We’re waiting in the tunnel to take the field, and most of the guys are giving me doleful looks that say,Get your head out of your butt. We’ve got a game to play.
They’re right. Of course they’re right. I need to flip the switch and turn off all thoughts of facing my mother, which I’ll do when we get home to Wisconsin later this evening. I need to stop thinking about Rose too. About her betrayal and how she treated me like she did—not once, but twice.
About the way she looked in my rearview mirror on Thursday night.
I need to block it all out. Iwillblock it all out. Because I’m a professional.
I slap my helmet a couple times and catch Poe’s eye. He’s flanking me on the left. TJ is on my right, and I sense Del behind me with the rest of the offensive line.
“You good?” Poe knocks his shoulder pad into mine.
“Yep. Let’s do this.”
We storm onto the field, and the home team crowd heckles us with a barrage of boos. I’m used to it, and I let their animosity penetrate my skin and seep into my bloodstream. I’ll use it as fuel.
We lose the coin toss, so the ball is in my hands first. Our offense runs three consecutive running plays—likely the offensive coordinator’s conservative decision based on my total lack of focus the past few days. I can’t blame the guy, but when we don’t get the first down, I stomp off the field, heated. The more time I spend on the bench this afternoon, the more time my brain will have to wander, and I don’t need that.
“Let me do my thing, Coach,” I mutter as I walk past him.
He reaches for my arm and stops my progress, yanking me back for a conversation. “Can I trust you?”
I look him in the eye. “Yes.”
He stares back at me and nods. “We’re counting on you.”
He’s right. My own family may have betrayed me, and these guys may not be my blood relatives, but they’ve had my back numerous times over the years. I’m more firmly resolved than ever to play for them and to finish out this game—this season—strong. “I won’t let the team down.”
“Good.” He slaps my shoulder. “You’ll get your chance to prove yourself.”
He’s right again.
Our defense is a bunch of man-eaters, and they force a three and out. Philadelphia’s punter shanks his kick, so we get excellent field position. I run into the offensive huddle, and through my earpiece, my coordinator calls a four verts deep pass play. Basically, our fastest wide receivers are all going to run vertically down the field and get open. I relay the play to the guys, and I can see them salivating.
We break with a clap, and I settle in behind Del. I run through my cadence, and he snaps the ball. I drop back, and the offensiveline protects beautifully, giving my receivers a chance to get all the way down the field and putting stress on the safeties, who can’t keep up with the speed of my guys.
I air out of a throw and feel good about it from the moment it leaves my arm. It drops perfectly into Kennedy’s outstretched hands, in stride, and he high-steps into the end zone.
My adrenaline pumps through my veins as I sprint down the field to celebrate with the team. I glance over to the sidelines, and point at my coach, a wordless thank you for giving me a chance even though I’ve been a complete diva. He points back, and for the first time since Thursday, I feel like I have control over one aspect of my life.
After a blow-out victory in Philly, I’m in much better spirits on the team’s flight home. I can tell that Del, Poe, and TJ want to talk to me about what happened that sent me spiraling, and even though I’m not ready to hash it out yet, I owe them an explanation. We huddle up toward the front of the plane, and I unload everything, from Rose’s official position as a security specialist, to the way she lied to me, to my mother’s manipulation, and the threat on my life.
“Dude, holy crap.” TJ whistles.
“I’m sorry, man,” Poe says.
“There’s a lot to unpack there.” Del has got tears in the corners of his eyes.
“Delly, don’t blubber,” I warn him.
“I know. I’m not trying to. I just want you to be alright, emotionally and physically. Don’t need a crazed attacker taking out my QB.”
I offer him a wry smile. “I’ve had threats like this before, and they all amount to nothing. I’m not that important. I’ll be fine—physically, at least.”
“And emotionally?” he prods.
I shake my head. “I don’t know honestly. The betrayal is still too raw to even process.”
The guys nod, and we fall into silence. I’m zoning out, and my eyes are about to fall closed when I register my teammates whispering amongst themselves.
