The blueprints are just sitting there, unguarded, two feet in front of you. Next to them are team rosters covered in hand-scratched notes and a three-page spreadsheet containing salary cap information on every player in the NFL. Under that: pages upon pages of what you're sure is eyes-only text. It's all sitting there for you on the giant, polished, cherry-oak conference table in Philadelphia Eagles president Joe Banner's office. But stealing is wrong, and more than a bit rude since you're here by appointment, working on a story about how the Eagles have so adroitly constructed a championship-caliber team -- from a 3-13 laughingstock in 1998, to 5-11 in 1999, to a playoff team in 2000, to the NFC championship game in 2001, to now, where the word is, right there on the bottom of Donovan McNabb's pager: SEE YA IN SAN DIEGO!

For a moment, the thought does cross your mind: Snag all this info, stuff it into your backpack and Vin Diesel outta here. After all, how much would someone like Texans billionaire owner Bob McNair or Daniel Snyder (he of one-playoff-win-and-four-coaches-in-three-years-owning-the-Redskins fame) pay to get their hands on these plans? You think that window is locked? Damn. Here comes Banner. Everything is ruined.

Or not. You just don't know. Then Banner sits down, loosens his tie and gladly spills the Birds' entire secret blueprint, part by precious part.

Part I: Get a grip on the cap

When he bought the Eagles in 1994, Jeffrey Lurie understood the economics of the game better than most of his NFL peers. In the end, it's not the 300-pound linemen or the thunder-tongued coaches, but the bean counters -- the boyish, bespectacled, balding capologists -- who make or break a franchise. Enter Banner, a 49-year-old childhood friend of Lurie's who was a clothing retailer in Boston and working for City Years, a nonprofit group that promotes social change in major cities.

	Will this be the year McNabb makes The Leap?

Other than the Red Sox games he and Lurie attended as teenagers and a stint as a reporter and producer at a Philly radio station (WCAU), Banner had no background in pro sports. But in the same way Carmen Policy, a lawyer, used a fresh approach to the 49ers, Banner shook the Eagles out of their malaise by thinking outside the huddle.

Everyone else in the still-fresh era of the salary cap and free agency was building rosters with a two-to-three year window of opportunity. Banner saw a way to get good and stay good. After drafting well, he decided, the key was targeting your own players and approaching them about re-upping a year or two early. The idea came straight from Banner's retail days, when he negotiated store leases and contracts for his company. If neither side has leverage, you can strike a much more equitable deal. The player gets bonus millions to invest earlier than expected, and he shifts the risk of injury to the team. In return, the team gets a deal that will cost them less than what the player likely could command in a year or two. Banner also insisted on protecting the Eagles by spreading the money out over roster bonuses and base salaries, rather than the cap-crippling signing bonuses that have ruined teams like the Cowboys and Jaguars. "You've got to admire the way the Eagles have done it," says Giants GM Ernie Accorsi.

In 1998, for example, with director of football operations Tom Modrak in his ear, Banner inked struggling second-year free safety Brian Dawkins to a five-year extension that included a $2.5 million bonus. Banner's phone rang off the hook, with GMs from across the league screaming, "Are you completely nuts?" The next season, though, Dawkins made the Pro Bowl, and he's now a team leader and one of the best safeties in the game.

Banner has repeated this technique across the roster. If coach/GM Andy Reid recommends keeping a player, Banner makes it happen, and so stalwarts like left tackle Tra Thomas, guard John Welbourn, running back Duce Staley and Pro Bowl kicker David Akers are here to stay.

Now, of the top 32 players on a team that was one game away from the last Super Bowl, 25 are signed through 2003. By contrast, of the Ravens' top 32 players from Super Bowl XXXV, 24, including 14 starters, are gone. And midway through the off-season, the Eagles had from $4.5 million to $15 million more cap room than any of the teams -- St. Louis, San Francisco, Washington, Green Bay -- they consider their main NFC competition. The Eagles used that extra cap cash on both sides of the ball, securing safety Blaine Bishop, linebacker Levon Kirkland, running back Dorsey Levens and wideout Antonio Freeman. That's four former Pro Bowlers with Super Bowl experience.

Part II: Find the right coach

After a patchwork roster imploded and went 3-13 under Ray Rhodes in 1998, Banner attacked his coaching search as if it were a master's thesis. He researched the elements that made men like Bill Walsh, Joe Gibbs and Mike Shanahan so successful. He excluded wins, losses and strategies from his criteria, and instead compiled a list of common traits, like strong leadership, discipline, intelligence, organization and strong belief in a system. Then he scoured the league for coaches, regardless of status or experience, who possessed those qualities and came up with ... obscure Packers QB coach Andy Reid.

The decision provoked mixed reviews in Philly: Some people hated it while others thought it stunk. Banner and Lurie were labeled Dumb and Dumber. "Frankly, we were surprised we weren't competing with several other teams for Andy," Banner says. "We're still quite proud about not being struck by the same kinds of blind spots as everyone else. And as far as great moments or difference-makers in team history, the hiring of Andy Reid forever changed this franchise."

Besides his wizardry with the West Coast offense and a reputation for developing passers, Reid has that magical fatherly quality that makes grown men with two commas on their paychecks want to run through brick walls for him. "In this business," says corner Troy Vincent, "it all comes back to chemistry and people who can build it."

The clincher for Lurie, though, was that Reid completely bought into the long-term economic system Banner had created. When your coach and front office aren't on the same page, you become the Atlanta Falcons, who this summer cut running back Jamal Anderson, overpaid for his replacement, Warrick Dunn, and then drafted T.J. Duckett to take Dunn's job. Banner says he breaks down every transaction in the NFL. "I'll call up a GM after a deal that seems out of whack," he says, "and the guy will say, 'I know it's a horrendous deal, but the coach made me feel like we'd be 2-14 if I didn't sign the guy.' In this league it requires tremendous discipline not to fall into the short-term trap."

For Reid, this means making tough, unpopular choices, and being showered with Philly phlattery after drafting McNabb with the No. 2 overall pick in 1999 instead of Ricky Williams, then facing more abuse while bringing McNabb along slowly. "The pressure to play Donovan was immense," says Banner. "But privately, Andy was like, 'I'm working on a five-to-10 year plan here.' " Reid signaled further commitment to long-term growth when he let two-time Pro Bowl linebacker Jeremiah Trotter leave via free agency rather than blow the cap by overpaying for a position the coaches don't consider vital to the Eagles' defensive scheme.

Part III: Get a Franchise player

The boos that greeted his drafting had barely subsided, and the new quarterback already had his nose buried in the team playbook while he rode in the back of a limo from New York to Philly on April 17, 1999. Since then, in just 38 starts, McNabb has accounted for 8,970 yards of offense and taken the Eagles from 5-11 his first season to back-to-back 11-5 campaigns and the 2001 NFC East title.

	The Eagles are hoping Levens brings a little Packer magic.

But stats alone don't really do McNabb justice. He's become the prototype quarterback of the new millennium, an MVP candidate, a rare mix of talent, character and personality that transcends the game. As Vincent points out, a difference-maker doesn't have to be a quarterback. In Baltimore, it's Ray Lewis. In St. Louis, it's Marshall Faulk. In Kansas City, it's Tony Gonzalez. But in Philly, it's The Don. "Donovan wasn't one piece of the puzzle here, he was a big portion of it," says Vincent. "Because before Donovan, it was miserable here. We were the laughingstock of the community. Shoot, the whole country."

Vincent, who started his career under Don Shula in Miami, compares McNabb to his former teammate Dan Marino.

"Don Shula used to say, 'We have a 70% chance to win just because we have No. 13,' " Vincent says. "Well, once we got a steady diet of Donovan, that was it. That was when this franchise turned around. Donovan completed this puzzle. He brought life back to the Philadelphia Eagles because he gave us one thing: hope."

These days the score doesn't matter; nor does the down, the distance or the time. With McNabb, Philly always feels like it can win. "Before he got here, we got busted up every week," Vincent says. "Now? You hear people talk about the Super Bowl and how we should be there."

Part IV: Get the scheme for the dream

Before taking the job, Reid broke down film on every Eagle from every game during the previous two seasons. "On offense we had a good left tackle in Tra Thomas," Reid says, recalling those film sessions. Then his voice trails off and his eyebrows jump, waiting for you to prompt the straight line.

And, Coach?

"And, well, that was about it."

Defense, though, was different. Reid prioritizes positions, starting with linemen on both sides of the ball, then quarterback and defensive backs. So in Reid's mind, the Eagles defense was loaded. Dawkins jumped off the screen, as did Vincent and his partner, Bobby Taylor. Up front they had a dominant end in Hugh Douglas. And in 2000 they used their top pick on tackle Corey Simon, a voracious space eater who's already notched 17 sacks. All they needed was a scheme with some swagger to ignite that explosive talent, rather than the bend-but-don't-break plan used under Rhodes.

Enter 43-year coaching vet Jim Johnson. In Green Bay, Reid kept a meticulous journal for each season, chock full of ideas, plays, poems, drawings and fantasy coaching staffs that always included Johnson. A longtime defensive coach at Notre Dame and with the Cardinals and Colts, Johnson takes a swarming, Gatling gun approach to defense. Matching his personality.

When they were still working out the kinks in Johnson's new defense during a preseason game against Cleveland in 2000, Douglas jumped onto the field after a teammate had lost a shoe. But he didn't know the play and the Browns hit for a 20-yard gain. Johnson tracked him down on the sideline and filled his face mask with serious sewage. "I'm used to cussing," says Douglas, a two-time Pro Bowl starter who led the team in sacks (9.5) and hurries (27) in 2001. "But damn, that guy got in my jock. He hurt my feelings. And it was a pre- season game! All I could think was, he's intense about his defense … this is gonna be fun."

At first, Johnson's defense was designed to shorten the field and keep games close while McNabb grew into his role. Once McNabb was ready, Johnson let go of the reins, and the Eagles defense blossomed in 2001, setting a franchise mark and finishing second in the NFL with 208 points allowed. "The Eagles have one nasty-ass defense," says Cowboys safety Darren Woodson. "We watch film of the Eagles and go, 'That's how we want to play right there.'"

Part V: Don't stand pat

While most teams understand the need to replenish their rosters with young, inexpensive talent, the Eagles have taken it a step further. They work free agency with aplomb, and they don't just draft well each April, they uncover franchise cornerstones, like Taylor (1995), Dawkins (1996), McNabb (1999) and Simon (2000), and necessities, like defensive backs Lito Sheppard, Michael Lewis and Sheldon Brown (2002).

The mixing of free agents and talented draftees has worked for the offensive line, as well. Philly took right guard Jermane Mayberry in the first round in 1996, landed franchise tackle Thomas in 1998 and, in 1999, uncovered left guard John Welbourn in the fourth round. Then it came time to find that final piece for the offensive line.

On a shelf above Reid's desk is a bobblehead doll of Philly sports legend John Chaney. The plastic lookalike of Temple's gravel-voiced hoops coach is perched over Reid's right shoulder like a guardian angel. In February 2000, Reid was entertaining coveted free agent tackle Jon Runyan at a steakhouse on South Broad Street when Chaney charged up to the table to give Runyan and his wife, Loretta, their official Philly-style welcome. "Remember, you're coming here for these coaches," chortled Chaney. "Don't come here for these fans. Because I hate these fans. I've been here all my life and I hate them all."

"He was absolutely beautiful," recalls Reid.

The 6'7", 330-pound Runyan, a high school hoops star in Flint, Mich., and a fan of Chaney's, signed three days later for $30.5 million over six years. Banner admits to overpaying for Runyan, but he did so because it sent a clear message to McNabb about the team's commitment. Reid also knew Runyan's take-no-prisoners style would set the tone for the offense. "We had things in place already," McNabb says. "But they still went and got a big name like Runyan, a nasty blocker who would just maul people, with an attitude that rubbed off on everyone."

The Eagles didn't stand pat this off-season, either. The goal is to overtake the Rams for NFC supremacy. That's why they picked three defensive backs in the draft and signed veterans Bishop, Kirkland, Levens and Freeman.

"All of a sudden," says McNabb, "you can see the pieces are in place -- let's do this."

He'll see you in San Diego.

This article appears in the September 16 issue of ESPN The Magazine.