52
orbit landing a head coaching interview missed the
point. McVay is just one branch on a tree that took
root not in Los Angeles but in Ashburn, Va., for an
organization that couldn’t see the genius.
Shanahan, 66, is unofficially retired; he hasn't
coached football since Washington. He says it’s not
for him to gauge how much credit that group deserves.
Perhaps this is more telling: He says he will not write
a book about his career and his philosophies. “Like
with Silicon Valley,” he says. “You think they’re telling
people what they’re doing?” The QB Collective has a
competitive advantage it wants to keep.THE NEXT day, Mike Shanahan leans back on a
metal bench at Westlake High School. It’s a warm
summer morning in Southern California, as dozens of
college quarterback prospects run through drills over-
seen by his adherents. Richmond Flowers III, a member
of that Redskins staff who is now an agent for coaches
(he does not represent Shanahan), started the QB Col-
lective as a way of sharing Shanahan’s philosophies
with all levels of football. None of the men with whistles
hanging around their necks believe they’re the only
visionaries in pro football; this isn’t Al Gore taking
credit for the Internet. But Shanahan is different, always
has been, and that’s how he ended up in Redskins Park.
Explaining his philosophies, Shanahan starts with
his influences. He studied and borrowed from high
school or college coaches, who tend to innovate more
than their pro counterparts; he took some tenets from
Bill Walsh and others from Mike Holmgren, GeorgeThey’re all here, at the dinner, for some-
thing called the QB Collective. It’s an orga-
nization dedicated to quarterback develop-
ment, a program built around the principles
to which they all subscribe. To Shanahan’s
left are Matt LaFleur, the new Packers head
coach, and first-year Broncos offensive co-
ordinator Rich Scangarello; to his right,
the 49ers’ co–offensive coordinators: Mike
McDaniel (run game) and LaFleur’s younger
brother Mike (pass). Absent this evening
are two other prominent members from
that Redskins staff: Shanahan’s son, Kyle,
the boss in San Francisco, and Sean McVay,
the Rams’ wunderkind coach.
These men, once (derisively) labeled
“the Fun Bunch,” either worked for Mike
Shanahan in Redskins Park or apprenticed
under someone who did. They can recite
the quarterbacks who compiled their best
seasons playing in some version of Shana-
han’s timeless system. A partial list includes
everyone from a Hall of Famer (John Elway)
to a league MVP (Matt Ryan) to promising
prospects (Jimmy Garoppolo, Jared Goff)
to several journeymen who briefly shined
(Brian Griese, Matt Schaub and Brian
Hoyer). “It’s the best, most efficient offen-
sive system in pro football,” Scangarello
says. “It makes quarterbacks, not the other
way around.”
The disciples consider Shanahan a mis-
understood offensive genius, and they view
that time in Washington not as the disas-
ter the win-loss record suggests but as the
start of something revolutionary. In a league
where many franchises have been slow to
innovate, and most coaches remain preoccu-
pied with not getting fired, this group seems
preternaturally inclined to take the opposite
approach—which might be why they have
amassed so many pink slips through the
years. Although no one knew then, and few
know even now, the concepts created and
enhanced inside those coaching rooms—and restaurants
and dive bars—have now spread across the NFL and
were used in two of the past three Super Bowls (by Kyle
Shanahan’s Falcons and McVay’s Rams).
All the jokes this past spring about anyone in McVay’sJAM
IE SCH
WABEROW
(M
CVAY); M
ICH
AEL ZAGARIS/SAN FRAN
CISCO 49ERS/GETTY
IMAGES (M
CDAN
IEL, SH
ANAH
AN); Q
UIN
N H
ARRIS/GETTY IM
AGES (LAFLEU
R)
MOVING ON
RG3 (right)
thrived—
briefly—under a
staff featuring
McVay (right,
in white jacket)
and McDaniel
(right, far left).
Above, from top:
McVay, McDaniel,
Kyle Shanahan,
Matt LaFleur.