Will You be our Mommy?
Douglas Fox
Bookapy User License
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please go to Bookapy.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Will You be Our Mommy?
By Douglas Fox, © 2014-2020
This story continues the “Life in Paradise” series. This story is narrated by Andrew Martin, the rookie receiver and younger brother of Kyle Martin. While adapting to life in the NFL, Andrew is on a quest to find a wife and a mother for six-year-old twins, so he can build a proper family and life for him and his sons. I will give away the ending. Andrew finds a bride. The story is his journey from single dad living with his parents in the off-season to a happily married father providing a good home for his family.
Cover Photo: Pastoral Paradise Township scene looking east toward Gap, PA. (c) 2024 Douglas Fox
Chapter 1
==========
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.