an endless list of excuses for a team. Instead, the Rams stayed together, entrenched themselves in the community and proved that nothing can knock them off track as they continue their approach to a date in February.

“We all understand each other,” Todd Gurley said. “We all are working toward one goal.”

In a City Hurting After Tragedy, Rams-Chiefs Brought Something Extraordinary

MICHAEL MCKNIGHT

https://www.si.com/nfl/2018/11/20/rams-chiefs-monday-night-football-los-angeles-wildfires-shooting

LOS ANGELES — The faint wisp of smoke that still hovered over Malibu, 30 miles from the Los Angeles Coliseum, provided the most obvious clue that Monday night’s Rams-Chiefs game would be different. The dozens of first responders hanging around the sideline before kickoff offered another hint. The bags under their eyes presented a third. Citizens of this city, especially its northwest corner, had been exhausted by the events of the previous twelve days. What they wanted—what everyone in L.A. needed—was for Monday night to feel normal.

Instead, they got something extraordinary.

One hundred and five combined points. More than 1,000 yards of offense. Thirteen total touchdowns. Most importantly, a win for the home team, against a worthy opponent—a victory marked, fittingly, by resilience.

It was the first time that two teams had scored 50 points each in an NFL game. But this and all of the other eye-popping football stats were meaningless compared to the most important numbers of the day. Against overwhelming odds, the Woolsey fire had been stopped short of burning 100,000 acres—the damage stood at 96,949 at day’s end—and was 94% contained. A week earlier, it had blackened 91,572 acres with only 20% containment. That comeback had been made possible by people like Ken Roberts.

A captain in the Ventura County Fire Dept., Roberts worked two straight days, with no sleep, in the aftermath of the Borderline Bar & Grill shooting, which claimed twelve lives on Nov. 7. When his work there was done, Roberts went straight to the front lines of the fires that had been sparked the day after the shooting. “Today was the first day I’ve been home,” he said just prior to Monday night’s kickoff. “I had just enough time to take a shower and fight traffic to get here.”

The aura inside the Coliseum on Monday night was not one of mourning. Not even during the national anthem, which was sung by the choir from Cal Lutheran University—site of the Rams’ practice facility, and alma mater of the late Justin Meek, who had been gunned down at Borderline and at one point sung bass in that choir.

What the Coliseum felt like was relief. The 95-year-old building felt bright and shiny and full of life—the Rams’ canary yellow ‘Color Rush’ uniforms didn’t hurt—offering a haven from the wanton death and destruction of the fortnight just passed.

The Rams had given discounted tickets to first responders earlier this season, Captain Stan Ziegler of the Ventura County Fire Dept., pointed out, “but tonight feels different.” And not just because first responders got into the Chiefs game for free. “We’re not used to having the spotlight on us,” Ziegler explained. “In fact, most of us run from attention. We’re just thankful for this chance to relax and enjoy an evening, away from the stress of fighting fire and helping evacuate people.”

Before the national anthem, Ziegler and Roberts unfurled a massive American flag with hundreds other first responders, including Michael Williams of Ventura County Fire Station #36. Williams had been off duty when he first spotted the Woolsey Fire. After quickly calculating its path, he told his neighbors in Oak Park to evacuate. Then Williams watched his own home, where he lives with his wife and children, vanish into ash. He hardly paused, continuing to fight the wind-driven blaze that threatened his neighbors’ houses. He saved most of them.

Monday night, Williams’s buddies at Firehouse 36 were gathered around the TV watching the Rams and Chiefs go at it. Things were “pretty much back to normal” as far the fires were concerned, said chief David Schwab, lounging before the big screen. “Local residents have been coming by asking for sandbags. Soil erosion is the main concern at this point.” The game was tied at 23 when Schwab and his team watched Aaron Donald of the Rams execute his second strip-sack of the game. Eight plays later, Schwab celebrated when Rams quarterback Jared Goff—the son of a firefighter, and, like Schwab, a Cal-Berkeley product—scrambled into the end zone and finger-rolled the ball over the crossbar to give L.A. a 30–23 lead.

The efforts of firefighters like Schwab had been aided these last couple of days by a nighttime mist like the one that lowered itself into the Coliseum as Monday’s game wore on. This vapor, punctured by the 95 combined spirals thrown by Goff and Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes, mixed with the Coliseum’s lights to create a movie-set feel. The most suspenseful game of the NFL season finally loosed its grip on its audience when Rams safety Lamarcus Joyner intercepted a wobbly pass from Mahomes with twenty seconds left, to seal the 54–51 win. Rams general manager Les Snead approached head coach Sean McVay and said, “Have you ever been through one like that?” knowing full well the answer.

The victors’ locker room smelled like torn grass and hours-old sweat. Happy profanity abounded. Marcus Peters—Rams cornerback, team deejay, and former Kansas City Chief—cued up YG on the sound system.

“We felt like we had to do for this for the community,” guard Rodger Saffold said over the music, “because of the way they’ve stuck together. This win is a little more special than all the other ones.” The nine-year veteran’s face brightened with a sudden realization. “I’ve never been 10-1 in my life!”

It would be disingenuous to report that the home crowd had cheered louder than usual for the Rams on Monday night. For the first time this season, though, the volume of the home team’s fans was not exceeded by the visiting team’s supporters. Such is the plight of playing in a metropolis full of transplants. On Monday night, though, it was hard not to be an L.A. fan.

Ventura County Sheriff Sergeant Ron Helus had been a fan of Notre Dame football before he was killed at the Borderline Bar & Grill two Wednesdays ago. Moments before Helus entered the nightspot to try and put a stop to the shooting, he called his wife, Karen, and according to the Los Angeles Times, he told her, “I gotta go handle a call. I love you. I’ll talk to you later.”

Karen Helus and Jordan Helus, the 24-year-old son she raised with Ron, lit the Coliseum’s torch before Monday night’s game, just as someone on the sideline made the mistake of calling Ken Roberts—the firefighter who had worked, without sleep, at the scene of the Borderline incident, before moving on to the fires—a hero.

Roberts’s smile faded. On a night full of courageous deeds—the athletic kind, whose stakes are comparatively small—Roberts wanted to make sure that the H-word wouldn’t be misused.

“No,” he said firmly. “Ron Helus was a hero.”