don’t know much about football.”
“Me, either,” Rikki put in. “We’re total neophytes. I hope you’re not embarrassed to be sitting near us.”
Holly grinned. “Oh, no. Believe me, I’ve been there. I used to hate football, even when my own son started playing. But eventually I got interested. It’s actually pretty fun when you get into it. Would you like me to explain things to you?”
“That would be great.”
“All right.” She pointed toward the Panthers players. “That’s Will, of course—number 12.”
I hadn’t actually spotted him before. The players all looked the same to me in their uniforms and helmets, and I’d forgotten about the numbers on their jerseys.
I looked where Holly was pointing and my heart skipped a beat.
I’d never seen Will in uniform before. The pads and everything made him look big and powerful, and the way his pants hugged his butt…
I shouldn’t be thinking about his butt. Not with his mother sitting right next to me.
“See those three players lining up across the field? Those are his receivers. They’re about to run some practice routes.”
I called up my sketchy knowledge of the game. “The receivers catch the passes, right?”
“Right.”
Just then Will cocked his arm back and threw. Seeing the perfect arc of the ball, its tight spiraling motion in the air, and the way it landed with flawless precision in the arms of the player catching it, I felt a tingle run through all my nerve endings.
I’d never thought there could be any poetry to football. But maybe I was wrong.
“That was good, wasn’t it?” I asked.
Holly laughed. “Yes, that was good.”
“Damn good,” Alex put in. “He looks sharp today.”
“My husband was his high school coach, so he likes to take credit for Will’s arm.”
“Not his strength,” Alex said with a grin. “Just his accuracy.”
I started to ask another question, but just then the players jogged off the field and the band started to play.
“We’ll be kicking off soon,” Holly said. She sat up a little straighter and I saw energy sparking from her very pores. All around us, I could feel the same kind of energy coming from the fans. They started a chant I couldn’t understand until they got to the Panthers, Panthers, Panthers! part.
It reminded me of something. Then, as the announcer started calling out the names of the players and they came out of the tunnel on the other side of the field, I realized what it was.
The fans all surged to their feet and Rikki and I surged with them. It was impossible not to.
Just like at a rock concert.
Okay, so maybe Will had a point.
* * *
It turns out that football is exciting. Thrilling. Even terrifying sometimes, like when a bunch of really, really big guys in bright red jerseys swarm toward a friend of yours.
Every time it happened my heart leapt into my mouth. A few times Will just barely got the ball away, either in a handoff to a running back or in a pass, before being knocked to the ground. He was sacked twice, the second time so brutally that I grabbed Holly’s arm before I realized what I was doing.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I said, snatching my hand away.
Holly shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I know exactly how you feel.” She put her arm around my shoulders and squeezed.
On the field, Andre grabbed Will’s hand and hauled him to his feet.
“There, see?” Holly said. “He’s getting up. He’s fine.”
Another thing that made the game tense—and gripping—was how close it was. The first half ended with the Panthers down by three. We came out in the second half and scored a touchdown, and it was looking like we might win by four when the other team scored in the fourth quarter.
We were down by three again with a minute left in the game.
“They’ll play for a tie and overtime,” Alex said. “All Will has to do is get them into field goal range. They’ve got a good kicker.”
And for a few plays it looked like that
“Me, either,” Rikki put in. “We’re total neophytes. I hope you’re not embarrassed to be sitting near us.”
Holly grinned. “Oh, no. Believe me, I’ve been there. I used to hate football, even when my own son started playing. But eventually I got interested. It’s actually pretty fun when you get into it. Would you like me to explain things to you?”
“That would be great.”
“All right.” She pointed toward the Panthers players. “That’s Will, of course—number 12.”
I hadn’t actually spotted him before. The players all looked the same to me in their uniforms and helmets, and I’d forgotten about the numbers on their jerseys.
I looked where Holly was pointing and my heart skipped a beat.
I’d never seen Will in uniform before. The pads and everything made him look big and powerful, and the way his pants hugged his butt…
I shouldn’t be thinking about his butt. Not with his mother sitting right next to me.
“See those three players lining up across the field? Those are his receivers. They’re about to run some practice routes.”
I called up my sketchy knowledge of the game. “The receivers catch the passes, right?”
“Right.”
Just then Will cocked his arm back and threw. Seeing the perfect arc of the ball, its tight spiraling motion in the air, and the way it landed with flawless precision in the arms of the player catching it, I felt a tingle run through all my nerve endings.
I’d never thought there could be any poetry to football. But maybe I was wrong.
“That was good, wasn’t it?” I asked.
Holly laughed. “Yes, that was good.”
“Damn good,” Alex put in. “He looks sharp today.”
“My husband was his high school coach, so he likes to take credit for Will’s arm.”
“Not his strength,” Alex said with a grin. “Just his accuracy.”
I started to ask another question, but just then the players jogged off the field and the band started to play.
“We’ll be kicking off soon,” Holly said. She sat up a little straighter and I saw energy sparking from her very pores. All around us, I could feel the same kind of energy coming from the fans. They started a chant I couldn’t understand until they got to the Panthers, Panthers, Panthers! part.
It reminded me of something. Then, as the announcer started calling out the names of the players and they came out of the tunnel on the other side of the field, I realized what it was.
The fans all surged to their feet and Rikki and I surged with them. It was impossible not to.
Just like at a rock concert.
Okay, so maybe Will had a point.
* * *
It turns out that football is exciting. Thrilling. Even terrifying sometimes, like when a bunch of really, really big guys in bright red jerseys swarm toward a friend of yours.
Every time it happened my heart leapt into my mouth. A few times Will just barely got the ball away, either in a handoff to a running back or in a pass, before being knocked to the ground. He was sacked twice, the second time so brutally that I grabbed Holly’s arm before I realized what I was doing.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I said, snatching my hand away.
Holly shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. I know exactly how you feel.” She put her arm around my shoulders and squeezed.
On the field, Andre grabbed Will’s hand and hauled him to his feet.
“There, see?” Holly said. “He’s getting up. He’s fine.”
Another thing that made the game tense—and gripping—was how close it was. The first half ended with the Panthers down by three. We came out in the second half and scored a touchdown, and it was looking like we might win by four when the other team scored in the fourth quarter.
We were down by three again with a minute left in the game.
“They’ll play for a tie and overtime,” Alex said. “All Will has to do is get them into field goal range. They’ve got a good kicker.”
And for a few plays it looked like that
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