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Old article but I wanted to post it again.
https://theathletic.com/749116/2019/...-the-playoffs/
https://theathletic.com/749116/2019/...-the-playoffs/
A day in Philip Rivers' trusted routine as he prepares for the playoffs
By Sam Fortier Jan 4, 2019
8 
An alarm shrieked in the master bedroom of the San Diego home at 5:40 a.m., the same time it did every work morning. Philip Rivers opened his eyes. It was his 22nd week of organized football this season, and he wanted this Wednesday to go like all the other Wednesdays. The 37-year-old loves routine, and consistency now seemed as important as ever. His biggest challenge of the year was approaching fast. For the first time in six seasons, the quarterback was back in the playoffs, and this might be his best chance left to reach the Super Bowl that has eluded him his entire career.
In two days, the Chargers would fly across the country to Baltimore, where Rivers' teammates would rely on him to deliver a win on Sunday by outplaying the NFL's toughest defense, which had stifled and battered him two weeks before.
Rivers' feet hit the floor. He had 100 hours, 25 minutes until kickoff.
Rivers padded through the house. It was quiet. Just before 6, he slipped outside, away from his high-school sweetheart, Tiffany, and their children, who were on school vacation. He slid into one of the two brown, leather captain's chairs in the back of the waiting Cadillac Escalade.
This was his famous, raised-roof ride, the one he bought in 2017, when the Chargers moved to Los Angeles and he stayed in San Diego. For a while, he had scouted Orange County homes closer to the team's new facility in Costa Mesa, but ultimately, he couldn't leave the city he had called home since the franchise drafted him in 2004. Unwilling to sacrifice time with the family or team for his new commute, Rivers bought the SUV, registered it under the name "Hail Mary LLC" and paid Becker Automotive Design in Oxnard close to $200,000 to gut the car and turn it into what he once called the "best QB room I've ever been in."
As the driver piloted Rivers north toward the Route 73 toll road, he flicked on the 40-inch TV, plugged the HDMI cord into his laptop and loaded one of his many film cut-ups of the Ravens defense. Early in the week, he studied tendencies, like which defenders bit on which fakes or what pre-snap movements betrayed their intentions. Last year, he analyzed tape with Kellen Clemens, his backup and road-trip buddy, though Clemens found himself struggling to keep up. Rivers processed the clips faster than anyone the journeyman had ever been around.
"He's always looking for something," Clemens said. "It's an investigation and he's like a detective. He sometimes doesn't even watch what the play does. The rest of us mortals study the film and learn about the defense, watching as fans do, but (for Rivers), those are wasted seconds. You've only got so much time."
This offseason, the Chargers didn't re-sign Clemens, so now Rivers mostly rides alone. Seventy-two-and-a-half miles from his front door, the SUV pulled to a stop inside a gated parking lot. Just as the sun was rising, Rivers popped out and walked into the Hoag Performance Center. Rivers, a bacon-and-eggs guy, grabbed breakfast from the Tender Greens-catered cafeteria and hustled to the bottom-floor quarterback room ahead of the 7:50 meeting with quarterbacks coach Shane Steichen, offensive coordinator Ken Whisenhunt and backups Geno Smith and Cardale Jones.
The group hunkered there, in the room on the opposite wall of the team's reception desk, and scrutinized more video. In 2017, the Bills traded Jones to the Chargers and, after seeing what Rivers saw in a week of normal meetings, Jones said, "I felt like I wasn't in the NFL the year before."
At 9:25 a.m., head coach Anthony Lynn finished his 15-minute, team-wide meeting and released all his gathered coaches and players. Rivers retreated to the quarterbacks room. Sometimes, as position groups worked through the next 85 minutes, players ducked out for treatment, the chiropractor, breakfast leftovers, a phone call or a dip in the tub. Rivers is rarely one of them.
That morning, Rivers led "Protection," a meeting the team doesn't put on the schedule but completes each week whenever it can find the time. Players consider it one of the most vital parts of preparation. Rivers brought in the offensive line first and everyone, including the coaches, watched as the quarterback dissected each blocking assignment on certain plays. Later, the tight ends, running backs and receivers cycled through for the same review.
Rivers used to pore over cut-ups of the defense's blitzes for hours each week with former center Nick Hardwick, who snapped to Rivers from 2004 to 2014. They ferreted out the defense's tells for which type of blitz was coming and rehearsed their calls. Eventually, Hardwick realized Rivers enjoyed picking up a blitz as much as he did throwing a touchdown.
Sometimes, in games, the quarterback and center diagnosed the same defensive look differently and, as the play clock wound down, they chirped back and forth over which protection they needed.
"He always had veto power because he says, 'Hut,' " Hardwick laughed. "But we had it out for about 20 seconds."
At 11:05, the Chargers hit the practice field for "Slide and Glide," an offensive and defensive walk-through. At 11:40, the team took its midday break and Rivers grabbed lunch. Current and former teammates sometimes talk about Rivers' brain like a supercomputer, and they emphasize the importance of "cool down" moments like these so he doesn't "overheat."
At exactly noon, Rivers walked up to the media center's podium for his weekly press conference.
"Well, we've found a way," Rivers said to the first question about how the Chargers finished the regular season with an 8-0 record outside of Los Angeles County. Over the next 13 minutes and three seconds, he never mentioned that he believes he has a "handful of years" left, a sense of mortality he has hinted at several times this season. Instead, Rivers embodied "Nunc Coepi," the Latin slogan on his hat meaning "Now I begin," an urge to live in the moment. Rivers preached preparation to counter Baltimore's blitz-happy defense, blamed all six interceptions in the past three games on his own "really bad throws" and joked he could not comment on what sort of threat a running quarterback like Lamar Jackson posed because "shoot, I certainly don't know from personal experience."
Toward the end, Rivers grinned. The reporters seemed to think the Chargers were big underdogs against the Ravens when, in their last meeting, the teams played opposite roles.
"It's funny," Rivers said. "Two weeks ago, we were the hottest team in football, the front-runners, and now it seems like the scenario is all flipped. Who knows? ... We've got to talk about something for the next five days. Then we'll talk about what actually happened when it happens."
Rivers grimaced and walked away, down the stairs and toward the locker room.
Practice period started at 12:40 p.m. and, soon, players spread out in a long line, inching across the field as they stretched. At 1:03, the airhorn blew. Rivers and his backups, Smith and Jones, jogged to the opposite practice field and shuffled through a makeshift ladder drill of miniature hurdles and rifled throws at the Gilman Gear Drop-In Combonet, with a square opening slightly wider than the circumference of the ball. Later, they took turns lobbing fades toward the back net, angled away from them, and Rivers hit two of three throws.
After practice ended at 2:45, Rivers showered and found the quarterback group for his 3:05, the day's final meeting usually reserved for practice film review. Forty-five minutes later, he was done. He had lifted, scouted and game-planned as well as he could. Rivers used to finish later in the day, but in early November, when daylight savings ended, the Chargers bumped all their schedules back an hour to remain in routine. By 5, Rivers was back in his brown, leather captain's chair.
More than an hour later, the Escalade pulled back into the driveway. Just as it had been when he had left, the sun was down. Rivers walked into the house, toward his family and dinner.
Not long after, the Rivers family gathered around the table, as they did every time there wasn't Monday or Thursday night football to watch. Their children started with Halle, the oldest at 16, and continued through Caroline, Grace, Gunner, Sarah, Peter, Rebecca and Clare, who was 3. Per Rivers tradition, everyone at dinner shared something from their day.
Quickly, though, it was getting late. The parents started putting their little ones to bed. Rivers had done this yesterday and he would do it tomorrow. The roughly three hours of family time he got every work night was, he truly believed, one of the most important parts of his routine, a key to success on and off the field. Earlier, at his press conference, asked what the Chargers needed to do to win on Sunday, he had given the pat answer about preparation he knew few wanted to hear but that he had devoted himself to: "It's the boring 'One day at a time.' "
Soon, Rivers felt tired himself. 5:40 a.m. was approaching fast. At about 10 p.m., Rivers walked to his room and climbed into bed. His feet left the floor. He had about 84 hours, five minutes until kickoff.
By Sam Fortier Jan 4, 2019
8 An alarm shrieked in the master bedroom of the San Diego home at 5:40 a.m., the same time it did every work morning. Philip Rivers opened his eyes. It was his 22nd week of organized football this season, and he wanted this Wednesday to go like all the other Wednesdays. The 37-year-old loves routine, and consistency now seemed as important as ever. His biggest challenge of the year was approaching fast. For the first time in six seasons, the quarterback was back in the playoffs, and this might be his best chance left to reach the Super Bowl that has eluded him his entire career.
In two days, the Chargers would fly across the country to Baltimore, where Rivers' teammates would rely on him to deliver a win on Sunday by outplaying the NFL's toughest defense, which had stifled and battered him two weeks before.
Rivers' feet hit the floor. He had 100 hours, 25 minutes until kickoff.
Rivers padded through the house. It was quiet. Just before 6, he slipped outside, away from his high-school sweetheart, Tiffany, and their children, who were on school vacation. He slid into one of the two brown, leather captain's chairs in the back of the waiting Cadillac Escalade.
This was his famous, raised-roof ride, the one he bought in 2017, when the Chargers moved to Los Angeles and he stayed in San Diego. For a while, he had scouted Orange County homes closer to the team's new facility in Costa Mesa, but ultimately, he couldn't leave the city he had called home since the franchise drafted him in 2004. Unwilling to sacrifice time with the family or team for his new commute, Rivers bought the SUV, registered it under the name "Hail Mary LLC" and paid Becker Automotive Design in Oxnard close to $200,000 to gut the car and turn it into what he once called the "best QB room I've ever been in."
As the driver piloted Rivers north toward the Route 73 toll road, he flicked on the 40-inch TV, plugged the HDMI cord into his laptop and loaded one of his many film cut-ups of the Ravens defense. Early in the week, he studied tendencies, like which defenders bit on which fakes or what pre-snap movements betrayed their intentions. Last year, he analyzed tape with Kellen Clemens, his backup and road-trip buddy, though Clemens found himself struggling to keep up. Rivers processed the clips faster than anyone the journeyman had ever been around.
"He's always looking for something," Clemens said. "It's an investigation and he's like a detective. He sometimes doesn't even watch what the play does. The rest of us mortals study the film and learn about the defense, watching as fans do, but (for Rivers), those are wasted seconds. You've only got so much time."
This offseason, the Chargers didn't re-sign Clemens, so now Rivers mostly rides alone. Seventy-two-and-a-half miles from his front door, the SUV pulled to a stop inside a gated parking lot. Just as the sun was rising, Rivers popped out and walked into the Hoag Performance Center. Rivers, a bacon-and-eggs guy, grabbed breakfast from the Tender Greens-catered cafeteria and hustled to the bottom-floor quarterback room ahead of the 7:50 meeting with quarterbacks coach Shane Steichen, offensive coordinator Ken Whisenhunt and backups Geno Smith and Cardale Jones.
The group hunkered there, in the room on the opposite wall of the team's reception desk, and scrutinized more video. In 2017, the Bills traded Jones to the Chargers and, after seeing what Rivers saw in a week of normal meetings, Jones said, "I felt like I wasn't in the NFL the year before."
At 9:25 a.m., head coach Anthony Lynn finished his 15-minute, team-wide meeting and released all his gathered coaches and players. Rivers retreated to the quarterbacks room. Sometimes, as position groups worked through the next 85 minutes, players ducked out for treatment, the chiropractor, breakfast leftovers, a phone call or a dip in the tub. Rivers is rarely one of them.
That morning, Rivers led "Protection," a meeting the team doesn't put on the schedule but completes each week whenever it can find the time. Players consider it one of the most vital parts of preparation. Rivers brought in the offensive line first and everyone, including the coaches, watched as the quarterback dissected each blocking assignment on certain plays. Later, the tight ends, running backs and receivers cycled through for the same review.
Rivers used to pore over cut-ups of the defense's blitzes for hours each week with former center Nick Hardwick, who snapped to Rivers from 2004 to 2014. They ferreted out the defense's tells for which type of blitz was coming and rehearsed their calls. Eventually, Hardwick realized Rivers enjoyed picking up a blitz as much as he did throwing a touchdown.
Sometimes, in games, the quarterback and center diagnosed the same defensive look differently and, as the play clock wound down, they chirped back and forth over which protection they needed.
"He always had veto power because he says, 'Hut,' " Hardwick laughed. "But we had it out for about 20 seconds."
At 11:05, the Chargers hit the practice field for "Slide and Glide," an offensive and defensive walk-through. At 11:40, the team took its midday break and Rivers grabbed lunch. Current and former teammates sometimes talk about Rivers' brain like a supercomputer, and they emphasize the importance of "cool down" moments like these so he doesn't "overheat."
At exactly noon, Rivers walked up to the media center's podium for his weekly press conference.
"Well, we've found a way," Rivers said to the first question about how the Chargers finished the regular season with an 8-0 record outside of Los Angeles County. Over the next 13 minutes and three seconds, he never mentioned that he believes he has a "handful of years" left, a sense of mortality he has hinted at several times this season. Instead, Rivers embodied "Nunc Coepi," the Latin slogan on his hat meaning "Now I begin," an urge to live in the moment. Rivers preached preparation to counter Baltimore's blitz-happy defense, blamed all six interceptions in the past three games on his own "really bad throws" and joked he could not comment on what sort of threat a running quarterback like Lamar Jackson posed because "shoot, I certainly don't know from personal experience."
Toward the end, Rivers grinned. The reporters seemed to think the Chargers were big underdogs against the Ravens when, in their last meeting, the teams played opposite roles.
"It's funny," Rivers said. "Two weeks ago, we were the hottest team in football, the front-runners, and now it seems like the scenario is all flipped. Who knows? ... We've got to talk about something for the next five days. Then we'll talk about what actually happened when it happens."
Rivers grimaced and walked away, down the stairs and toward the locker room.
Practice period started at 12:40 p.m. and, soon, players spread out in a long line, inching across the field as they stretched. At 1:03, the airhorn blew. Rivers and his backups, Smith and Jones, jogged to the opposite practice field and shuffled through a makeshift ladder drill of miniature hurdles and rifled throws at the Gilman Gear Drop-In Combonet, with a square opening slightly wider than the circumference of the ball. Later, they took turns lobbing fades toward the back net, angled away from them, and Rivers hit two of three throws.
After practice ended at 2:45, Rivers showered and found the quarterback group for his 3:05, the day's final meeting usually reserved for practice film review. Forty-five minutes later, he was done. He had lifted, scouted and game-planned as well as he could. Rivers used to finish later in the day, but in early November, when daylight savings ended, the Chargers bumped all their schedules back an hour to remain in routine. By 5, Rivers was back in his brown, leather captain's chair.
More than an hour later, the Escalade pulled back into the driveway. Just as it had been when he had left, the sun was down. Rivers walked into the house, toward his family and dinner.
Not long after, the Rivers family gathered around the table, as they did every time there wasn't Monday or Thursday night football to watch. Their children started with Halle, the oldest at 16, and continued through Caroline, Grace, Gunner, Sarah, Peter, Rebecca and Clare, who was 3. Per Rivers tradition, everyone at dinner shared something from their day.
Quickly, though, it was getting late. The parents started putting their little ones to bed. Rivers had done this yesterday and he would do it tomorrow. The roughly three hours of family time he got every work night was, he truly believed, one of the most important parts of his routine, a key to success on and off the field. Earlier, at his press conference, asked what the Chargers needed to do to win on Sunday, he had given the pat answer about preparation he knew few wanted to hear but that he had devoted himself to: "It's the boring 'One day at a time.' "
Soon, Rivers felt tired himself. 5:40 a.m. was approaching fast. At about 10 p.m., Rivers walked to his room and climbed into bed. His feet left the floor. He had about 84 hours, five minutes until kickoff.
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