Last season, Dan Quinn was haunted. He came to Atlanta to help the Falcons win a Super Bowl. There was a quarterback. A Hall of Fame wide receiver. A new stadium on the way. A multi-million dollar deal. Power over the roster. It all felt too good to be true.
There was a small catch. Developing the roster was a responsibility split between himself and Thomas Dimitroff. Arthur Blank, of course, was above the two of them. Quinn had no idea there was someone above Blank. Or something. That thing was an ancient metal bird with seemingly endless power.