12

January 18, 2015

Indianapolis sports columnist Bob Kravitz squinted wearily through the frames of his prescription eyeglasses and ran his fingers through the gray whiskers that covered his chin. Something's weird, he thought to himself.2 It had indeed been a strange game for fans of the Indianapolis Colts to watch thus far. On the drenched Gillette Stadium turf, the Colts, playing behind third-year quarterback Andrew Luck, were committing countless mistakes, and their opponent, the New England Patriots, had made them pay dearly. Early on, Colts punt returner Josh Cribbs mishandled a kick that hit him flush on his face mask before the football tumbled to the field, where it was scooped up and recovered by Patriots linebacker Darius Fleming.

New England's offense then took over. It was the second possession of the game for Patriots quarterback Tom Brady, and he fed the ball to running back LeGarrette Blount, who chewed up yard after yard before stampeding into the end zone for the first score of the AFC championship game. Seemingly unimpressed with his team's fast start, head coach Bill Belichick brooded on the sideline, his trademark navy blue hoodie surprisingly dry considering the weather.

That night, the temperature hovered just above freezing, bringing with it dense fog and a cold rain, instead of the light snow that had fallen in Foxborough, Massachusetts, during previous midwinter matchups between these storied rivals. But much had changed within the Colts organization since those epic and unforgettable snow bowls. Gone was legendary quarterback Peyton Manning, the proverbial face of the franchise and poster boy for the scorn of Patriots fans from Caribou, Maine, to Cumberland, Rhode Island. Manning had been vanquished and replaced by the first pick in the 2012 NFL draft, Andrew Luck, who had since broken Manning's franchise record for passing yards in a single season and had most recently beaten the Manning-led Denver Broncos in the divisional round of the playoffs. The outward identity of the Colts had also changed. They were no longer considered, as the Patriots were, perennial conference favorites destined to wreak havoc throughout the AFC. The Colts were now playing the role of the underdog behind a talented and modestly likable quarterback. Without Peyton Manning behind center, most Patriots fans no longer recoiled at the mere sight of the horseshoe-bedecked helmets. The intensity and excitement over the rivalry had waned in New England. But that sentiment was not shared by those toiling inside the Indiana Farm Bureau Football Center, the Indianapolis headquarters of the Colts.

The team had been taught to despise the Patriots. This was a deeper hatred than is normally found among business competitors. This was loathing on the level of rival nation-states with opposing ideologies. Colts owner Jim Irsay, the silver-haired, goateed man-child who had inherited the team from his father, Robert, viewed the Patriots the way Ronald Reagan once regarded the Soviet Union: they simply were not to be trusted. Irsay himself, however, had his own problems. In 2014, he had been arrested for drunk driving and felony drug possession, which probably didn't ease his decade-old grudge against the Patriots. The bad blood went all the way back to a regular-season showdown in 2003, when the Colts accused Patriots linebacker Willie McGinest of faking an injury during a critical fourth-quarter play to stop the clock, the Patriots eventually going on to pull out the victory in typical Tom Brady fashion. Irsay's suspicions about the deceptive culture of the Patriots, however, were proven correct in 2007, when Coach Belichick was caught videotaping play calls and signals of opposing coaches in a scandal that would come to be known as Spygate.

Bob Kravitz looked at the scoreboard late in the second quarter of the AFC championship game and saw that the Colts were down ten points to the Patriots. The score was 17–7, but the game did not appear that competitive. New England had complete control over Indianapolis, the Colts weren't exactly playing perfect football, and no sports reporter, let alone Kravitz, had any reason to believe that the Patriots were practicing any illegal sleight of hand. But as the halftime whistle blew, Kravitz noticed Colts general manager Ryan Grigson leave his seat in the press box, walk over to the team's designated PR spot, and reach for the phone. Grigson began talking excitedly to someone on the other end of the line. Kravitz, however, could not imagine what the conversation was about. The columnist simply rubbed his chin and thought the exchange was, in his words, "weird."

Kravitz watched the Patriots increase their dominance over the Colts in the second half. Through a driving rain, Tom Brady drove the offense down the field early in the third quarter and lobbed a pass to hulking left tackle Nate Solder, who steamrolled into the end zone, where he was flanked by the other beefy offensive linemen in raucous celebration. As sometimes seems to be the case for Brady, the game was proving to be easy.

Less than seven minutes later, he struck again, this time it was a touchdown pass to his all-world tight end Rob Gronkowski. With the extra point, the score was now 31–7. Coach Belichick and Patriots offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels could have taken their foot off the gas pedal at this point, but it wasn't their style. As the New England defense and its mercenary leader, cornerback Darrelle Revis, continued to confuse Andrew Luck and keep the Colts out of the end zone, the Patriots offense kept hammering Indianapolis through the air and on the ground. LeGarrette Blount added two more touchdowns in the rout. The final score was 45–7, and with the win, the Patriots secured their sixth trip to the Super Bowl under Coach Belichick. Tom Brady completed twenty-three of thirty-five passes for a total of 226 yards, while Luck finished with just twelve completions and two interceptions. Soon the rain in Foxborough gave way to a shower of red, white, and blue confetti as players donned championship baseball caps and shirts, dancing in jubilation while the Lamar Hunt Trophy was handed to team owner Robert Kraft.

"You did your job," Kraft told the sold-out crowd. "Now we must go to Arizona and do our job."

CBS sports anchor Jim Nantz then pulled in a grinning Bill Belichick, who once again echoed that season's memorable mantra. "I only have one thing to say. We're on to Seattle!"

Finally, the microphone was presented to Brady, the one man every fan was waiting to hear from. Nantz reminded Brady and the frenzied crowd that he would be setting a new record, becoming the first quarterback to play in six Super Bowls. Number 12, wearing glare-deflective eye black, his wet hair matted, did his best to deflect attention from his personal accomplishment and praised his fellow players.

"My teammates…I couldn't be more proud of them," he said. "We put a lot of work in this year, worked our tails off to get to this point…we've got one more to go."

Hoisting the Hunt Trophy and flashing the smile that had graced the cover of countless major sports and lifestyle magazines in America, Brady then addressed the fans. "I know we've had some ups and downs this year, but right now we're up, baby, and we're gonna try to stay up for one more game."

The Patriots had approached each game that season with a similar mentality. After suffering a humiliating defeat to the Kansas City Chiefs in week four, a loss that had both team beat writers and chest-beating fans finally questioning whether the team and its legendary quarterback were now approaching a steady decline, Bill Belichick had refused to take the bait. When asked about the performance of his thirty-seven-year-old quarterback during a press conference after the game, the coach quickly cut off the reporter. "We're on to Cincinnati," Belichick barked. "It's not about the past. It's not about the future. We're preparing for Cincinnati." The team bounced back against the Bengals the following week and soon regained control of the conference before marching through the playoffs. In other words, there would be no more talk about the Colts after this night. The team's sole focus would turn to the Seattle Seahawks, the defending NFL champions. The players would be allowed to celebrate for a few more hours before placing the victory in their rearview mirror.

Meanwhile, Patriots fans wanted to savor this victory longer, as for them it was yet another coronation for the most dominant sports team of the twenty-first century. For Colts fans, of course, it was a car crash, and Bob Kravitz had witnessed the fiery wreck close enough to smell the burning rubber. This was more than a playoff loss. It was the worst defeat for the Colts against the Patriots in a big-game situation. There were no silver linings to write about for next season. Even with a star quarterback like Andrew Luck, the Colts were simply not in the Patriots' class, and as long as Tom Brady remained on the field, the outlook would not change.

Kravitz made his way to the losing locker room and the Colts' postgame press conference, where he spotted the team's brain trust—owner Jim Irsay, head coach Chuck Pagano, and general manager Ryan Grigson—huddled in a corner in a heated powwow. The columnist figured that the owner was demanding heads roll after such an embarrassing defeat. It was understandable, Kravitz thought, and over the next couple of hours he stuck to his script and conducted player interviews that would make up his Monday-morning hit piece. It was late in the evening when he returned to the press box to fetch his laptop and cell phone. After packing away his computer, he reached for his phone and noticed that he'd received a message from someone in the NFL league office. The text read, Something you need to know. Give me a call.

Kravitz waited until he got to the parking lot at Gillette Stadium and then got out his phone.

"The Patriots are being investigated by the league for deflating footballs," the source told him.

"Get the fuck outta here," Kravitz responded incredulously. "I don't believe it."

"Believe it," the source told him.

"I can't run with the story unless I get confirmation."

"Then I suggest you do."

Kravitz hung up and began texting and tweeting other league sources and soon got ahold of another trusted NFL insider.

"Is it true the Patriots are being investigated for deflating footballs in the AFC championship?" he asked.

"If you write it, you won't be wrong," the insider replied.

Kravitz's mind was now racing. He still had to get back to his hotel room in nearby Smithfield, Rhode Island, to finish his column about the Colts' blowout loss. But the game itself seemed like an afterthought to him now. He had been given the opportunity to break a major story, and it couldn't wait for the morning news cycle. The columnist decided to report the allegations in a tweet. He began to type—Breaking: A league source tells me the NFL is investigating the possibility the Patriots deflated footballs Sunday night. More to come.

He showed his phone screen to his boss, WTHR Indianapolis sports director Dave Calabro.

"You know this is gonna raise holy hell," Calabro warned.

Kravitz nodded. He had begun to sweat in the cold New England night. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his thick index finger on the send button. The time was 1:55 a.m.

"Here goes nothing. Let's go break the Internet."

Bob Kravitz placed his head on a pillow and stared at the ceiling of his small hotel room. He closed his eyes but sleep would not come. He'd been a sports reporter and columnist for thirty-five years, and he describes his knowledge of the inner workings of the NFL as "a mile wide and an inch deep. Just enough to be dangerous."3

His social media post was potentially the most dangerous dispatch of his career. He lay awake wondering if he would even have a career in the morning.

There's a chance you could be wrong, Kravitz told himself. Your balls are now on the line.

Unlike Kravitz, Tom Brady slept soundly that Sunday night. After the game, he had returned home to his supermodel wife, Gisele Bündchen, and his mansion in Brookline, a tony Boston suburb, where team owner Robert Kraft also resided. Brady's body felt strong and healthy. He hadn't been punished by the Colts defense as he had been the previous week during an epic and physically draining come-from-behind win against the rugged Baltimore Ravens at Gillette Stadium. In that game, Ravens defenders repeatedly broke through the barrier reef formed by Brady's offensive line to agitate the quarterback with angry shoves and violent pro wrestling–style hits.

While the aging legend struggled early, opposing Ravens quarterback Joe Flacco was going for the kill. Flacco had been a mystery to Patriots coaches, players, and fans throughout his career. He had never been intimidated by the aura of Bill Belichick and was immune to the three championship banners hanging from the rafters above the south end zone inside Gillette Stadium. Historically, Flacco performed well in New England, especially in the playoffs. He'd thrown five touchdowns and passed for more than five hundred yards over their past three showdowns and had two big wins over Brady and the Patriots to show for it. The six-foot-six signal caller had also thrown thirteen touchdowns with zero interceptions over his last five playoff appearances. The 2015 divisional playoff game appeared to be following Flacco's script. In the first quarter, he threw a nineteen-yard touchdown strike to wide receiver Kamar Aiken, himself a former Patriot, and then followed it up with a nine-yard score to respected veteran Steve Smith Sr., who caught cornerback Darrelle Revis on the inside for an easy touchdown.

The rambunctious hometown crowd grew quiet and waited to see how Brady and the Patriots would respond. It was now time to release the kraken. Patriots offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels summoned the pass-catching beast known as Rob Gronkowski and called his number 87 for two big pass plays, one for sixteen yards and another for a whopping forty yards down the left seam on the edge of the Ravens' coverage. Brady capped the drive with a scrambling run into the end zone. The Patriots were alive again and would soon tie the score, when Brady found slot receiver Danny Amendola, who pulled in a short pass and leaped for a touchdown. But Flacco and the Ravens soon countered with two more scores, and the pendulum continued to swing drastically back and forth as the two quarterbacks battled like prizefighters. Down 28 to 14, Brady brought his team back with a touchdown to Gronkowski. Then slot receiver Julian Edelman, Brady's favorite target, found a target of his own. Josh McDaniels called a trick play, allowing Edelman, a former Kent State University quarterback, an opportunity for highlight-reel glory. The receiver took a pass from Brady behind the line of scrimmage and then paid it forward with a perfect spiral down the sideline to Amendola, a similarly built receiver twin, for a fifty-one-yard touchdown. There was jubilation in Foxborough.

A Baltimore field goal put the Ravens back in the lead, but once again, Brady charged back with his third touchdown pass of the game to veteran wide receiver Brandon LaFell. The strike was history in the making as it placed Brady in front of his boyhood idol, San Francisco 49ers legend Joe Montana, and Packers great Brett Favre, as the quarterback with the most postseason touchdowns—forty-six.

On this night, however, records meant little to Brady. The game was still tight, and the Patriots were holding on to a precarious four-point lead. The ball was now back in Joe Flacco's hands, and the Ravens quarterback showed why he'd earned the nickname "Joe Cool," which had been Montana's moniker a generation ago. He completed a critical fourth-down pass as the clock approached the two-minute warning. But a field goal would do Baltimore no good. The Ravens had to score a touchdown. Two plays later, Flacco heaved the ball to Steve Smith Sr., who was flanked by two Patriots defensive backs near the end zone. Safety Duron Harmon turned toward the play at the optimum moment and made a game-saving interception. Flacco would get one more shot, but a Hail Mary pass came up short and the Patriots were headed to the AFC championship game, where they would go on to trounce the Colts.

The Ravens, on the other hand, were headed home to Baltimore. They were beaten and angry. Before hopping on the team charter, head coach John Harbaugh addressed the media in a news conference at Gillette Stadium. Harbaugh was outraged that the Patriots had used an unorthodox blocking scheme during the game on a critical third-quarter drive where only four offensive linemen took position at the line of scrimmage. The team still needed a fifth player on the line, so running back Shane Vereen checked into the game as an ineligible receiver and rarely used tight end Michael Hoomanawanui moved over to the left tackle position. The chess move left Harbaugh and Ravens defensive coordinator Dean Pees no time to adjust and figure out who the eligible and ineligible receivers were. As the ball was snapped to Brady, Hoomanawanui raced upfield unchallenged and hauled in the pass. The tight end–turned–left tackle had open room and ran for several more yards before getting pulled down deep in Ravens territory. As the Patriots walked back to the huddle, a bewildered Harbaugh had no idea what he'd just witnessed and marched onto the field to cry foul. The coach drew a penalty for screaming at the officials and was forced to bite his lower lip until the postgame, when he took the podium and blasted the Patriots to reporters.

"We wanted the opportunity to ID who the eligible receivers were," Harbaugh said. "They [the Patriots] would announce the eligible player and then time was taken [off the game clock] and they would snap the ball before we had a chance to figure out who was lined up where, and that was the deception part of it. And that's where it was clearly deception.…Nobody's ever seen that before."

When a reporter asked the coach whether he thought the play was cheap or dirty, Harbaugh responded with a terse no comment. The Ravens coach had just chummed the water with raw meat, and the sharks smelled blood. For the NFL beat writers, it was an easy and tantalizing story to write. The Patriots were being accused of deception once again. For the legion of football fans across the nation who despised Brady, Belichick, and company, it offered the opportunity to resurrect the Spygate scandal in barroom and online conversations.

For Harbaugh's part, his tacit insistence that the Patriots were playing dirty or cheap could have been interpreted as a cheap shot against the organization. The Ravens coach claimed no one had ever seen a play like that before, when in reality the University of Alabama had run a similar play back in November 2014 in an overtime win against the Louisiana State University Tigers. Harbaugh noted that Bill Vinovich, the referee for the Patriots–Ravens game, had also made clear announcements in the stadium that certain Patriots receivers were ineligible, in essence telling the Ravens' defenders they didn't need to cover them.

When John Harbaugh's comments reached the ears of Tom Brady, the quarterback shot right back during his own postgame press conference.

"Maybe those guys [the Ravens] gotta study the rule book and figure it out. We obviously knew what we were doing and we made some pretty important plays. It was a real good weapon for us. Maybe we'll have something in store next week. I don't know what's deceiving about that. They [the Ravens] should figure it out."

The NFL backed up Brady's statement, ruling that nothing was illegal about the play in question, but the quarterback's counterpunch did not sit well with Harbaugh and other members of the Ravens organization, and the repercussions would be gigantic.

Number 12 later attempted to defuse the situation by saying he had a lot of respect for John Harbaugh as a coach, but the damage was already done and Baltimore plotted its revenge.

In the days leading up to the AFC championship, Ravens assistant head coach and special teams coordinator Jerry Rosburg placed a phone call to his friend Colts head coach Chuck Pagano. Pagano had close ties to the Baltimore organization, having served as the team's defensive coordinator in 2011. Rosburg informed his former colleague of something rotten in the state of Denmark. The special teams coach believed that within the palace walls of Gillette Stadium there lurked corruption and deceit on a scale that would have inspired William Shakespeare. Rosburg explained that the Ravens had experienced serious issues when they were in kicking or punt situations during their game with the Patriots. Each time, before they lined up a kick, the Ravens were handed new footballs instead of the balls Rosburg and his team had prepared themselves.