Will You be our Mommy?

Chapter 1

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December 27, 2015 – Edward Jones Stadium, St. Louis, MO

The Rams fans quieted as the referee signaled for the clock to start. It clicked down from 1:09. We had very little time left to make up the 27-21 deficit we faced. Aaron Morano, the all-pro cornerback and close friend and college teammate of my brother, Kyle, was lined up a yard across from me at my split-end spot.

Nate Cook, our slot receiver in his third year, was lined up about four yards closer to the tackle than me. Our quarterback, Dylan Harris, barked out the first cadence. Nate ran across the field behind our formation, ending up in the slot between our tight end, second-year player Clay Wicks, and our flanker, Mike Wimberly. The nickel back followed Nate.

I suppressed a smile as I glanced in towards the middle of our formation. Dylan looked my way and gave me a half smile. We understood each other. My go route was now a slant over the middle. The 49ers were planning press, man coverage. We had them out-foxed.

Dylan barked again and took the snap. I juked to my left like I was going deep down the sideline. I used my left arm to scrape Aaron’s jam attempt away from my torso. I darted right as Aaron tried to recover position on me again. My slant route made that impossible.

Dylan dropped back five steps, scanned the field and spotted me coming open. He rifled the ball between two defensive linemen. Dylan perfectly anticipated my speed, allowing me to snatch ball out of the air as I ran by it. I kicked into high gear and sprinted downfield.

Navorro Bowman, one of the 49er’s inside linebackers, took a shot at tackling me, missing badly. He had been in a poor position to get me. I knew Aaron wouldn’t be more than a half yard behind me. He had 0.02-0.03 seconds speed advantage on me in the 40, but that wasn’t enough for him to catch me after he missed the jam. The 49ers free safety had rotated over to help cover Mike Wimberly on the deep go route Mike ran on the opposite side of the field. Aaron had been responsible for covering me by himself the whole game, as was appropriate for an all-pro corner covering a rookie wide receiver.

I pushed my legs hard, trying to maintain my separation from Aaron. I saw a blur in gold and blue come alongside me then I heard the hit behind me. I chanced a glance back. Clay Wicks had pancaked Aaron Morano. I angled towards the left corner of the end zone and motored the rest of the way, untouched. The Rams crowd cheered me the last ten or fifteen yards before I scored the touchdown. I held the ball aloft to celebrate when I reached the end zone.

I scanned the crowd on the left side of the stadium, wishing to catch sight of my parents, my sister, Liz, my little five-year-old brother, Hunter, and my twin sons, Noah and Connor. They were storm-stayed in Denver instead of here in the stands watching me play. Dylan, Mike, Clay and Nate swamped me to congratulate me, driving thoughts of my family away for a bit. I managed to toss the ball to the referee before the five of us jogged off the field. Mark Briggs, our kicker in his thirteenth season, made the PAT easily. Score: Rams-28, 49ers-27.

0:44 remained on the clock when Mark kicked the ball back to the 49ers. He hit a boomer. The returner let it bounce about a yard short of the back end of the end zone when it came down. The 49ers needed to go 80 yards to score a touchdown to clinch their fourth straight division title. The 49ers made us sweat, but our defense held, just barely. The game ended when their normally very reliable kicker thumped the 59 yard attempt a little too low. Darrian Newton swatted the ball away as it flew over his head.

“Can you believe it, Andrew?” Dylan Harris asked as he hugged me on the sidelines. “You did real good… real good for a rookie.”

“Thanks, Dylan,” I answered. “You make it easy for me with your quarterbacking.”

“Thanks, man,” Dylan replied. “Can you believe this? We were 2-5 and then 3-6 at mid-season. Everyone wrote us off. This win makes us 8-7. If we kick Seattle’s backside next Sunday, we will get into the playoffs for sure.”

“I know, man,” I agreed. “It’s been a long time coming for this team.”

Dylan and I, and the rest of our team wandered out onto the field to talk with our opponents. Aaron was one of the first persons I encountered.

“Damn, you’re getting to be as hard to cover as Kyle is,” Aaron said as he shook my hand. “I’m glad you don’t have more brothers coming up. You and Kyle are enough for me right now.”

“Will never had much interest in football and is a little old to start now,” I replied. “Hunter likes football, but I doubt you’ll still be playing when he or my boys turn twenty-two.”

“How old are your boys?” Aaron asked.

“They’re six,” I answered. “They should have been here today. Mom and Dad took our family to Denver to spend Christmas with Kyle, Penny and David. They should have arrived here last night but that big snowstorm in Colorado forced them to spend another couple days in Denver. They’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”

“Tell your family I said hi,” Aaron said. “Good luck against the Seahawks next week.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “Good luck against Arizona next weekend. Tell Ed Fritz I said hi.”

“I’ll do that,” Aaron agreed as he gave me a wink. “Right after I pick off one of his passes.”

I mingled with more of the 49er players, accepting congratulations on our victory and my game winning TD. I talked briefly with a couple other rookie players I met at the NFLPA Rookie symposium last June. Channels 2 (ABC) and 4 (CBS) interviewed me before I headed into the locker room.

----oooOooo----

I guess I should take a moment to introduce myself. I am Andrew Martin, the middle child of Dan and Sharon Martin’s five children. We were raised in Paradise, Pennsylvania in a middle class and thoroughly conventional home. My oldest half-brother, Will Henry, is a physics instructor at Princeton. Will expects to complete his doctorate in astrophysics this coming spring.

I’m sure you already heard of my brother, Kyle, far and away the most famous of the Martin clan. Kyle decided to try out for football when he started high school. He made our varsity team as a ninth grader and has excelled at every level he’s played at since that first day eleven years ago. He made All-American in both high school and college. He was recruited by the top college football schools like USC, LSU, Michigan and Penn State. Kyle broke virtually every record for receiving, scoring and all-purpose yards in the NCAA during his four years at Penn State. Kyle won the Biletnikoff and Maxwell Awards and was the runner-up for the Heisman Trophy. The Denver Broncos picked him with the sixth pick of the 2013 draft. My brother excelled in Denver, helping his team to the Super Bowl and himself to three Pro Bowls in his first three seasons.

I am the “Other Martin” when people talk about our family. I was more of an indoors person than Kyle when we were younger. I loved playing computer games then. Still do, actually. I was first attracted to football for the mental aspects – the strategies, the game planning, how does this play work against that defense?

To my surprise, I found I had some physical talents to complement my mental skills. I am tall, have long legs and can run fast. Coach Kelly, formerly of the Eagles, said it best. “Big guys beat up little guys.” I’m a big guy at 6-5” and 215 pounds. I have a couple inches and 5-10 pounds on Aaron Morano. It made the difference on my final touchdown. He couldn’t jam me at the line of scrimmage. I got loose and Aaron, in spite of his excellent speed, couldn’t keep up and make a play on the ball. Touchdown and we win! In fairness to the 49ers coaches, it wasn’t bad call to try and jam me. It worked two months earlier when we played them out in San Francisco. We lost 41-26. Aaron Morano held me to two catches and no touchdowns that evening.

My brother, Kyle, mentored me and helped me develop into a good high school receiver. I enjoyed the perks of high school stardom too – particularly the girls. I was a regular lothario in middle school and high school. I bedded cheerleaders two and three years old than me, the prettiest girls in my classes and just about anybody in a skirt. My wild and careless ways caught up with me eventually, as they always do.

I got my girlfriend du jour pregnant just before we started tenth grade. Crystal wasn’t prepared to raise a baby. I wasn’t either. It turned out Crystal was pregnant with twins. Thank God my parents were willing to shoulder the burden from my mistakes and raise my sons. Noah and Connor are six years old now and my delight.

The past six months I’ve been in St. Louis and my twins were living with Mom and Dad in Paradise have been hell – for them and for me. I really need to find a wife and a step-mother to help care for the twins so we can live like a normal family. My quest has been challenging.

High school girls were NOT interested in me back then. Who wants to date the father of two babies? College girls weren’t any more interested in dating a father either. I meet a little less resistance now that I’m out of school when I mention my boys, but it is still a factor. I also suspect the $18.8 million contract I signed last spring makes me more attractive.

Well, that is the cross I bear – willingly and gladly. Noah and Connor are the light of my life… and they will be in St. Louis tomorrow morning!

I have a younger sister, Liz, who is a junior at Princeton, studying pre-law, and a five-year-old brother, Hunter, who is my boys’ constant companion in everything. I pick up Liz, Hunter, Noah, Connor and my parents at the airport at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.

----oooOooo----

Coach Tolbert was assembling the team in the locker room after I cleared off the field.

“That was a tremendous win, everyone,” Coach announced the boisterous locker room. “Just tremendous! Today is not the time to celebrate. This team has more work to do to reach the goals we set at the beginning of the year. We can’t catch the Niners for division lead. They’re still 10-5 with today’s loss. We’re 8-7 and probably tied with Seattle. I haven’t heard the score of Seattle’s game yet.”

“Hey, Coach,” Marcus Waldron, our starting tailback, called out. “I got the results on my phone. The Cards upset the Seahawks 23-21 a few minutes ago.” The announcement was met with cheers from the entire team. Silently I mouthed, ‘Way to go, Ed.’ Ed Fritz was my neighbor growing up, my brother Kyle’s best friend and now the second year QB leading the Cardinals.

“OK… OK… everyone,” Coach Tolbert shouted. “Calm down. This puts a new face on things. Next Sunday afternoon we host the Seahawks. If we take care of business and win, we go to the playoffs. Once we reach the playoffs, anything is possible. I am so proud of this team the way you hung together after our horrendous 2-5 start. You went 6-2 in the past two months. This team is coming together, growing and ready to seize the future.” The team cheered our head coach’s words.

“I have three game balls today,” Coach Tolbert announced. “Lavonn Dixon, you did a great job stuffing the middle and shutting down Frank Gore.” Coach tossed the 6’-8”, 330 pound nose guard a ball. “Dylan… Dylan Harris, you had a hell of a game – 402 yards passing, 3 TDs and no interceptions. THAT is how it is done.” Coach tossed a ball to our leader and QB as the team cheered the well-deserved honor.

“Last game ball goes to… Andrew Martin,” Coach announced. “That last play was a clinic on how to beat press coverage. Game ball for the winning TD.” Coach tossed me my trophy ball as my teammates around me slapped me on the back and congratulated me. Coach Tolbert laughed. “Andrew, you and your brother, along with maybe two other receivers in the league are able to do what you did to the best cornerback in the NFC. Great job!”

“One more thing, everyone,” Coach continued. “You have tomorrow morning off. Come in at 1:00 PM for film study of today’s game. We have things we need to correct to move this team ahead. You have Tuesday off. We will be back to our normal practice schedule Wednesday through Saturday. Come in Wednesday morning with recharged batteries. We have a lot of work to do to prepare for Seattle.”

Everyone cheered the time off. We needed the time to heal our aches and bruises from a long season. My brother, Kyle, warned me how long the NFL season would be. I was feeling it, to an extent. I had one advantage over my fellow rookies from the bigger, FBS schools. My high school team regularly played fourteen or fifteen games, if you counted the playoffs. My Wolverines won two state championships and played in the semi-finals my other two years on varsity.

My FCS Delaware Blue Hens did well while I attended the university. We played fifteen games the year we won the FCS National Championship. We played deep into the FCS playoffs the other three years. This game today was my nineteenth since the beginning of August. I had at least one or two more to go. Rest tomorrow morning and Tuesday would be welcome.

The team showered and changed. Clay Wicks, probably my closest friend on the team since I joined it six months ago, announced, “Hey Andy. Taylor, Jake, Chris, Barry Lee and I plan to head over to Frank’s Smokehouse for dinner and some beer. You interested in coming?”

Frank’s Smokehouse was a barbecue place and pub near our training facilities. It served some of the best barbecue on this side of St. Louis… and that is saying something in St. Louis.

“I don’t know,” I allowed. “I got to call my boys before bedtime. Maybe I’ll skip this one.”

“ANDREW!” Jake insisted. “You’re coming!” Jacob Sanders was a second year player and our #5 wide receiver. Jake didn’t get a lot of playing time.

“Drew, you gotta come,” Taylor Wood added. “Call your boys from the parking lot. That ‘cue… you gotta come.” Taylor Wood was our rookie QB. Dylan Harris and Mark Shaeffer, his backup, never missed a game. Taylor hadn’t played a down on the field since preseason.

“Frank’s ribs… that sauce… You got to come, Andrew,” Chris Cobb, our second year, #3 tight end added. “I know you love those ribs.” I did.

“You’re going, Andrew,” Barry Lee Smith, our rookie nickel back stated. “You’re going even if I have to hog-tie you and throw you in the back of my pick-up.” My friends broke up at that. The image of a 5’-10”, 175 pound defensive back hog tying me, seven inches taller and more than forty pounds heavier was ludicrous.

“OK, I’ll go,” I relented. “Promise me you won’t make a fuss when I go outside to say good night to my boys. I don’t want them to forget about me.”

“You call them every night, Andrew,” Clay said. “They’re not going to forget you if you missed one night.”

“It’s important to me and to them,” I countered. “You’ll see when you have kids of your own.”

My friends conceded to my point. We finished dressing and headed off for Frank’s in our various cars or trucks. The six of us had become good friends in the past year. We were an incongruous lot at first glance, three big white guys, a burly black guy and two short black guys. Jake, 6-2”, 205 pounds, Chris, 6’-4”, 245 pounds and me at 6’-5”, 215 pounds, were the white half of our gang. Clay went 6’-3”, 250 pounds was African-American, as were our shorter black friends, Barry Lee and Taylor. Taylor was 5’-11” and 195 pounds. Barry Lee was generously listed as 5’-10” and 175 pounds. Hah! Only if he stood on a phone book and wore a wet towel when they measured and weighed him.

The six of us were the young guns brought in to help Dylan Harris bring the Rams respectability and show Dylan belonged among the elite quarterbacks in our league – that his name could be mentioned along with Brady, the Manning brothers, Brees, Rasmussen, Kaepernick and Joe Flacco, especially my fellow Blue Hen, Joe Flacco. Joe had become a friend and mentor since I helped our college team win the FCS National Championship. The Rams weren’t the “Greatest Show on Turf” anymore but we showed promise – much more than the previous decade of bad Rams teams.

The six of us hopped on I-70. The crowds from the stadium had mostly departed, so the roads were relatively clear. We followed the interstate past our training facility and got off at the first exit after the Missouri River. Frank’s BBQ & Pub was a few blocks north, facing the river. Nancy, the hostess, greeted us warmly. We were no strangers to this pub.

We grabbed a booth, perused the menu briefly and placed our orders. I went for the pork and beef platter. I had a light lunch seven hours ago, played a football game and was starving. The other guys ordered generous platters too. Soon we were chowing down on salads, potatoes, cole slaw and Frank’s delicious ‘cue.

A steady stream of patrons stopped by our table to congratulate us on our victory over the 49ers. Clay, Barry Lee and I were most recognized. Poor Taylor went totally unrecognized. Such is the lot of a free agent rookie QB at the bottom of the depth chart. We signed autographs, chatted with our fans and let them take our pictures as we ate.

We amiably analyzed our game as we enjoyed the relaxing meal. We are single twenty-somethings, so of course we scoped out the talent at the bar end of the pub. There was a nice selection of ladies here tonight. Some of the bolder ladies stopped by our table to flirt. The guys ate it up.

I noticed one lady over at the bar as we were eating. I caught her checking me out multiple times – me, not the whole group of guys. She gave me a smile and a small wave the last time I caught her staring. She was altogether quite attractive. She was probably around 5’-8” tall and well built. I doubted I would find Noah and Conner a stepmom at a pub but I might find someone to help me with my more immediate problem. I was a normal, red-blooded male of twenty-two and hadn’t gotten laid in over a month. I decided to give her a try after I finished my dinner. I sent a drink over to her. She gave me a big smile and waved me over to join her.

“Please join me,” she said with a big smile as she indicated the stool beside her at the bar.

“I’m Andrew Martin,” I replied as I sat down.

“I thought I recognized you,” she answered. “I knew the six of you…” chuckling, “… at your size and in this pub, you had to be Rams players. I’m Kelsey… Kelsey Sullivan.”

“It’s very good to meet you, Kelsey,” I answered. “Are you a football fan? I’m slightly surprised you knew who I was.”

“You’ve done very well this season, Andrew,” Kelsey said. “I am a casual fan, but I do keep up with what’s going on with our team. I watched on TV when you scored that touchdown to win the game today. You were great… such a big, strong man.” I noticed how she drew out the word ‘man’ to emphasize it. I hadn’t misread Kelsey’s intentions.

We chatted, getting to know each other better. Kelsey was twenty-one and a nursing student. She would graduate in May. She was from St. Louis. She shared an apartment about a mile away with another nursing student. The roommate was from Peoria and was home for the holidays.

Kelsey inquired about my background. She was curious about my connection to the Amish, which was minimal. The local press played up my Lancaster County, Pennsylvania Plain People background when I was drafted, much as the Denver press did with my brother, Kyle, who was nicknamed “Amish Lightning.”

The local press loved the ‘Cowboy throwing the ball to the Amishman’ angle in their stories about Dylan Harris and me. Dylan is from Austin, Texas, but he is more of a suburban than a rural Texan. I have no Amish blood but my dad’s side of the family is entirely Mennonite, though most of my relatives no longer attend that church. Kelsey was interested as I explained the difference between the Amish and the Mennonites.

We found we had another common interest, camping. Her family camped all the time when she was growing up. Mine did too. I was active in Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts and Venturers growing up. I just managed to finish my Eagle Scout award before the twins were born. Becoming a father took too much of my time when I was sixteen and seventeen to stay active in Scouting after my Eagle award.

Kelsey and I continued to get to know each other. I hadn’t misread her intentions earlier in the evening when I approached her. She was looking for a little fun that evening, same as me. This started out as a one-night-stand for me but I felt an unexpected connection with Kelsey. Could this become more than a roll in the hay?

I mustered my courage and decided to see. It was a few minutes after 8:30 PM and my goodnight call to my twin sons was overdue.

“I like you a lot, Kelsey,” I explained. “I think honesty is the best policy.”

“Certainly,” she agreed.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” I said. “I would love to take time to know you intimately…” She smiled at my suggestion. “…tonight. There is one critical thing I need to do before we consider going back to my place. I have to make a phone call.”

“You’re married?” Kelsey asked. I shook my head no. “Serious girlfriend?”

“I’m completely unattached,” I answered. Kelsey smiled in relief. “I need to call my twin six-year-old sons to say good night.”

“Six-year-olds?” Kelsey asked in disbelief. “I thought you would be like, twenty-two or three…”

“I will turn twenty-three in a couple weeks,” I answered. Kelsey stared at me in shock.

“You were…”

“Sixteen when they were born,” I confirmed. “A result of my misspent high school years.”

“Sixteen?” Kelsey replied. “That’s young to be a father. Why are you telling me all of this?”

“You’re gorgeous,” I answered. “I’d love to get to know you better, but for more than one night.”

“Whoa… whoa… whoa!” Kelsey stammered. “No. If you’re looking for someone to become a mom to your kids… no!”

“I’m not looking for a mother for my children,” I protested. “You’re pretty. You’re interesting. I think we could hit it off if we gave us time to know each other better. That’s all I am looking for.”

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” Kelsey replied. “It’s been interesting, Andrew. Thank you for the drinks and the conversation.” I didn’t try to change Kelsey’s mind.

“My pleasure,” I said as she stood and left. Clay caught the interaction and just shook his head at me. I shrugged my shoulders back. This was far from the first time I had been shot down by revealing my status as a father of two young boys. What the hell? I did want to find the right lady eventually to share my life and my sons’ lives. I couldn’t start a serious relationship by hiding my boys. They were too much a part of my life to do that.

I stepped outside to call Denver where I would have a little less noise to disrupt my conversation. I recognized my sister-in-law, Penny, immediately when she answered the phone.

“Penny, it’s Andy,” I stated. “Am I too late to say goodnight to the twins?” She laughed.

“They’re getting their jammies on under protest,” Penny replied. “They refuse to go to bed until you called. I’ll get them on the phone for you.”

“Daddy?” I recognized Noah instantly.

“Hey, buddy, are you giving Mom-Mom and Pop-Pop trouble about going to bed?”

“No, Daddy,” Noah answered. “We’re being good.”

“That’s what I expect,” I said.

Connor and I watched you p’ay [play] today,” Noah said. “You did good on that ‘ast touchdown.”

“Speak clearly, Noah.”

“You did good on that LAST touchdown, Daddy.”

“I wish you were here to see it,” I said. “Are you ready for bed now?”

“Yeah, Daddy,” Noah agreed.

“Good night, Noah,” I said. “Sleep tight. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Noah agreed.

“Put your brother on.”

“Hi, Daddy,” Connor chirped. “Good game today. I wish I could’a seen it with you.”

“Thank you, son,” I answered. “We’ll see each other tomorrow. Denver’s airport will be open again.”

“Aunt Penny took Noah, Hunter, David and me out sledding this morning on a big, big hill in the park near their house. It was fun!”

“That’s great,” I said. “Are you ready for bed, you little monkey?”

“Yes.”

“Good night,” I replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I love you, Connor.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

“Put Mom-Mom or Pop-Pop on the phone, please,” I asked. I confirmed the flight arrangements with my father. The airlines promised everything would be up and running again tomorrow so I could see my family.

----oooOooo----

I parked my Toyota at the airport short-term parking lot and took a shuttle over to the rent-a-car agency on Monday morning. I picked up an eight-passenger van for my family to use for the next week. I parked the van in the short-term parking lot and headed over to baggage claim about fifteen minutes before my family’s 11:09 AM flight was scheduled to land. Their flight was on time.

Three small boys raced from the down escalator twenty minutes later. My sister, Liz, properly Elizabeth, was chasing after them. Mom and Dad followed at a more leisurely pace.

“Daddy!” “Daddy!” “Andy!” the three chanted as they ran to greet me. I scooped Connor up in one arm and then Noah in the other. We exchanged hugs and kisses while my five-year-old brother, Hunter, hugged me around the waist.

“Nice game yesterday afternoon, big brother,” Liz exclaimed as we hugged. She gave me a wink and added, “Kyle scored three touchdowns trashing the Raiders.”

“I know,” I agreed. “My team needs to learn to walk before we run. We’ve come a long way this season.”

“Andrew, you look like you are in excellent health,” Mom declared as she hugged me.

“I should,” I answered. “The team has nutritionists and trainers on staff to make sure I am in peak health.”

“Good to finally be here, son,” Dad said as we hugged. “What’s the plan for the day?”

“We’ll pick up my car and the van I rented so we can get you and Mom over to your hotel and get Liz and the kids to my apartment,” I replied. “I have a video review of yesterday’s game at one o’clock this afternoon. That will take most of the afternoon. We’ll get together and have a nice dinner tonight.”

“Barbecue?” Dad asked, with a big grin on his face.

“You’re in St Louis, Dad,” I retorted. “Of course, we’ll have barbecue. You’ll love this place I have in mind.”

“Sounds like a plan, son,” Dad said.

“Are we going to get to see your training facility?” Mom asked. “I know it’s not too far from the airport.”

“It is nearby but it’s at a different exit on I-70 than the one we want,” I answered. “I thought we could go in tomorrow for the grand tour. The team has the day off and I plan to spend it playing tour guide.”

“That sounds nice,” Mom agreed. We had a forty minute wait until we gathered up everyone’s luggage. We loaded up the cars. Dad followed me out to I-70 in the rental van. I took everyone to my apartment first. Liz helped the kids move in while I led Mom and Dad over to their hotel. Traffic on I-70 wasn’t bad, for mid-morning. It took us about fifteen minutes to get over to St Charles, the west St. Louis suburb where I lived.

I headed over to Rams Park to grab a quick lunch at the cafeteria and then do my post-mortem on yesterday’s game. The review wasn’t too bad for me. The coaches dinged me for a couple goofs, but overall were pleased with my performance the previous day.

Mom and Dad took the family down to Kirkwood, in the southwest quarter of St. Louis, to the Magic House. I met them there after my day was finished. Noah, Connor and Hunter were bursting to tell me about the fun things they did at the children’s museum. They climbed a three-story beanstalk themed after the “Jack and the Beanstalk” story. They played with electricity, water and pumps, built a fire house in the construction zone, played music and used tools in the children’s zone. They learned about Lewis and Clark’s western exploration too.

“The coolest thing was the football part,” Connor gushed. “They taught us how quarterbacks throw a football.”

“They showed us what you and Uncle Ky do when you catch a ball,” Noah continued. “We got to race against Uncle Ky too.”

“You race lights on the floor so you can see how you compare to Kyle in the 40,” Liz added helpfully.

“Kyle was faster,” Hunter said, deadly serious.

“Our brother is bigger, older and stronger than you guys,” I responded. “You might catch up to him when you grow up.”

“Where is the barbecue place you raved about?” Dad interjected.

“It’s a few blocks south on Kirkwood Road,” I answered. “Follow me, I’ll lead the way.” Noah and Connor insisted they had to ride with me. Hunter insisted too. I had three seat belts in back, so that was fine. We pulled into the small parking lot for Richard’s BBQ a couple minutes later. Richard’s was a small, neighborhood place.

Dad had a big grin as he stepped out of the van. “A smoker in the parking lot? This place is authentic, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I agreed.

“How did you find it?”

“My receivers coach lives nearby,” I explained to Dad. We headed inside. Dad and I got racks of ribs to go with our cole slaw and corn bread. Mom, Liz and the boys went with pulled pork sandwiches. The meat was juicy and covered with a sweet, slightly tangy sauce. Coach Moore’s advice had been spot on. Of course, I already knew that. I snuck down to Richard’s one night last week to check the place out.

Dad, Mom and Liz followed my carload of boys back to St. Charles. The trip took about forty minutes in the early-evening traffic on I-270 & I-70. Mom and Dad wished the boys a good night. They planned to turn in early after a tiring day of air travel. The boys, Liz and I weren’t tired yet. I let the boys turn on the TV. Of course, they had to announce the Monday Night Football game while the boys were watching.

“Can we watch the game, Daddy?” Noah begged.

“Christian and Zack are playing,” Connor added. “Can’t we please watch some of the game? Don’t you want to see your friends play?”

“Please, Andy,” Hunter added.

The boys knew Christian Hunsecker, a receiver on the Chiefs, and Zack Hayes, the quarterback of the Packers, from back home. Christian and Zack had been in Kyle’s wedding party two years ago. I knew the kids would whine until I allowed them to see the game. It was vacation and they could sleep in tomorrow. I choose to follow Mom’s “Strategy of the Indirect Approach.”

“I’ll make a deal, boys,” I offered. “I will allow you to watch some football IF… if you finished your baths and are dressed in your jammies, ready for bed before the game starts. If you do that, I will let you stay up and watch the first quarter.” I doubted they would last that long after a long day of travel and touring.

A chorus of “Yeah!” “We can do that,” and “Thanks, Andy” greeted my offer.

I allowed the boys a half hour of cartoons before they got ready for bed. The boys set a record for bathing, brushing their teeth and dressing for bed that evening. Motivation is a powerful tool. We had four sleeping bags spread out on the floor of the living room before Monday Night Football came on.

The boys and I sprawled out on our sleeping bags on the floor. Liz watched from my couch. I suspected this wouldn’t be the most exciting game around. Christian’s Chiefs were 6-8 and Zack’s Packers were 7-7. Zack’s team had a slight chance if they won this game and next week’s game to slip into the playoffs – assuming my team and the Falcons both lost next weekend.

The game lived down to expectations. The Chiefs had trouble running the ball. Alex Smith could get the ball to Christian but the rest of the receivers had the dropsies. Zack Hayes could hook up with Omar Harris, the receiver the Broncos traded to Green Bay a couple years ago – assuming Zack had time to throw.

Green Bay’s grand plan to upgrade their offensive line two seasons ago was in tatters. Ryan Doran, the offensive tackle from Wisconsin, got hurt and missed half his rookie season. This year he blew out his ACL in the second game of the season. He was done for the year. The journeyman left tackle wasn’t up to NFL standards protecting Zack’s back. There was a good reason he was on his fifth team in six years in the league. He wasn’t very good.

Zack made a couple brilliant escapes early in the first quarter on his way to engineering a TD. The second possession didn’t go as well. He had managed to push his team out close to midfield when the predictable disaster struck. The left tackle whiffed on his block while Zack tracked Omar Harris downfield. The tackle must have had the decency to shout a warning to Zack.

The defensive end walloped Zack just as Zack turned towards the pressure. The end hit Zack head first at the bottom of his helmet and jawline. Zack crumpled to the ground, the 300 pound end body slamming onto my friend.

“NO FAIR!” both twins protested simultaneously. It was a little spooky when the pair did that. It wasn’t unusual either.

“He hit Zack with his head down!” Connor howled.

“Yellow flag!” Noah added. “Where’s the flag?”

My football savvy six-year-olds sons were correct. The penalty flag was lying on the ground beside Zack. The defensive end clambered off my friend. Zack lay motionless for a few seconds before slowly grasping his head with his hands. The Green Bay training staff arrived just as Zack tried to push himself up off the ground. They kept him on the ground for a minute while they examined him and made sure all body parts were still attached.

“That is going to cost Brown $50,000,” I remarked.

“That much?” Liz asked.

“This isn’t the first helmet to helmet hit Brown made,” I explained. “The Commissioner is going to come down hard on him. The fine will be at least $50,000 and they might suspend him for a game.”

“Is $50,000 dollars a big deal to someone who makes millions?” Liz asked. “You signed for what… $18 million last summer. Would this little fine really make you change your behavior?”

“I did sign a four year contract for $18.8 million last summer,” I replied. “I received a signing bonus check of $4.5 million in August. That money went in the bank to safeguard me and my boys’ financial futures. I live on my game checks. We get sixteen checks a year and that is it. $50,000 is more than three of the sixteen paychecks I get in a year. Brown is in his third year in the league so it might be closer to two of his paychecks. Trust me, we do take the fines seriously.”

“Have you had to pay any fines yet?” Liz asked. “We don’t get much news about the Rams in Princeton.”

“No,” I replied, chuckling. “I usually receive hits like that rather than dealing them out. It goes with being a receiver.”

The Green Bay fans cheered as the trainers helped Zack to his feet and gingerly walked to the sidelines.

“What did the defensive end do wrong?” I quizzed my sons.

“Tackled with his head down,” both answered almost together. “Can’t hit with your helmet,” Noah added.

“Always… always tackle with your head up,” I said. “Hit them with your shoulder, wrap your arms around them and drive through when you put them on the ground. That’s the safe way to tackle.”

“We know,” Connor said. “Coach Weaver drilled us on that, Daddy.”

“Good for him,” I answered. My boys started Tiny-Mites Football in the fall. The program was set up for five, six and seven-year-olds. Hunter tried it for a couple weeks but quit. Noah and Connor loved to suit up and play football with their friends. Dad sent me video of their games each week. I managed to attend one game live, on my bye week back in mid-October. Coach Weaver seemed to be a decent coach who would get my boys off on the right foot in football.

Green Bay’s drive fizzled with Zack on the sideline. Levar Johnson, the third-year backup QB from Rice, wasn’t anymore able to move the ball than Zack had been. The Packers ran a few more plays before being forced to punt the ball back to the Chiefs. The two teams sparred indecisively into the second quarter. The lack of action lulled Noah, Connor and Hunter to sleep.

Liz and I tucked the boys in but continued watching the game with the volume on the TV turned down. Liz and I talked quietly, so we didn’t disturb sleeping kids.

“I’m glad you were able to come out here for your break,” I commented. “I don’t see enough of you, what with your summer internship and my job out here.”

“I know what you mean,” Liz agreed. “The internship last summer was fantastic. I made great contacts with Spielmann, Meyers and Rogaff.”

“Everything’s copacetic at Princeton? Classes are good?”

“Things are great,” Liz replied. “I got straight A’s in last semesters courses. Dean’s List with Honors.”

“Fantastic!” I said. “Are you still dating the guy I met back home just before my training camp started?”

“Chris? Yes, we’re still dating,” Liz answered. She gave me a big smile. “Actually, we’re more than dating. We’ve been a couple since September.”

“Cool! Is it serious?”

“Very,” Liz confirmed.

“Really?” I asked. “Miss I-don’t-want-to-get-serious-until-after-law-school?”

“That was before Chris,” Liz answered. “By chance we ended up sitting together in Poly Sci 315 this fall. We studied together and before we knew it… well it blossomed into more. Chris is pre-law like me. I didn’t want to be tied down to one guy and miss my shot at law school.”

“Understandable,” I noted.

“Chris and I can apply to the same law schools and stay together,” Liz explained. “I knew I’d have to break up with anyone else I got serious with until Chris.”

“I’m happy for you,” I replied.

“How about you?”

“I date a little,” I replied. “Serious goes out the window about the time I mention to the girl that I have two six-year-old sons.”

“I can see where that would put a damper on things,” Liz agreed. “Be patient, Andy. Girls will eventually figure out what a nice guy and great father you are. Keep the faith.”

“I try,” I agreed.

The announcers reported that Zack had a concussion about five minutes after the vicious hit. He would not be returning to the game. Alex Smith to Christian Hunsecker proved more efficient than Levar Johnson to Omar Harris at passing. The Chiefs slowly took control of the game. Liz decided she’d seen enough at halftime. The Chiefs led 17-9. I turned the TV off and went to bed too.

----oooOooo----

I made breakfast for Mom, Dad, Liz and the boys Tuesday morning before we headed out for our day of sight-seeing. Our first stop was Rams Park. Well, actually it’s called ContinuityX Training Center, but few call it that. To us inside the building it is Rams Park.

I gave my family the grand tour of the facilities. They were interested but not overly so. Kyle took them around the Broncos facility on Christmas Eve. My boys were familiar with the University of Delaware’s and Penn State’s facilities. Dad was an experienced hand a judging training facilities. He had toured nine different universities as Kyle and I chose our colleges.

We met Coach Tolbert and Coach Moore while we were there. Dad thanked Coach Moore for the great recommendation for dinner last night. We bumped into Dylan Harris as he came out of the trainers’ area. He gave us a wave and came over when he saw us.

“These must be the twins you’re always talking about,” Dylan commented as he stopped down to the boys’ height. “Who is Noah and who is Connor?”

“I’m Connor,” my older son stated.

“I’m Noah,” his seven-minute-younger brother added. Dylan looked at Hunter, standing beside his nephews.

“I didn’t know Andy had three sons,” Dylan said.

“I’m Hunter,” my younger brother explained. “Andy is my brother.”

“It’s very good to meet all of you,” Dylan said. “I’m Dylan…

“Harris,” the twins chimed in unison. “You play quarterback on Daddy’s team,” Noah added.

“We watch you play every game,” Connor said.

“Are you going to play football when you get older?” Dylan asked.

“We play football, NOW!” Connor stated forcefully.

“The boys played Tiny-Mites in Pop Warner this fall,” I added.

“Cool!” Dylan said. “Was it fun?” The twins agreed how much they loved playing football.

“Let me introduce you to the rest of the family,” I said. “This is my sister Liz… uh, Elizabeth.”

“Andrew didn’t tell me he had a sister who was a knock-out,” Dylan commented as he shook Liz’s hand.

“Down big guy,” I commented. “Remember you’re married.”

My sister gave Dylan a smile and said, “It’s nice to meet you, Dylan.”

“I can notice and compliment beauty when I see it,” Dylan replied. He turned to Mom. “Mrs. Martin, it is a pleasure. It is readily apparent where Liz gets her beauty. The two of you look more like sisters than mother and daughter.”

“I hope your passes to my son are as smooth as your lines,” Mom replied. “It’s very nice to meet you, Dylan. Please call me Sharon.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sharon.”

“This is my Dad, Dan Martin,” I said as Dylan shook hands with my father.

“It’s a pleasure, Dan,” Dylan said. “I was curious when our team drafted Andrew. Word around the league was that your older son was not only one of the best receivers around but that he worked harder than just about any team member. I hear he puts in more hours studying and preparing than some of the coaches. I hoped Andrew would live up to Kyle’s reputation. He has. Andrew is a credit to the job you’ve done raising him.”

“That’s very kind of you to say that, Dylan,” Dad replied. “I’m proud of what my older sons have accomplished.” Dad tousled Hunter’s hair. “I’m proud of Hunter too. I know you will do well when you grow up.”

“I’ll do my bestest, Dad,” Hunter answered. “Fireman… Football player like Kyle and Andy… Teacher like Will… whatever, I promise.”

“I know you will, Peanut,” Dad agreed. Peanut was one of Dad’s terms of endearment for Hunter. My little brother was condemned to be the smallest and lightest until he reached adulthood. Today, Noah and Connor had four inches in height and at least a dozen pounds on their younger uncle. Hunter was tall compared to many of his classmates, but he was fourteen months younger than my sons, who were among the tallest boys in their classes.

We thanked Dylan for talking with us. He headed to the video room to study Seattle. My family and I finished our tour of Rams Park. Our next stop was the arch in downtown St. Louis. We got our tickets for the ride to the top of the arch. We had an hour and a half to kill until our time to join the line for the elevators.

My family and I spent the time touring the Museum of Western Expansion and explaining to the boys about Lewis and Clark and the western settlers while we waited our turn. The boys were fascinated that explorers would trek across the continent on foot. My boys had camped since they were in diapers but hadn’t gone backpacking yet.

I promised the boys I would take them backpacking when they got older. Their Uncle Kyle and Aunt Penny had taken their cousin David out a couple times last summer. That was fine for Penny and Kyle. They had two adults to look after one child. I would have to carry enough gear for three kids by myself if I took Connor, Noah and Hunter out on the trail. We would do it eventually, after the boys grew to the point where they could carry most of their personal gear themselves.

My family and I joined the elevator queue around 11:30 AM. We had a forty minute wait until we actually got the elevators. Elevators… that’s a laugh. They looked more like oversized clothes driers than elevators. I managed to fold my 6’-5” body into the tiny compartment. Noah, Connor, Hunter and Liz made it into the same car as me. Mom and Dad followed us in the next car.

The boys hopped out of the elevator at the top, looked around momentarily to get their bearings and then charged up the sloping floor to the crest of the arch’s viewing area. Liz and I hustled after them. When they got there, the boys found out they were too short to see St. Louis below us. All they could see was sky. Liz lifted Hunter up so he could see. I manhandled both twins to try to get them a view, but the windows were too small.

I put Noah down, promising him a chance to look after I gave Connor his chance. Dad rescued Noah while I was showing Connor the view. We looked down on the Mississippi first. The riverboats below us looked so small. We switched over to the other side of the arch and stared down at downtown St. Louis. I showed everyone the Edward Jones Stadium where I played. We could see the Cardinals’ field too.

My family and I spent about fifteen minutes enjoying the view before we moved on to the far end of the arch’s view area to take the elevators back down to the museum. We grabbed lunch at a Papa John’s Pizza a couple blocks from my stadium. We headed up the street to the City Museum.

How do you describe the City Museum? It is part museum, part funhouse and part amusement park for kids of all ages. There is a natural history museum, an architectural museum, an aquarium in one place. It has half a dozen multiple-story slides, rooms full of balls, a tunnel through the aquarium and a Ferris wheel. The boys loved every minute of their visit. Mom, Dad, Liz and I enjoyed it too.

I was recognized by some Rams fans. I talked with them for a couple minutes. Mom, Dad and Liz took it in stride. They were used to the fuss people made over Kyle, so seeing the same thing happen to me wasn’t too unusual. My boys found it surprising that their dad attracted so much attention from strangers.

We headed back down to the river after we finished at the City Museum. We had tickets for a dinner cruise on a riverboat. They normally didn’t run in the winter, but they scheduled a few nights on the river to help people celebrate the holidays. The dinner was good, but the cruise was chilly. We stayed inside the riverboat for most of the cruise.

Mom and Dad followed Liz, the kids and I back to my place. We sent the boys off for baths before their bedtime. Mom, Dad, Liz and I relaxed while they cleaned up.

“Your mother and I were talking on the way back, Andy, “Dad said. “One of the reasons we came out here for the holidays was so Noah and Connor could see you play. Is it too late to get tickets to Sunday’s game?”

“I can try,” I offered. “Don’t the boys have school on January 4th?”

“They do,” Dad confirmed. “In this case, your mother and I think the boys can survive skipping a day of school. It’s important for them to get the chance to see what you do on the field.”

“I guess, Dad,” I replied.

----oooOooo----

I left my apartment quietly on Wednesday morning. My family planned a day at the zoo. I had work to do. I spent an hour studying our last game against the Seahawks. I bumped into La’Roi Glover, our team’s Director of Player Engagement. A lot of teams employed guys like La’Roi. He was an all-pro ten-year player in our league, playing his final three seasons as a defensive lineman for the Rams.

“Any chance of scoring me six tickets for the game?” I asked politely.

“Sunday’s game?” La’Roi asked in surprise. “Playoffs I can do pretty easily. Sunday’s game? You do realize it’s a pretty big game for us?”

“I know,” I said. “The tickets are for my family. They were supposed to attend last week’s game but got storm-stayed in Denver.”

“I’ll do my best, Andrew,” La’Roi promised. I headed off to practice. I found out how he did at lunch. Les Snead, the General Manager for our team, stopped by my table.

“I got your tickets, Andrew,” he announced. “Your family can watch the game from my box.”

“Your box?” I stammered. “Wow! I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“You’re a low maintenance player for us, Andrew,” Mr. Snead explained. “You excel on the field. You don’t put on airs like a first-round draft pick. You don’t ask for anything special. You come in and do your job every day like a professional.”

“I try to do the best I can,” I replied. I gave Dad a call as soon as Mr. Snead headed off. Dad reported the boys were enjoying the zoo. Dad would call the airlines and switch the plane tickets to Monday morning instead of Sunday morning.

I managed to concentrate through the afternoon meetings and preparation for our contest with Seattle. I grabbed a quick dinner at the Rams Park cafeteria before heading home. Liz had texted me that the family ate after they finished at the zoo that day. I made it home in time to play with the boys a little while before they got ready for bed.

Noah and Connor took turns reading the bedtime story to me. Hunter helped a little. He read well for someone who was only half finished with kindergarten. I enjoyed this quiet time with the boys but I knew it would end a lot sooner than I wanted. They were going to tell me one of these days they were too old for bedtime stories with dad – one of these days.

----oooOooo----

The family headed west to explore Meramac Cavern Thursday while I went to work. My teammates and I worked hard to prepare. The guys were loose and having fun while they worked. I liked that. The mood reminded me of my Blue Hens college team just before we won the FCS National Championship Game three years ago. I hoped that was a good omen.

Coach Tolbert offered to let the team come in late on Friday morning, so we could celebrate New Year’s Eve properly. The team took a vote and refused the offer. We preferred to work our normal hours tomorrow and celebrate the new year on Sunday by kicking Seattle’s asses.

Mom and Dad sent me over to their hotel for the night so I could get a good night’s sleep. Mom and Dad took my bedroom while Liz slept on the living room floor with the boys. I headed to work at 7:00 AM New Year’s morning. Mom prepared a nice brunch for the family after they woke up. The family planned a quiet day of watching football at my apartment while I prepped for Sunday’s game.

Penn State was down at the Capital One Bowl this year. Ohio State beat them head to head to take the East Division of the Big Ten. Ohio State blasted Wisconsin to take the Rose Bowl berth. OSU ranked 5th, just missing one of the four playoff spots for the FBS Championship. They would face Oregon in the Rose Bowl.

I studied, practiced and worked out during the day. Everyone kept one eye out during the day on the bowl games. Everyone was rooting for their college or against their college’s biggest nemesis. The half dozen of us on the team from the FCS or Division II schools felt a little left out.

I rooted for Penn State, partly for my brother Kyle, partly since I knew Matt Sauder, Josh Hunsecker and Jake Meyer. All three were key players on offense for the Nittany Lions. Matt was a graduate of Paradise High, same as me. Josh was a friend from scouts and younger brother to Kyle’s friend and former roommate, Christian. I met Jake when he visited Penn State when he was a junior and I made my official visit to campus when I was a senior in high school. Matt, Josh, Jake and their friends easily took care of South Carolina, 48-23.

Mom prepared a nice dinner in my kitchen for the whole family. She made pork and sauerkraut, a Lancaster County New Year’s Day staple. Eating pork and sauerkraut was supposed to give us good luck for the next year. Hopefully it would help on Sunday against the Seahawks.

We all watched Ohio State ground Oregon’s high-flying offense and grind the team into dust. They prevailed 34-27.

I went in for a walk-through practice, meetings and more study on Saturday. My family headed for the Missouri Botanical Garden. I met my family downtown when I finished up in the afternoon. Dad treated the family to a nice dinner at Ruth’s Chris Steak House. The steaks were outstanding. My boys were on their best behavior in this classy restaurant. I was recognized by half a dozen fans, but no one disturbed my family’s dinner. I appreciated their courtesy.

----oooOooo----

I made sure Dad had his VIP parking pass before I headed for the stadium on Sunday morning. My family planned to head downtown about an hour after me. Fans were already tailgating outside the stadium when I headed inside. The morning was clear and the temperature was above freezing, so I guess the tailgating wasn’t too weird.

Coach Davis, our offensive coordinator, gathered the offensive skill players for a final review of what we should expect from Seattle’s defense. Our game against them on November 15th had been my breakout game as a wide receiver. I caught nine passes for 153 yards and three touchdowns that evening. My last touchdown that night should have been the game winner except we left 53 seconds on the clock. Seattle’s Todd Landry rallied his team and drove them down the field for a game winning field goal in the final seconds of the game. We lost 31-30.

The loss dropped our team to 3-6 on the season but it sparked our comeback. Battling the Seahawks so hard in that God-awful, noisy stadium of theirs made us realize we could be a good football team. We went 5-1 after that night, putting us firmly in control of our playoff destiny. Seattle was 8-7, same as us. Playoff possibilities were easy for our two teams. The winner goes to 9-7 and the wildcard game. The loser goes home and watches the playoffs on TV.

“Expect Seattle’s secondary to try to take Andrew away today,” Coach Davis explained. “He burnt them bad in November. They can’t allow that to happen again. Expect to be double or triple teamed, Andrew. The rest of you…” Coach swept a pointing finger around the circle at the other running backs, tight ends and receivers. “The rest of you have to step up your game today. Exploit the single coverage you get when they concentrate on taking Andrew away. Make them PAY for covering Andrew.”

Coach looked me directly in the eye. “Seattle will respect your threat as long as you are a threat. You need to catch some balls and make yards even when you are doubled and tripled.” I nodded in agreement.

“Dylan, don’t be afraid to put the ball in play for Andrew where he can jump for it, even if he’s closely covered. Andrew is going to win the jump ball every time against Seattle’s DBs. Dylan, don’t be afraid to fire the ball into Andrew if he’s one-on-one, even if the DB is draped over his back. Andrew, use that size of yours to dominate. Any ball that comes your way is YOURS. TAKE IT!”

“I can do that, Coach,” I promised.

----oooOooo----

Coach Davis knew his business. In November the Seahawks put eight or nine men in the box (close to the line of scrimmage) and stopped Marcus Waldron, our starting tailback, cold. He rushed for 37 yards on 12 carries. This game they had seven in the box, sometimes only six. Seattle put two or three defenders on me. They backed off the line of scrimmage about ten yards, conceding short passes to me. They were determined that I would not kill them with long catches.

The other receivers won their one-on-one battles. Marcus thrived after we spread the Seahawk defense out. He made 97 yards and two touchdowns on 16 carries before halftime. I contributed a satisfying red-zone catch for a TD. It was one of the rare times I was single covered. The DB couldn’t have crowded me any closer in the end zone unless he shared my boxers with me. I boxed him out with my body the way a basketball player would do. Dylan rifled the ball into my belly. The DB snaked a hand between my body and the ball, trying to knock it loose. I twisted and ripped, keeping control for the touchdown.

We led 24-10 at halftime. Seattle got the ball first to start the third quarter. They made adjustments at halftime and drove straight down the field to bring the score to 24-17, our favor. Our next drive was thwarted by a couple penalties. We accepted a field goal instead of the touchdown we wanted. Our defense turned back Seattle on their next possession.

I got a good return on their punt and moved the ball out to our 41 yard line. We moved the ball smartly down the field into Seattle red zone (inside their 20 yard line). Surprisingly I was single covered on the next play. I was primary receiver and running a fade route to the corner of the end zone. I had five inches height advantage on the cornerback with me. Easy. Jump, catch the ball and keep my feet in the end zone. Sure score except… when I turned back to spot the ball, it wasn’t there. The cornerback and I stopped and turned back towards the center of our line.

My heart sank when I saw three Seahawks piled on the ground near Dylan. Two more were dancing around and pointing towards Seattle’s goal line. I looked at the big video display in the north end zone. It told the tale. Seattle’s right defensive end had broken free. He went for the strip rather than the sack when he hit Dylan. Seattle recovered in the scramble for the ball. At least they had 78 yards to go before they scored.

‘We can hold them,’ I thought. Well, we did slow them down at least. Our defense forced Seattle to kick a field goal instead of scoring a touchdown. We held a tenuous 27-20 lead with about thirteen minutes to play in the game. A holding call on our offensive line negated a 22 yard catch I made on first down on our next possession. We couldn’t dig out of that hole. We punted back to Seattle after three plays.

The Seahawks executed an almost picture-perfect, time-consuming drive down the field. They pushed inside into our red zone before our defense jelled. On first down and goal at the 5, our defense snuffed them – they lost a yard. Second and goal at the 6 – they gained two yards. Third goal at the 4 – they ran a sweep right. Our defense strung the runner out and shoved him out of bounds at our 7 yard line. They settled for a chip-shot field goal. Score: 27-23, our favor. This was too close for comfort.

The Seahawks kicker booted the ball deep into the end zone. I let it bounce out the back. We lined up at our 20 yard line. 8:53 showed on the game clock.

“This is it, guys,” Dylan announced. “We’re not going to take any crap anymore. We’re the Rams and we’re going to do this! Stuff it the end zone, run the clock out and send them home for the winter.”

We responded enthusiastically to our leader. If we score and, put the Seahawks down two scores we would go to the playoffs. Six good plays pushed us down inside their 40 yard line. I ran a fake go route downfield before turning back towards the line. I was the second read on the play. Dylan wanted Clay Wicks, our tight end, curling over the center. Clay on their middle linebacker was a mismatch favorable to us.

Dylan fired the ball as he saw Clay break away from the linebacker. One of the Seahawks’ big defensive linemen swatted at the ball as it flew over his head, barely grazing the ball. I watched in horror as the ball flew six inches over Clay’s leaping grab. The free safety dove for the ball scooping it up inches from the ground as he thudded to the turf. Clay touched the free safety down immediately to end the play.

5:22 remained in the game. It was up to our defense now. The offense was reduced to spectators on the sideline, watching in dread and anticipation to see our fate. Todd Landry was brilliant. My brother, Kyle, warned me how good Landry was. No one disputed he was the best quarterback of the Class of 2013. He dodged blitzes, read the coverages and drove his troops down the field. Todd drained nearly 40 seconds off the clock with each play as his team pushed down towards our goal line. On the sixth play Todd looped the ball over our on-rushing linemen to Brian Henson, the speedy first-year receiver out of Penn State. Barry Lee Smith gambled on an interception. He just missed.

Somewhere our defense miscommunicated. Barry expected Joe Stewart, our free safety, to help deep. Joe had drifted to the other side of the field to help cover another go route. Brian Henson dashed into the end zone untouched. The Seahawks booted the PAT successfully. Score: 30-27, Seahawk’s favor.

The only good thing about them scoring was that they had done it quickly. The clock ticked down to 1:57 as Brian ran the ball in for the score. We used the two-minute warning to get organized.

“Wickes, Martin, get ready to go over the middle,” Coach Davis announced to the assembled offensive players.

“I’m ready, Coach,” Clay and I responded almost simultaneously.

“Get me YAC!” Coach demanded. Yards after the catch were critical. Seattle would be covering deep routes and allowing us to complete the short, 8 to 12 yard passes without difficulty. Clay and I needed to break tackles and carry the ball deeper.

Seattle’s kickoff bounced once before bounding out of the back of the end zone. We took possession of the ball on our 20 yard line. Dylan called two plays in the huddle, so we wouldn’t waste time huddling again. Seattle lined up in their standard 4-3 defense. I lined up on the strong side in the slot as the Z receiver. Nate Cook, our #3 receiver, lined up outside as the X receiver. We had a long count for the snap. The second time Dylan barked, the strong side linebacker tipped the defense’s hand. He was blitzing.

Dylan yelled, “Frank’s,” twice before barking again for the snap. We were running a tight end bubble screen, thanks to Dylan’s alert call at the line.

Clay Wickes dropped back behind me while the linebacker who normally covered him rushed at Dylan. Nate Cook, the receiver on the outside, blocked his cornerback away. I slammed into the strong safety to block him out of the play. Dylan lobbed the ball over the linebacker’s outstretched arms to Clay, who took off down the field. I shed the strong safety as Clay passed me and hustled downfield for another block. The free safety tried to slither past me to get to Clay. I knocked him to the ground. The whistle blew. I helped the free safety off the ground before looking for Clay. He was to my side. We had gained seventeen yards on the screen.

Everyone hustled back to the line of scrimmage and lined up. This time Seattle didn’t blitz. I ran a slant over the center. Dylan fired the ball out to Nate Cook along the sidelines for a twelve yard gain. 1:25 remained on the clock. We were on our 49 yard line.

We huddled and Dylan called a couple more plays. We saw that Seattle sent in seven d-backs, a linebacker and three linemen. Dylan dumped the ball off to Marcus Waldron, his safety valve when the rest of us were well covered. Marcus rumbled forward for ten yards. We hustled to line up again.

0:57 remained as the ball was snapped to Dylan. I ran a dig route. It looked like a deep go or fade route until I made my cut. I faked going on an out towards the sideline before cutting inside again. That got me open momentarily. Dylan rifled the ball downfield to me. I snatched it out of the air and spun. The defensive back lunged for the tackle but missed me.

Clay Wickes had run a go route from his tight end position, drawing the other defenders in the center of the field deep with him. I motored downfield. I cut to my right off Clay’s block and shifted into high gear. I managed to outrun everyone but the cornerback on the right side who had covered Nate Cook. He made a play for me as I approached the goal line. I tried to high step through his tackle attempt, but he managed to snag my ankles and bring me down. I extended the ball over the goal line as I fell to the ground.

66,000 Rams fans shouted their approval as the referee signaled touchdown. I tossed the ball to the referee as I climbed off the ground. I engulfed immediately by ecstatic teammates.

“Great work, Drew,” Clay exclaimed as he slapped me on the back. “Atta boy, Andrew,” “Way to go, Andrew,” and “Good job,” echoed as more teammates joined our group hug celebrating our team’s score. We had to hustle out of the way so our field goal unit could kick the extra point. Mark Briggs, ‘The Old Man’ to most of us young guys, booted the ball through the uprights. Score: 34-31, Ram’s favor.

Mark was a good reliable kicker and the last link we had to the ‘Greatest Show on Turf’ era of our team’s history. At 36, Mark was half a decade older than the next oldest player on the team. Mark booted the ball into the end zone on the kickoff.

Seattle and Todd Landry had 41 seconds and one time out to engineer a touchdown drive. Coach Tolbert blitzed our Mike (middle linebacker) on the first play. Todd Landry coolly tossed the ball over the linebacker to his tight end for a 13 yard gain. Todd hustled his team to the line to down the ball and stop the clock. 0:21 remained. Coach Tolbert switched over to a prevent defense. Three defensive backs blanketed each sideline. A safety covered the middle of the field and another played 40 yards deep, ready to tackle anyone who might slip through the rest of our defense.

Todd Landry was forced to throw the ball to his receiver in the middle of the field. The receiver picked up 22 yards but was tackled immediately. Seattle used their final timeout to keep time on the clock. 0:13 remained on the clock.

Coach Tolbert, who played and coached for Rex and Rob Ryan’s dad, Buddy, blitzed a cornerback and a safety. I knew about the Ryan aggressiveness on defense from watching the brother’s teams on TV as well as Dad’s stories of Buddy when Dad was growing up as an Eagles fan.

My friend Barry Lee Smith chucked his receiver before dashing for the QB. Darrian Newton, our outstanding left end, had already been double teamed by the right tackle and guard. Barry Lee streaked past them and raced for Todd. Todd saw the blitz in time to chuck the ball out of bounds before Barry Lee dropped him hard to the turf.

Six seconds were left on the clock. Coach Calloway, our defensive coordinator, yelled, “Hail Mary Team – you’re on.” I grabbed my helmet and trotted out onto the field. The eight tallest wide receivers and defensive backs made up the secondary for our ‘Hail Mary Team.’ The receivers lined up deep, around our 10 yard line. The four defensive backs lined up more conventionally in front of us.

Five Seahawk receivers converged on the middle of the end zone as Todd heaved the ball. The eight of us converged on the cluster of Seahawks. Jake Sanders touched the ball first, batting it my way. Brian Henson, a Seahawk receiver and former college teammate and protégé of my brother’s, had his arm in my face and hands mixed in with mine. I did a volleyball style spike and sent the ball out of the end zone and into the ground on the field.

Everyone looked at the game clock as we picked ourselves up off the ground. Was there time for another play? This had been second down. The clock showed all zeros. Game over! We WIN!

The eight of us in the end zone were dancing around, hugging and celebrating. Our team’s eleven year playoff drought was over. We were going to the playoffs! The fans in the stadium stood and roared their approval.

The two teams walked onto the field to shake hands and wished each other well for the future. Todd Landry bumped into me as I was shaking hands with some of his Seahawk teammates.

“Good game, Andrew,” he commented as he shook my hand.

“You had a good game too, Todd,” I responded. “I was afraid you were going to beat us there at the end.”

“Good luck next week,” Todd answered. “Tell Kyle I said hi.”

“You have a good off-season,” I said. I shook hands with a few more guys before I heard the sounds I was hoping for.

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!” I turned only to be tackled by two over-enthusiastic six-year-olds.

“You played great, Daddy! You caught the winning touchdown, Daddy! Did you know… We got to…” I couldn’t keep up with the rapid-fire narrative Noah, Connor and Hunter gave me of everything they had seen and done in the past four hours. I hugged Liz, Mom and Dad as I listened and nodded to the boys’ chatter.

“Dan! Sharon!” a voice said as we talked. All of us turned to see Brian Henson greeting us.

“You had an excellent game, Brian,” Dad said as he shook my brother’s friend’s hand.

“Andy had a good one too,” Brian responded. All of us exchanged handshakes. Brian kneeled down to the level of the boys. “I know you’re Hunter,” he said, pointing towards my brother. “I still don’t know the two of you apart. Who is Noah and who is Connor?”

“I’m Noah,” one son answered. “I’m Connor,” the other added.

“Do you remember me?” Brian asked. Both boys shook their heads no.

“Sure, you do,” I added. “Brian from Penn State and Uncle Kyle’s wedding.” The boys finally remembered the tall, thin wide receiver. They chattered away for a couple minutes, telling Brian all the things they had seen and done that afternoon at the game.

“It’s been great to see all of you,” Brian finally said after the kids’ chatter paused. “Good luck next week, Andy.”

“Give Courtney our love,” Mom added. Brian had married his college sweetheart last summer. Kyle and Penny made it out to the wedding in Seattle.

We bumped into Jauron Greene, my NFL Combine roommate for a few days. Jauron was a wide receiver too, but played exclusively on special teams that afternoon. He hadn’t caught me on any of my returns.

Dad spotted Sam Hayes and waved him over to join us. My family and the Hayes family were friends of many decades. My brother Will had been high school friends with Sam and had been in his wedding party. Kyle and Sam’s brother Zack had been teammates, both in high school and college.

Sam had hung up his cleats after last season. He was working for the Seahawks as an unpaid coaching intern this year. Hopefully they thought enough of him to offer him a paying job this coming season.

Two TV interviews and three press interviews interrupted me and my family as we socialized on the field. After the last reporter left, Connor asked, “When are you coming home, Daddy?”

“It will be soon,” I promised.

“How soon?” Noah asked.

“As soon as my team loses a game,” I replied. “I could be home next week. It could be as long as five weeks, if we keep winning.”

“I hope you keep winning, Daddy, but…” Noah started. His smile turned to a frown as his desire for me to keep winning and his desire for me to get home battled.

“I know,” I answered. “I will be home as quick as I can. We survived five months apart. We’ll manage this last little bit.”

“OK, Daddy,” both boys agreed.

“Are you set for the trip home, Dad?” I asked my father.

“We have over four hours to get to the airport before our red-eye takes us home,” Dad answered. “I’ll make sure everything is squared away with the rental van. Good luck next weekend.”

“Have a safe trip home, everyone,” I said. “I love all of you.”

“Have a safe game, son,” Mom added as I headed for the tunnel and our locker room.

Our locker room was bedlam. Some of the guys were passing beers around. Others shook their cans up and were spraying everyone. Chaos reigned. I started to undress. I had my pads and girdle off when I thought I heard my phone ring. I glanced down at it. It was Kyle.

“Quiet, guys!” I shushed. “Quiet!” The guys in the adjoining lockers lowered the racket a little as I answered the phone.

“Hey, bro,” Kyle said. “That was a great play you made at the end of the game.”

“Don’t you have a game of your own in an hour?” I asked. “Why are you watching us?”

Kyle laughed. “Brady and I go for one series against the Steelers. We can do that in our sleep.” Kyle’s team was 13-2 and had locked up home field advantage and their playoff berth two weeks ago. A month ago, the Broncos/Steelers matchup seemed ideal for the final game of the season. The Steelers lost the last two weeks and were going home after they played Denver. The TV network was stuck with the game anyway.

“What’s all the noise in the background?” Kyle asked. “You aren’t celebrating, are you?”

“Well… uh…” I allowed. I knew what was coming next.

“DON’T CELEBRATE!” Kyle commanded. He gave me the advice he and his team had learned from bitter experience last season. I could only smile and nod as he finished his advice.

“Thanks, bro,” I said when he finished. “Good luck tonight.” I clicked the phone off and looked at my teammates celebrating our first playoff appearance in a dozen years.

“Attention!” I shouted across the din. “Attention, everyone! QUIET DOWN!” I used my command voice I learned years ago lifeguarding at scout camp when I needed to be heard over a hundred noisy Boy Scouts. “My brother, Kyle, just called with a message for the team. DON’T CELEBRATE! We did not reach our destination. Today, we started our journey. Kyle says, ‘See you in San Francisco!’ Listen to my brother. He’s been there before.”

This year’s Super Bowl was being held in the 49er’s new stadium outside San Francisco. I appreciated my brother for taking the time to call. His game would start in about an hour, but he made time to help me and my team. I’d been blessed when God handed out brothers.

Chapter 2

===========

The NFL announced the Wild Card playoff lineups later Sunday night while I watched Kyle’s Broncos play the Steelers. We would play the New York Giants at Met-Life Stadium on Saturday night in prime time.

The Broncos backup QB took over from Brady Rasmussen halfway through the first quarter. Kyle was benched for the night at the same time. Charlie Taylor, my brother’s college and professional teammate carried the load running the ball. Devon Ford assisted.

I was pleased to see Hal Long kicking for the Broncos. He was a mid-season fill-in when the Broncos regular kicker tore an ACL. Hal deserved a shot at the NFL, the same as the rest of us from the Wolverines High School football team we all played on. Kyle, me, Ed Fritz, Jeremy North, Jake Kring and Mike Johanson had all made it. Hopefully he would stick around after this season.

Hal carried the load for his team that evening. The Broncos won on the strength of Hal’s three field goals, 16-13. The Steelers dynasty that won the Super Bowls this century was just about gone. I frankly expected Ben Roethlisberger to hang it up after this game. He had been beaten up brutally in the past few seasons.

----oooOooo----

Coach Tolbert informed every one of our practice schedule. Our normal Tuesday day off would be a practice day. No one minded. If we didn’t play our best Saturday night in New Jersey, we would have all the days off we wanted – from now until next April when OTAs [off-season training activities] started.

Chris Cobb, our #3 tight end and a fellow rookie, sat with me at lunch. “Did you hear my Blue Devils stole a coach from your brother’s school?”

“No.”

“The QB coach,” Chris explained. “You know… the guy who trained up Phillip DiStefano, Zachary Hayes and Chip Brinton. He’s got to be pretty good. Did you ever meet him?”

“QB Coach?” I asked as I searched my memories.

“Russell Peterson,” Chris added helpfully.

“Yeah, I did,” I answered. “I did two recruiting visits to Penn State. He is a good coach, from what I remember. I know my brother speaks highly of him.”

“He will be a good fit at Duke,” Chris added. “He’s already used to putting academics first. We love our Blue Devil football, but we love academic achievement more. Why didn’t you follow your brother to Penn State?”

“Coach Keeler at Delaware was willing to allow me to go home after games to spend time with my boys,” I explained.

“Every weekend?” I nodded yes. “Unbelievable. I never would have thought ANY football coach would allow his players to go home during the season.”

“I am grateful that he did,” I replied. “I couldn’t have missed four years of my boys’ life.”

“I guess a Division I-AA coach will do what he has to get a I-A talent on his team,” Chris said. I understood what my friend meant even though the proper terminology was Football Championship Series/FCS and Football Bowl Series/FBS. Many players and coaches still called the divisions I-AA and I-A.

News that an obscure coach at a university I never attended impacted my friends more than I expected.

----oooOooo----

I found out some shocking news over lunch the next day. Someone had ESPN turned on in the cafeteria. Most of us were ignoring the talking heads. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the crawler at the bottom of the screen.

“Green Packers QB Zack Hayes announced his retirement this morning…”

I was stunned. Zack wasn’t that much older than my brother. They played together in high school and college. I was only two years younger than Kyle. That made Zack twenty-eight, five years older than me. I would turn twenty-three the day of our wild card playoff game. All of this brought home what my agent, Max Solomon, always preached. ‘Be ready for life after football. It can come at any time.’

I called Zack in the evening after practice was over. It took a few tries to get through on his phone.

“Hey, Andy,” Zack said pleasantly as he answered his phone.

“Retirement? I’m shocked…” I began.

“You and every one of the other twenty people who called tonight,” Zack said. “I’m tired of the beatings. I won’t feel healthy until March… maybe. You hear about that concussion I suffered a couple weeks ago?”

“I was watching the game with my boys,” I acknowledged.

“That was my fifth,” Zack explained. “You know I want to be a football coach when I finish playing. I understand they want coaches to have a few brain cells left.”

“It helps,” I agreed. “Let me guess. You already have your next job lined up – quarterback coach at Penn State.”

“I do,” Zack acknowledged, laughing. “Coach Burton promised years ago to hire me when I finished playing. He called me and recruited me when the deal with Duke and Coach Peterson became a strong possibility. Leigh Ann and I didn’t need to talk long to decide that we belonged in State College, not in the NFL.”

“I’m happy you’re reaching your personal goals, Zack,” I replied.

“Do you have an exit plan for life after the NFL?” Zack asked. “All of this goes by really quickly.”

“I do,” I answered. “Playing in the NFL has never been one of my life’s goals. This is a means to an end. I started preparing for life after football while I was in college.”

“Good for you,” Zack said. “Now, I have a professional question for you.” He laughed. “We’re all from Paradise but I don’t know Matt Sauder at all. What can you tell me about him? He just became my responsibility.”

“I have played with three NFL or future NFL quarterbacks between Ed, Jake and Dylan Harris,” I answered. “The ‘Mad Bomber’ is as talented as ANY of the other quarterbacks I’ve played with.”

“The Mad Bomber?” Zack asked, laughing.

“That was what the other guys on the team called him when he was made starter when he was in tenth grade,” I explained. “He played with no fear. Put it up and let the receivers go make a play for it. We loved it.”

“Chuck it up and pray,” Zack said. “I hope he’s learned a few things since those days.”

“Kyle assured me he has,” I said. “I can tell you what Kyle has told me.”

“That’s alright,” Zack said. “I plan to pump your brother for information too.”

“Good luck in State College, Zack,” I said.

“Good luck against the Giants on Saturday,” Zack answered.

“Give Leigh Ann and Laurie my love,” I added before we ended the phone call.

Be prepared for life after football. It was excellent advice. I already achieved step 1 of my life-after-football plan. Get a nice nest egg of money. My best friend, Eric Connell, was working on step 2 now. We would be ready in a few years when my playing career ended. Life after football would be just fine for me and my boys.

----oooOooo----

The Rams had three players who had played in the playoffs before. Mark Briggs, our kicker, had been a part of the “Greatest Show on Turf” Rams in the early 2000s. Terrence Jones was a wide receiver for the Eagles when they lost to the Saints in the wild card round in 2013. Mark Shaeffer, our backup QB, had been QB3 with the Bengals when they played in a wild card game early in his career. Coach Tolbert had played for the 1985 Super Bowl winning Bears team and taken the Titans to the Super Bowl years later. He understood what was coming.

The playoffs would be more intense than the regular season. We needed to work harder and study harder if we wanted to succeed. We took Coach’s advice to heart. Guys came in early and stayed late studying video and the game plan. We practiced hard and focused on our tasks. We felt confident when we did our final practice Friday afternoon.

We flew east to New Jersey Friday night. We did a run through practice at Met-Life Stadium Saturday after lunch. We felt ready by the time we came back out for warm-ups Saturday after dinner.

I had time to chat with Tyler Madden, the Giant’s excellent free safety. Tyler was a former Nittany Lion team captain who graduated a year ahead of my brother, Kyle. I knew Tyler from my official visit to Penn State and also from my brother’s wedding. Tyler had been robbed when they announced the Pro Bowl selections. He should have been selected. I would have my hands full trying to catch passes while he was roaming the deep end of the field.

Our confidence that we understood what it meant to be ready for the playoffs was misplaced. We knew the intensity went up but we didn’t understand how much until we got on the field with the Giants. Tyler Madden’s hits were literally bone rattling. The Giants were flying around the field like maniacs. We thought we were ready but we weren’t. We were down 14-0 before the end of the first quarter.

Being down two scores turned us into a one dimensional team. Normally Marcus Waldron’s running yardage complemented our passing game. That day, the Giants were able to ignore the running threat and concentrate on our passing attack. We sputtered, trying to force the ball into coverage against seven defensive backs. We managed to get on the scoreboard in the second quarter but we were down 21-7 at halftime.

We started better when we received the kickoff to start the third quarter. Dylan led us down the field impressively and quieted the crowd as we stuffed the ball into the end zone. Inspired by the score, our defense rose up and stuffed the Giants’ next possession. Three downs later they punted it back to us.

I got a good return on the punt, moving the ball out to our 47 yard line. Our offense got to work. We made good yards on the first four downs. The fifth play was a disaster. I came open and Dylan drilled the ball towards me. A Giants lineman swatted it as it flew by him. The ball wobbled and dove for the ground well short of me. I tried to get by the cornerback I had beaten to catch the ball. Tyler Madden easily beat me there.

Tyler scooped the ball inches above the ground and sprinted for our end zone. I slipped the weak block the cornerback attempted and took off after Tyler. I was closing on him when I noticed a blur in my peripheral vision. Next thing I am flying ass over elbows. I clambered off the ground in time to see Tyler cruise into the end zone, untouched. The Giants kicker made the PAT to put them up 28-14.

Tyler’s pick six re-energized the crowd of Giants fans. Their defense fed off the energy. They stopped our offense time and again. We managed to score a field goal in the fourth quarter, but it was far too little, much too late. The final score was Giants-34, Rams-17.

“We’ve learned a lot of lessons today, guys,” Dylan Harris announced back in the locker room after the game. “Now the rest of you know how intense the playoffs are. We can fix that next season. We understand what the crowd can do for a team. We need home field advantage next season.”

“We will get this right next year,” Darrian Newton, our other captain, agreed. We dressed, packed our things and headed for the buses. We were taking a red-eye charter back to St. Louis that evening.

----oooOooo----

I arrived at my apartment around five in the morning. I went straight to bed and didn’t get up until a little after noon that Sunday. I spent the afternoon packing and cleaning my apartment. I wanted things in decent shape when I came back in April or May for the team’s first OTA.

I headed in Monday morning to clean out my locker and pick up my final paycheck. A lot of the team members were in doing the same thing as me. The mood was somber. We all said good bye and see you in April. That would be true for many, though not all of us.

I was learning how brutal and unforgiving professional football was. I was one of twenty-three rookies who started with the team last April. Five of us rookies made the roster and two more stuck around on the practice squad. Twenty-some draftees, unsigned free agents and free agents from other teams were likely to join us. Some of us would not be returning to the Rams when we started OTAs in April. That’s the business I am in.

I had one more piece of business to complete before I could go home for a well-deserved vacation. I needed to do a check-out physical with our trainers and team physicians. The physical wasn’t what you would imagine. The trainer pulled out a folder with all my ailments since I joined the team at the end of April.

“How is the jammed left pinkie?” “Fine” “How’s the ankle sprain?” “Fully healed, no problem at all.” “Bruised ribs?” “Ham string?” “Dislocated right ring finger?”

The trainers read off each of the many minor ailments they treated me for during the pre-season and season. I acknowledged that the maladies had healed. I had to sign a release of liability for the Rams after I agreed each had healed. It was a depressingly long list of ailments for someone who hadn’t missed a snap all season.

I stopped by and said goodbye to Coach Moore and Coach Davis before I left. I stopped off at UPS and shipped some boxes home. I planned to travel light when I headed home tomorrow. I stopped in at the apartment complex’s office and made sure all my bills were sent to my financial planners in Lancaster so I stayed current with any bills.

I took Dylan Harris and his wife, Beth, out to dinner to thank them for everything they did for me this season. Dylan had been a good leader and a great friend. I followed Dylan and Beth home. Dylan agreed to look after my car over the winter while I was in Pennsylvania. He drove me home after I parked my car at his house.

“Thanks for dinner tonight, Andrew,” Dylan said as he pulled to a stop in front of my building.

“It was my pleasure,” I replied. “I am glad the Rams drafted me. I hoped I would get to work with a good quarterback. I won the jackpot. I got to work with an elite quarterback, even if the rest of the league hasn’t figured that out about you yet.”

“I don’t know if you knew but the Rams tried hard to grab your brother two years ago,” Dylan said. “When you became available, we determined that we would not miss again. Everyone wondered if you could match your brother’s abilities and production. You may not have matched him… yet, but we know you will. He’s got three years’ experience now and you don’t. We didn’t waste our first round draft pick this year.”

“I appreciate you saying that, Dylan,” I replied.

“I’ll see you in April,” Dylan answered. “Take good care of your boys.”

I hopped out and waved goodbye as he drove off.

----oooOooo----

My taxi had me to the airport in plenty of time for my 11:30 AM flight to Charlotte. I spent ninety minutes on the ground in Charlotte before catching my flight to Harrisburg. We touched down at 4:22 PM, right on time. I grabbed my carry-on bag and headed down the concourse. My phone rang about thirty seconds after I got off the plane.

“Where are you, Andy?” Dad asked.

“In the concourse, heading for baggage claim,” I answered.

“Do you have many bags?” Dad asked as I continued walking. “Should I bring the car around so it is easier to load them?”

“No,” I said, laughing. “I’m traveling light today. I have nothing but carry-on.”

“Good, we might make it home in time for supper,” Dad said. “You mom is holding supper a half hour to give us a shot as joining her and the boys.”

“Cool!” I answered. “See you in a few.”

Dad and I hugged when I reached the end of the hallway leading to Baggage Claim.

“Did you have a good flight?” Dad asked as we headed for the parking lot.

“I did.”

“I’m sorry about how your game turned out Saturday night,” Dad offered.

“We learned a lot of lessons from the loss,” I said. “We’ll come back next year, better prepared for the playoffs.”

“I’m sure you will,” Dad agreed. “Let’s go find the car. Mom’s making pot roast for dinner. We don’t want to miss it.”

“My favorite,” I replied. “I owe Mom a big hug and kiss when we get home.”

Dad and I stepped out of the terminal. I was unprepared for the big piles of snow everywhere around the roads and parking lots. South central Pennsylvania got hammered with a dozen inches of snow last Wednesday night. My boys were off from school on Thursday. Dad saw my shock.

“You know the little snow the boys told you about last night?” Dad said. “The snow flurries turned into a full-blown blizzard after the boys went to bed. It poured down snow last night from about nine o’clock until after 1:00 AM. Sixteen inches total.”

“This scene reminds me of that storm when I was a senior in high school,” I replied. “You remember it. They closed schools for half the week. The boys were still toddlers.”

“I remember that one,” Dad said. “You, your brother, his girlfriend, Liz and the whole neighborhood of kids were out on the hill by Stoltzfus’ pasture – morning, afternoon and half the night for a whole week.”

“I seem to remember you and Mom out on the hill every day too,” I teased. Dad gave me a sheepish grin.

“It was a lot of fun.”

“Everything shut down for that storm,” I asked. “How in the world did they get everything cleared so you could pick me up?”

“Timing,” Dad answered. “They had four days to clear the first twelve inches of snow. Roads were pretty good by the time the second storm hit last night. I have to give the road crews credit. They came by our house around ten o’clock last night. They kept after the snow as it fell. Roads were pretty good by morning. All the schools closed anyway. A lot of businesses closed too. It was murder getting my excavator in today to clear my parking lot. He didn’t finish until two o’clock this afternoon.”

“Snow or no snow, it is good to be home.”

The drive down I-283 wasn’t bad. The salt on the road kept roads slushy instead of icy. Traffic moved along well. Dad pulled into our driveway about ten minutes before six. The boys must have been watching for me from inside the front door. I barely made it out of the car before I was tackled by 120 pounds of ecstatic boys, delighted to finally have their father home again.

The boys and I exchanged frantic hugs and kisses before hustling inside. It was January and cold. I gave Mom a big hug and kiss too. Her pot roast with dumplings, carrots and onions was exquisite. She made chocolate cake for dessert in honor of my birthday three days earlier. I certainly felt the love from my family by the time dinner was over.

“Daddy, you going to come sledding with us?” Connor demanded as he finished his cake.

“You got to come sledding with us, Daddy,” Noah insisted. “Please?” both begged.

“I guess I can do that,” I agreed.

“Save some time for your mother and I,” Dad said. “We need to go over some things with you.”

“You boys may sled until eight o’clock,” Mom added. “It’s baths and bedtime after that. Understood?”

“Yes, Mom-Mom,” and “Yes, Mom,” came back from Noah, Connor and Hunter immediately. The boys understood about following Mom’s orders. You disobeyed at your peril.

I found some old winter clothes to wear for the evening. I also found out I would be making a trip to buy more clothing. The Rams trainers had done their job making me bigger and stronger.

I think half the kids in Paradise were out on Stoltzfus’ Hill that night. The younger ones, such as my boys and little brother, came with an accompanying parent or two. Pre-teens, middle schoolers, and teens, they were all there having fun in the snow.

I was surprised at how few kids I recognized. There were eleventh and twelfth graders there but I didn’t know any of them. I thought back to the youngest kids I knew well from when I was in high school, the scouts in my New Scout Patrol when I was a troop guide.

Wesley Baer came bouncing over to us when we reached the hilltop. Wes was on the same football team as my boys last fall. He was the younger son of Justin Baer, a close friend, a leader in my Venturer crew and assistant coach on my high school team. I sent the four boys take off down the hill without dragging “old dad” along.

Gary Harrison had been in my patrol. Gary was recruited and had signed to play with Boston College. Nate Trimble was out in Indiana. He was a preferred walk-on at Notre Dame, hoping to follow in the footsteps of his brother-in-law, Jeremy North.

Finally, I spotted two kids trudging back up the hill that I did know – Billy Baer and Brian Miller. Billy was Wes’ older brother. I had dated Brian’s Aunt Heather when we were in middle school and starting high school.

Even these two familiar faces reminded me of how old I was getting. They had been ball-boys on my high school football team. They might have come halfway up to my chest then. Now Billy had to be close to six feet tall. Brian wasn’t much shorter. They should be thirteen or so and they clearly hit puberty. They had the skinny look that said there wasn’t enough food in the world to keep them fed.

“Hey, Andy!” Billy shouted as he spotted me.

“Good to see you, Andy,” Brian added. I told them about playing in the NFL as the boys questioned me. They promised me they always cheered for my Rams whenever they could find us on TV. I quizzed the boys about Scouts. They proudly told me they were both receiving their Star badges at the Court of Honor in a couple weeks. I would need to go visit my old troop and say hi to everyone.

Billy and Brian split just as Wes, Noah, Connor and Hunter came back to the top of the hill. The twins insisted I had to ride the toboggan down with them. We did run after run. We had a blast. I didn’t pay attention to the time until Billy came to take his brother, Wes, home. I glanced at my watch. It was 8:02 PM.

“Get your stuff, guys,” I announced. “It’s time to go home.”

“One more run,” Hunter begged.

“Please, Daddy, one more run,” Noah and Connor added.

“We are late,” I said as I showed them my watch. “What is Mom-Mom going to say?”

Connor gave me a sly grin