The Rivalry: Mystery at the Army-Navy Game

by John Feinstein

  “Me?” Stevie said.

  Dowling turned to another agent and pointed at Kelleher and Mearns. “They’re fine right here during the toss,” he said. “They stay here until the president leaves the field and Bob and I come back to get them.”

  The agent nodded. The noise hadn’t abated even a little bit. “Hang on one minute,” Dowling said to Stevie and Susan Carol. “Let the captains get out there first.”

  The captains had started walking to greet one another while their teammates, all wanting to get as close as they could, followed a few yards behind. Mike Daniels was waiting for them, and the president arrived a moment later. It was now extremely crowded around the giant Army-Navy logo at midfield.

  Daniels introduced himself and the other six officials who would call the game. Agents were everywhere. Two CBS camera crews were moving around trying to get close-ups of everyone. Dowling pointed Stevie and Susan Carol to a spot a few feet from the Army captains. The president saw them and waved as if he had just spotted one of his kids at a school concert. They waved back.

  “Don’t move, don’t say anything,” Dowling said over the din. “Just watch and listen.”

  Stevie knew that as a reporter he should just be observing, but he was also an American and this was amazingly cool. He didn’t even try to keep the grin off his face.

  Daniels had now opened his microphone so everyone in the stadium could hear him.

  “Mr. President, I’m Mike Daniels, the game referee. It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

  “It’s great to be here,” the president answered, standing close enough to the mike that he could be heard clearly.

  “Mr. President, this is a special coin made for today’s game,” Daniels said, reaching into his pocket and removing an extremely large coin. “As you can see, the front of the coin has an image of the White House, the back of the coin shows the Capitol building. I’m going to give you the coin to toss.”

  “Thank you,” President Obama said, taking the coin.

  Daniels waved the four captains closer. The two Army captains stood with their backs to the Army sideline, their teammates bunched up behind them. The Navy captains faced them, and the president stood directly in between them.

  Daniels said, “Gentlemen, I know you’ve all met the president. Navy is the visiting team this year. Mr. Dobbs, Mr. Middleton, which of you will call the toss?”

  “I will,” Dobbs said.

  Stevie could see all the various cameramen, assembled opposite President Obama, jostling for position, clicking their cameras madly. He looked at Susan Carol for a split second and saw she had a smile as wide as his.

  “Mr. President, will you hold the coin out so that Mr. Dobbs can see it?” Daniels asked.

  President Obama held it in his palm and Daniels continued. “Mr. Dobbs, the White House is heads.” He looked at Obama, who turned the coin over in his hand. “And the Capitol building is tails,” Daniels said. “Everyone understand?”

  Everyone nodded. Daniels asked the captains to take a step back to give the president some room, and he took a step back himself to make sure the TV cameras had a clear shot of the president flipping the coin.

  “Mr. President, whenever you are ready, you can flip the coin. Just toss it in the air and let it land on the ground.”

  The president smiled. “Good luck to all of you,” he said, and flipped the coin high in the air.

  Dobbs called, “Heads!” as the coin was spiraling in the air.

  When the coin landed, Daniels looked down and said, “It’s tails. Army wins the toss. Mr. Klein? What does your team want to do?”

  “We’ll defer,” Derek Klein said, meaning Army would kick off to start the game so it could receive at the start of the second half.

  Everyone moved around so Daniels could signal which direction Army would kick in. There was more handshaking all around. Everyone had been instructed to stay in place until the president left the field.

  He was greeted by Lieutenant General Hagenbeck, the superintendent of West Point, and other Army officials and escorted to the Army side of the field, where he would watch the first half of the game. As ever, they were surrounded by camera crews and agents, but the president chatted happily with Hagenbeck, seeming completely at ease.

  As soon as the president hit the sidelines, everyone on the field began scrambling again.

  “Come on,” Dowling said. “Let’s get the field cleared so these guys can play a football game.”

  Oh yeah, Stevie thought, the game.

  The plan was for Stevie and Susan Carol to watch the game from the sidelines: Stevie on the Army side, Susan Carol on the Navy side.

  As the field was being cleared, Daniels paused as he passed them.

  “You two better watch yourselves. If you get in the way at all, I can have you thrown out of here in about five seconds,” he said.

  “No, you can’t,” Pete Dowling said, magically appearing behind them. “I’m sure you have somewhere you need to be right now.”

  Daniels glared for an instant, then turned and jogged away.

  “Thanks, Mr. Dowling,” Susan Carol said.

  “Can you two stay out of trouble for the next few hours, please?” Dowling said. “I don’t want to have to protect you too.”

  “They’re the ones who started it,” Stevie said.

  “I know,” Dowling said. “Although actually, Susan Carol, your story started it. Not that it was wrong.”

  They heard another roar and saw that the president was giving a last wave before ducking into the tunnel. Dowling put his hand up to his ear again and said, “Roger that,” into his wrist.

  He nodded at Stevie and Susan Carol. “All clear. You guys get set up on the sidelines and please duck behind someone if one of the officials comes close to you.”

  “We will,” Susan Carol said. “But what happened with the Arnott family?”

  Dowling shrugged. “Nothing. They’re in the stadium now, and we’ve got eyes on them. But there’s nothing suspicious we can see. Seems that all their big talk was just that.”

  “But you had to take it seriously, right?” Stevie said.

  Dowling nodded. “No doubt. Every threat is serious until proven otherwise. The FBI will continue to monitor their group. I appreciate your not writing anything that would compromise the agents’ position.”

  “So you don’t have any concerns about the rest of the game?” Susan Carol asked.

  “Well, the president will change sides at halftime, and the job isn’t done until we deliver him safely back to the White House. But no, I don’t have any special concerns anymore.”

  “I do,” said Stevie. “The refs still suck.”

  25. KICKOFF!

  As Army kicker Jay Parker teed the ball up and the crowd came to its feet in anticipation of the kickoff, Susan Carol took a deep breath and looked around her at the happy, excited, tense, organized chaos of the Navy sideline. At last, they were going to see a football game. It had been a long two weeks and a very long morning. At least, she thought, the afternoon would be fun.

  Alex Teich returned the kickoff for Navy to the 33-yard line. From there, Dobbs and his offense began moving the ball swiftly down the field. Fullback Alex Murray carried twice for twelve yards. Dobbs sprinted around the right side for nine and then went left for six and another first down. A quick slant pass to slotback G. G. Greene was good for another first down, and then Murray picked up another eight, setting up second and two at the Army 21. The Navy sideline was ebullient. They were poised to jump to a quick lead en route to a ninth straight win over Army.

  Susan Carol could barely hear anything above the crowd and the constant strains of “Anchors Aweigh.” Captain Matt Klunder joined them on the sidelines just as Dobbs took the snap and turned to hand the ball to Murray again. Only this time he pulled the ball out of Murray’s stomach at the last possible second, took three quick steps back, and lofted the ball toward the end zone, where wide receiver Greg Jones was a good five y
ards behind all the Army defenders. Jones gathered the ball in and went into the end zone for a touchdown.

  The Navy bench exploded.

  But just as quickly, the cheer turned to a groan. Susan Carol saw Daniels consulting with the back judge and nodding.

  “Holding, number 84,” Daniels said, referring to Jones, the receiver who had caught the pass. “That’s a ten-yard penalty, and we’ll repeat second down.”

  Jeff Fair, Navy’s trainer, was livid. “Holding? No Army player got close enough to the kid to get held.”

  “Oh, please,” Klunder said. “Please don’t let the refs steal another game-not this game.”

  “Let’s not worry yet,” Susan Carol said. “That’s not one of the officials from the Notre Dame game.”

  “They really should have changed the officials,” Fair said.

  The penalty put Navy back to the Army 32. Dobbs tried a screen pass on second down, but it went nowhere. On third down he tried to give the ball to Murray on a late draw, but the play only picked up a yard. Trying to get some momentum back, Kenny Niumatalolo decided to go for it on fourth down and eleven, but a pass to Greene in the end zone was broken up.

  From the Army sidelines, Stevie watched as Army took over the ball and began its first drive of the game. The sophomore quarterback Trent Steelman was running the option offense nearly as smoothly as Dobbs. The Cadets picked up three quick first downs and were soon at the Navy 30. Steelman sprinted left with the ball and made a last-second pitch to slotback Steve Carpenter. Carpenter caught the ball with a full head of steam and raced to the Navy 5-yard line.

  Dick Hall and Dean Taylor were high-fiving as the Army bench went crazy.

  “Hang on, fellas,” Tim Kelly said. “Take a look.”

  Sure enough, a yellow flag was lying on the turf not that far from where they were standing. This time the umpire had made the call. As Daniels opened his mike to indicate that left guard Joel Davis had been called for a hold, Taylor was screaming at him.

  “How do you see a guard holding in the middle of the line on a pitch?” he asked. “What was that, a makeup call?”

  Stevie made himself scarce behind Dick Hall as the ref glared in their direction. The ball was being marched back to the Navy 40. Instead of a first and goal at the 5, it was first and twenty at the 40.

  “You called it, Tim,” Hall said. “The score is tied. One bad call each.”

  Stevie looked at the scoreboard. The first quarter was almost over and the score was tied: 0-0.

  It stayed that way as the first quarter melted into the second. Both teams would make good yardage, but then the defenses seemed to really dig in when they were in the red zone and no one could score. At one point, Army’s Derek Klein intercepted a Dobbs pass on a quick out pattern and raced thirty-nine yards down the field for a touchdown. But before the Army people could even begin celebrating, Stevie spotted the flag: interference on Klein. Army coach Rich Ellerson was beside himself: “There wasn’t anything close to contact,” he was screaming at the side judge who had made the call.

  Navy took possession again, but nerves were high and the Mids got stalled by consecutive penalties for having a man in motion.

  “Well, give them credit,” Kelly said. “The refs are calling bad penalties equally on both teams.”

  The game was halted for a TV time-out. Stevie glanced at the scoreboard: there was 3:21 until halftime, and the game was still scoreless.

  Terry Ramspeth, the line judge, had walked over near where Stevie was standing during the time-out. He was, Stevie suspected, giving him the evil eye, but Stevie was doing his best to keep calm and look the other way. Dean Taylor, standing next to him, was a bit more of a hothead on the sidelines, as usual.

  “What’s your problem?” he yelled at Ramspeth. “Why don’t you stop staring at the kid and focus on the game?”

  “Settle down, Coach,” Ramspeth said.

  “I’m not a coach,” Taylor said. “Am I wearing a headset?”

  Ramspeth didn’t have an answer for that one, and Taylor kept going. “How many more phantom calls are you guys going to make today?” he asked. “Are you going to make sure NO ONE scores in this game?”

  Taylor had clearly hit a nerve. Ramspeth walked right up to him and said, “Okay, that’s it,” and threw a flag into the air. Daniels instantly trotted over.

  “What’ve you got, Terry?” he asked.

  “I don’t even know who this guy is,” he said. “But he’s wearing Army gear and he’s screaming profanities at me. Unsportsmanlike conduct.”

  “Profanities?” Taylor said. “That’s an absolute lie.”

  Rich Ellerson came sprinting down the sideline. “What’s going on with you guys, Mike? You’re throwing flags on my team doc?”

  “Terry says he used profanity.”

  Taylor cut in. “Complete and utter lie.”

  Hall and Kelly jumped in too. “No way,” they both said. “He was talking to him, but there was no cursing.”

  Stevie wanted to back Taylor up too, but he figured he’d better keep his mouth shut.

  “Give me a minute,” said Daniels, who pulled Ramspeth away to talk. It looked like a heated conversation-Ramspeth was waving his arms; Daniels kept putting his palms downward to indicate he needed to calm down. Finally Daniels nodded and stepped clear of Ramspeth and opened his microphone.

  Pulling his flag from his back pocket, he waved it in the air. “There is no flag,” he said simply. Then he trotted over to Ellerson. “I’m cutting you some slack because it’s an emotional game. But one more word from your sideline and the flag will stick.”

  Ellerson nodded but didn’t say anything until the officials walked away. Then he turned to Taylor, Kelly, and Hall, his voice surprisingly soft. “You guys need to cool it. Doesn’t matter how right you are and how wrong they are. We can’t afford an unsportsmanlike in a scoreless game.”

  They all nodded as Daniels blew his whistle to put the ball back in play.

  Taylor was still shaking his head five minutes later. “Man, usually refs are thicker-skinned than that. Guy went nuts, didn’t he?”

  Stevie smiled. “Well, you did imply he wasn’t going to let anyone score.”

  Dicky Hall laughed. “Yeah, but he’s said much worse and never gotten that strong a reaction.”

  “Much worse,” Tim Kelly agreed.

  “Hey!” Taylor protested. “Whose side are you on?”

  Stevie laughed with them but then suddenly froze. What if…?

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” Stevie told his friends, and as Army came out of the huddle to resume play, he began running down the field to the end zone so he could cross to the Navy side. Susan Carol was standing with two men in Navy uniforms when he got there.

  “Hey, you. Can you believe this game?” she said. “At least neither team can say the refs are cheating them. Every time one team gets a bad call, then the other one does too.”

  Stevie was a bit winded, so he didn’t respond right away. “Tell me again what your dad told you about betting and the over-under?”

  Susan Carol shot him a look as Steelman picked up four yards and the crowd on the sideline moved away from them to follow the play.

  “What-?”

  “Just repeat it for me.”

  She sighed but did as asked. “If you bet the over-under, the bookie picks a number and you say whether the total score for both teams will be more or less than that number. What is this about?”

  “What’s the score?” Stevie asked.

  “Nothing-nothing.”

  “And what’s happened every time someone gets close to scoring?”

  She opened her mouth to answer and then stopped. “Oh my God!” she said. “Every time someone has had a chance to score, there’s been a penalty.”

  Steelman threw an incomplete pass in the direction of Michael Arnott, leaving Army at third and six.

  “It’s the perfect solution, right?” Stevie said. “Everyone sits back and says, ‘Well
, the officiating may be bad, but it’s been bad both ways.’ They can’t use the same tack as at Notre Dame. This way they can control the game without making anyone suspicious.”

  “Do you really think…?”

  “Yes,” Stevie said. “I do.”

  Army was lining up to punt, having failed to pick up a first down. There was 2:14 left in the half, and Navy had called time out hoping to get good field position and put together some kind of drive in those last two minutes. TV had taken yet another time-out for more commercials.

  “What do we do?” Susan Carol asked. “How could we prove it? We can’t just walk into the referees’ locker room at halftime and accuse them of bettin’ on the game.”

  “No, we can’t. But the Secret Service and the FBI can. You know there are FBI agents here today. There have to be. And fixing a game is a federal offense.”

  She pulled out her cell phone and began dialing.

  “Who’re you calling?”

  “Mr. Dowling.” She paused. “Mr. Dowling, I know this sounds crazy, but are there FBI people here today?” She paused again. “Is there any way you can meet us in the tunnel near the referees’ locker room? Like now?”

  Dowling said something in response and Susan Carol nodded. “I swear I wouldn’t bother you if it was.

  “Okay, thank you. We’ll walk over there right now.”

  She snapped the phone shut. “He can’t come himself because the president is going to cross the field soon. But he’s sending two FBI guys to meet us.”

  “Wow,” Stevie said. “I guess he trusts us a little, anyway.”

  She nodded. “I know-I hope we’re right about this.” Stevie smiled, and then she said, “Wait, I mean, I wish we were wrong, of course, but I hope we’re right…”

  “I know what you mean,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  They jogged in the direction of the tunnel, stopping in the end zone to watch Army punt. Navy came with a ten-man rush, trying to block the punt. Someone broke through the middle and ran right at punter Kyle Delahooke. Stevie saw the ball come off Delahooke’s foot and smack into the Navy defender’s outstretched hands. The ball careened off his hands to the right and there was a mad scramble for it.