The Rivalry: Mystery at the Army-Navy Game

by John Feinstein

  Dowling sighed. “Look, Susan Carol, I’m going to ask you to use your best judgment.

  “I need you all to take this seriously. The FBI agent feels that the other members of the KWCS are suspicious of him. So if you push too hard, or ask questions about white supremacy groups, or seem to know too much, it could come back on him, and that’s the last thing we need right now.”

  “But I don’t know much,” Susan Carol protested.

  “No.” Dowling gave the barest hint of a smile. “But you’ve proven yourself to be a good guesser.”

  The reporters walked back to the practice field in silence.

  The postpractice plan was still the same, but suddenly everything felt different.

  19. OFFICIAL INQUIRIES

  Once the players had broken their huddle at the end of practice, Stevie saw Scott Strasemeier walking in his direction with Ricky Dobbs, who was wearing the red practice jersey that quarterbacks wore to let defenders know they weren’t supposed to be hit.

  “Steve, this is Ricky Dobbs,” Strasemeier said. “We’re going to do a couple of TV interviews here on the field, and then it will be just you and Christian Swezey from GoMids.com inside.”

  Stevie shook hands with Dobbs, who said, “Steve, we met at lunch in Philadelphia-good to see you again.” Stevie remembered reading that Dobbs said he might want to run for president someday. And watching him now, with his light-up-the-world smile, made Stevie think it was possible.

  While Dobbs talked to Bret Haber and his crew from Channel 9, Stevie stood a few yards away watching. When Haber asked about the officiating at Notre Dame, Dobbs had his answer ready.

  “We’ve already forgotten about that,” he said. “You can’t dwell on the past; it doesn’t do any good. Plus, we still had chances to win the game and we just didn’t get it done.”

  Perfect answer, Stevie thought, except he didn’t believe it for a minute. He remembered Eddie Brennan, the quarterback of the California Dreams, telling him that he remembered every single bad call that had ever been made against one of his teams. “That includes peewee football when I was eight,” he said.

  Stevie was making a mental note to ask Dobbs how he really felt about the officiating when Christian Swezey walked up and introduced himself. He was tall and had blond curly hair and a friendly smile.

  “I just wanted to tell you that I think it’s really awesome that we’re going to interview Dobbs together,” Swezey said. “I just can’t believe the stories you’ve broken and written. You and Susan Carol are absolutely amazing.”

  “Well, thanks,” Stevie said, liking Swezey right away for obvious reasons.

  Dobbs finished his last TV interview-telling Russ Thaler, who worked for the DC-based outlet of Comcast SportsNet, that playing in the Army-Navy game was “an honor for everyone who puts on the uniform.”

  That comment Stevie believed.

  Once the TV people were done, Strasemeier got them settled in a small conference room. If there was a time limit, he didn’t say anything about it. Dobbs obviously knew Swezey.

  “How’s our lacrosse team going to be, Christian?” he asked, then said to Stevie, “Christian is the man when it comes to lacrosse.”

  “He’s exaggerating,” Swezey said. “I just cover it a little bit.”

  He then launched into a five-minute breakdown of the Navy lacrosse team position by position that left Stevie feeling a bit dazed. When he paused for breath, Stevie jumped in and said, “Okay, no cameras rolling here, how did you really feel about the officiating at Notre Dame?”

  Dobbs looked him right in the eye. “You quoting me?”

  “Not if you don’t want me to,” Stevie said. “I’d just like to know what the players really thought.”

  “Not to be quoted, they should put those guys in jail,” Dobbs said. “I mean, if stealing is a crime…”

  That was all Stevie needed to hear. He was testing his theory more than looking for a story. For the next twenty minutes, they talked about life at Navy, Dobbs’s winning a dance contest the previous year, and his political ambitions.

  “I met President Obama when we went to the White House after winning the Commander-in-Chief’s Trophy last year,” Dobbs said. “But it’ll be great to have him at that game, and he’s going to come in the locker room to meet the team with no cameras or anything. That’s what I’m most looking forward to.”

  “Does all the extra security with the president coming bother you at all?” Stevie asked.

  Dobbs shook his head. “No, not at all. We’re used to security around here. We understand why they have to do it. I’ve heard a couple of guys complain, but they’re guys who voted for Senator McCain.”

  “McCain did graduate from Navy,” Swezey said.

  “Yes. And he’s a good man,” Dobbs said. “I’ve met him too. He’s a hero. But a few of our guys, to tell you the truth, I think have some trouble with an African American being president.”

  That comment surprised Stevie.

  “Really?” he said. “Didn’t you get voted team captain this year?”

  Dobbs laughed. “Captain of the Navy football team is a little different than president of the United States, isn’t it? Plus, I’m not talking about most of the guys or even some of the guys, I’m talking about a small handful. It’s not a big deal. Arguing politics is a sport of its own here. I enjoy disagreeing with those guys.”

  “Even when it’s racial?” Swezey said.

  “Racial arguments are nothing new for me,” Dobbs said. “I’m from Georgia. Some guys here grew up in all-white environments and they’re just learning that they don’t live in an all-white world. They’ll come around. I will tell you this, though: you can’t be an African American in this country and not encounter racism.”

  He paused for a moment and said, “Don’t quote me on this because I don’t want to make it a bigger deal than it is, but when we’ve been on the road, I’ve had fans say things to me as we’re coming out of the tunnel. I even had a ref say something.”

  “A REF?” Stevie and Swezey both said.

  “Yeah. I was arguing a call with a guy-he’d called a chop block, and I was asking him how he could call it when there was only one guy involved and there have to be two for a chop block.

  “He looked at me and said, ‘Son, only your captain can talk to the officials.’ I said, ‘I AM the captain,’ and he said, ‘I don’t believe it,’ and walked away.”

  “And you thought that he said that because you’re black?” Stevie asked.

  “I know he said it because I’m black,” Dobbs said. “I’ve heard that tone enough times in my life to recognize it. Hey, how did we get on this subject?”

  “President Obama,” Stevie said.

  “Right, I forgot. Bottom line, and I mean this: I think everyone is very psyched about him being there.”

  “Everybody?” Stevie asked.

  “Yes,” he said. “Everybody.”

  They broke up a few minutes later. Stevie walked back outside and found Tamara and Susan Carol waiting for him.

  “Where’s Bobby?” he asked.

  “Still with Kenny,” Tamara said. “He had to wait because Kenny had to do all his TV stuff. They’ve been talking a while, though, so I hope he’s getting something.”

  “How’d you guys do?” Stevie asked.

  “I talked to Chet,” she said. “He said the Secret Service explained they’re going to ratchet up security as a precaution, but as of right now, there’s nothing that will affect what they’re doing this week.”

  “And you?” Stevie said, looking at Susan Carol, who seemed subdued.

  She sighed. “Just like his brother, Alan Arnott is a smart, good kid. I’ve got a really good feature story on the two brothers but no new information. I wonder if the brothers even know about their father being in that group. It’s really hard to imagine, having met them.”

  Stevie filled them in on what Dobbs had said about encountering racism during a game. “Interesting stuff,” T
amara said. “But I don’t think it carries the story any farther.”

  “No, but I’d sure like to meet that ref,” Stevie said. “I just can’t believe it. And the fans-how do you go to a football game and yell something at a player from Navy?”

  “I’m not so shocked,” Susan Carol said. “I hear stuff like that all time where I live. Mostly from older people-not so much with kids my age. But still. It’s out there.”

  Kelleher was walking in their direction with Niumatalolo. “So I hear you had great weather at Army yesterday,” Niumatalolo said as he shook hands with everyone. “Just remember we made arrangements for perfect weather for you here at Navy.”

  They all laughed, happy to have the mood lightened a bit.

  “Sorry I have to run,” Niumatalolo said. “I have to get inside and meet with my coaches.”

  “You’ll stay in touch, right?” Kelleher said.

  “You have my word,” Niumatalolo said.

  He waved to everyone and walked off.

  “Get anything?” Tamara said.

  “Yeah,” Kelleher said. “I’ll tell you about it in the car. We need to get back to the office so we can all write.”

  As they were driving out the gate, Kelleher filled them in.

  “Obviously we can’t use this right now for about a million reasons,” he said. “But Kenny said the Secret Service told him that they may not let the Arnott family into the game.”

  “They can do that?” Susan Carol said.

  “They can keep anyone they want out of the game if they believe their presence might be a danger to the president,” Kelleher said.

  “Do you think the president is in any real danger?” Susan Carol asked.

  “I don’t,” Kelleher said. “If there’s something going on-and that still seems like a big if to me-the FBI and the Secret Service are on it and they know what they’re doing. I do think getting into that stadium next Saturday is going to be a real nightmare.”

  “So we keep after the story, then?” Stevie asked.

  “Oh yeah,” Bobby said. “We’re like the Secret Service. We don’t take anything for granted and we don’t assume anything. Hey, there’s one other thing Kenny told me that may be just as interesting on another front.”

  “What’s that?” Tamara asked.

  “They tried to get the officiating crew changed. Kenny and Chet said they didn’t want anyone who was on the Notre Dame crew on the game.”

  “How’d that go over?” Susan Carol asked, instantly intrigued.

  “Not well. In fact, they’re still fighting about it. The ACC, which assigns the officials, said it wouldn’t change the crew, there was no reason to change the crew, and they were insulted by the request. Kenny responded by sending the tape of the two plays from Notre Dame with a note that said, ‘You show me where there was a hold on either play and I’ll shut up. Otherwise, I want different officials.’ ”

  “And?” Susan Carol asked.

  “They sent the tape Friday. They haven’t heard anything back.”

  “What a surprise,” Susan Carol said bitterly. “The refs are all too busy writing letters to the editor.”

  Back at the Post, as they were coming off the elevators, they ran into Bob Woodward.

  “Hey, it’s the four Musketeers,” Woodward said. “Have you guys been able to keep Bobby in line this week?”

  “Almost. Actually, it’s these two we’ve had trouble with-as usual,” Tamara said, pointing to Stevie and Susan Carol.

  “Oh yes, this must be the famous Susan Carol,” Woodward said, putting his hand out. “I’m Bob Woodward. Great piece on the Notre Dame-Navy game. I’m with you on the referees. I say never trust them.”

  In all the time he had known her, Stevie had never seen Susan Carol anywhere close to speechless. Now she could barely stammer back, “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Woodward.”

  “Bob,” Woodward said. “Where are you from, Susan Carol? Obviously somewhere in the South.”

  “I’m from…” Susan Carol paused. “I’m from…” She stopped again. Stevie was amazed. He’d seen her cool, calm, and collected while talking to Matt Damon, to star quarterback Eddie Brennan, to any number of famous people. Now she was completely flustered.

  “Goldsboro, North Carolina,” Tamara said, coming to the rescue.

  “I’m from a small town too,” Woodward said, patting her on the shoulder. “Wheaton, Illinois. It’s very nice to meet you. You guys keep up the good work.”

  An elevator had arrived and he stepped onto it with a wave goodbye.

  Stevie looked at Susan Carol. All color had drained from her face. “I-I can’t believe it,” she stammered. “I forgot where I was from.”

  “Bob is so un-intimidating he can be intimidating,” Tamara said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Don’t worry about it? I just met Bob Woodward and I couldn’t remember where I lived. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life!”

  “Trust me, Bob will judge you only by what you write,” Kelleher said. “Speaking of which, let’s get going.”

  Stevie had a lot of one-liners running through his head as they walked back to sports, but he resisted. He’d save them for when he really needed them…

  As was often the case, Stevie’s biggest problem in writing about the two quarterbacks, Ricky Dobbs and Trent Steelman, was deciding what to leave out. He had enough to write two thousand words easily.

  “Write two thousand if you want,” Kelleher said. “They’ll just use the best one thousand.”

  “I’m betting that line isn’t original,” Stevie said. “It sounds like something an editor would say.”

  “George Minot,” Kelleher said. “One of my first editors right out of college. That was always his line when I asked for extra space. He meant it too.”

  Susan Carol was given fifteen hundred words to write about the Arnott brothers and how one had ended up at Army, the other at Navy, and what it would be like for the two of them to play against each other in the biggest game of their lives.

  Stevie finished first and read some of Susan Carol’s story over her shoulder.

  In a perfect world, Michael and Alan Arnott would run out of the same tunnel this coming Saturday, wearing the same uniform, ready to do what they did throughout their boyhood: work together to win a football game. But life is never that simple, especially when it comes to college football. Neither Arnott was recruited by any of the major football-playing schools, but Navy defensive coordinator Buddy Green thought Alan Arnott had the potential to play linebacker for his team.

  “He was like a lot of players who have had success for us in the past,” Green said. “He wasn’t that big [5-11, 195 pounds] or that fast. But he had the ability to find his way to the football. Some of our best linebackers have been exactly like Alan.”

  Green’s instincts proved correct. Arnott broke into the starting lineup as a sophomore, and this year, as a junior, he is second in tackles and has three interceptions and four sacks. The only thing missing in his Navy experience is the presence of Michael, his younger brother. “Once I came here, I hoped Mike would follow me,” he said. “We’ve always been close. But he’s a tight end and there’s no tight end in our offense. Army offered him his best chance to play.”

  Michael Arnott is now Army’s starting tight end. This coming Saturday, when Army and Navy play for the 110th time, chances are good that the Arnott brothers will come face to face, or more accurately face mask to face mask, with one another.

  Stevie stopped reading. “That’s really good,” he said.

  “They’re both good talkers,” Susan Carol said. “Makes it easy.”

  “Being good makes it easy,” Stevie said. “Don’t let one dumb letter make you think any different.”

  That earned him a kiss. Which pretty much made his day.

  20. GAME DAY: 18 MINUTES TO KICKOFF

  Stevie heard a loud cheer coming from the Navy side of the field. The stadium, which seated more than ninety-two thousa
nd, was now filled to capacity. The Midshipmen, led by Ricky Dobbs and Wyatt Middleton, had appeared in their tunnel, wearing their white uniforms and gold helmets. A TV functionary wearing a headset stood in front of the remaining players, obviously waiting for the signal to send Navy onto the field.

  When it finally came, the players streamed from the tunnel. Two players carried American flags, and five cheerleaders streaked across the field carrying massive flags that said N, A, V, Y and GO MIDS! The crowd on the Navy side went crazy. Stevie noticed Dobbs and Middleton, escorted by cops and at least one Secret Service agent, break away to head for midfield.

  As soon as the Navy players had begun their sprint, the Army players raced onto the field from the opposite tunnel, and now the explosion of applause came from behind where Stevie and Susan Carol were standing at the 25-yard line.

  Both bands were playing their fight songs. The place was impossibly loud.

  But then it got louder still. Six F-15E Strike Eagles flew in formation low over the field. The sleek gray jets were gone almost as soon as Stevie noticed them. But the sound of them came a couple seconds later, and Stevie could feel it vibrating up through his feet and rattling in his chest. That drowned out even the crowd noise for a minute.

  Everything seemed to be happening fast now.

  Tim Kelly, Dick Hall, and Dean Taylor were jogging down the sideline, having followed the Army team onto the field. They spotted Stevie and Susan Carol and waved.

  Secret Service agents were also pouring out of the tunnel and fanning out around the field.

  “Stay close to us now,” Dowling said. “You wander off somewhere, you’re apt to be taken off the field by an agent who doesn’t know you.”

  “Even with all-access passes?” Stevie said.

  Dowling laughed. “They mean nothing once the president walks in here,” he said. “I’m your all-access pass right now.”