Saunders plans to use the whole book, depending on defenses and how much his own players evolve. Through the first two weeks of camp, he hadn't called the same play two days in a row.
"We'll go into a game with 250 to 300," he said. "It's what separates us from a lot of offenses."
Asked by a visitor how it's possible to keep that many plays simple enough for players to process quickly and execute under pressure, Saunders pulls the cap off a felt-tip marker and reaches for a notebook.
"This is about as basic as you can get," he says, smiling, "not giving anything away."
In an instant, the page is loaded with circles, lines and what could pass for a Russian code. Some are mere dashes that slant left, representing offensive linemen. Others, representing receivers, are drawn with sharp angles and dart down and out, down and in. A couple of sweeping strokes are running backs floating into the flat.
Queen Right Jet Right 940 F Corner Swing
"We've just told all 11 players everything they need to know," he says proudly.
Queen Right and Jet Right set the formation and tell the line how to slant its blocks. The 940 is only slightly more complicated. The Redskins label their receivers X, Y, and Z, depending on where they line up. The X receiver listens for the first number, the Y receiver for the second, the Z receiver for the third. Even-numbered routes break in; odd-numbered routes break out; the higher the number, the deeper the pattern. F Swing tells the fullback to run a short corner.
"We don't even have to mention 'H,' " Saunders says, meaning the halfback. "He knows he's always last."
Suddenly, he's drawing again; same play, different words.
Brown Right 2 Jet Flanker Drive
"Bill Walsh's West Coast version," he explains, hoping the visitor will recognize the difference. He doesn't.
"He's told the flanker what to do, but no one else; they have to memorize their routes," Saunders explained. "We tell everybody what to do on every play, yet our verbiage is short and simple."
That simplicity enables Saunders to change formations on every down if he desires. He'll switch from two backs to two tight ends to three receivers to four receivers, hoping to create mismatches. It makes halftime adjustments easier, too. Basic formations stay the same, but overbearing defenses can be compromised just by changing a route number.
Where it gets tricky is that there are virtually no audibles: The quarterback and receivers must read the defense quickly and make pre-assigned adjustments.
At their best, Saunders' offenses never take what the defense gives; they take what they want.
"Sid Gillman and Don Coryell set the standard for aggressive offensive coaches," Saunders said. "They were my mentors. I was like a sponge soaking up information. Don was so creative, so open to new things. When it came to offense, he was a visionary."
He had to be. As coach at San Diego State from 1961-72, Coryell had the thankless task of competing for players with a slew of high-profile programs in California and neighboring states. One of his first tactical decisions was to heavily recruit junior-college players. That's how he came across Gibbs, a tight end from Cerritos College.
But JUCOs often entered school late; some showed up unannounced. They were eligible to play, but there was little time to teach them.
"Coryell figured if a guy could count from 1 to 9, and he knew 9 was a real deep route, and 8s were posts, 4s broke in... he could tell that guy what to do," Saunders said. "They might not run the right distances, but he could get him out there and work on that later in practice. So he'd tell guys, 'Just remember one number, and we'll be fine.' "
It worked so well that in 12 seasons at San Diego State, Coryell went undefeated three times. When he got to the Chargers, the old Aztec offense got a new, glitzier name: "Air Coryell."
Saunders' message today is much the same as Coryell delivered 45 years ago. He wants to play fast-break football, the kind he fell in love with as a kid in California. You'll love it, too, he'll tell you, if you just trust in him.