My heart is still racing, even though I’m on the sidelines, and adrenaline is coursing through my veins.
The thought of going to the Super Bowl in two weeks doesn’t even feel like it could possibly be real, and yet those damn giant red numbers prove that it is. I pull off my helmet and take a swig of Gatorade, feeling the silence of the New York crowd and wiping the sweat from my forehead as the clock winds down, and our entire offense and bench start celebrating.
“Nicely done, Junior!” Chase laughs, patting my arm and giving me a nod of approval.
“Thanks, man,” I yell over the noise of the rest of our team hollering and shouting and swarming around me, shoving and fist-bumping.
“This is fucking hype, bro.” Chase shakes my shoulder pad aggressively.
I laugh and shake my head in disbelief, soaking in the euphoric blur of this win and looking up at the clear blue sky. “We made it.”
The game clock hits zero, and the whole area around me becomes an explosion of excitement.
Smoke and the rest of the defensive line rush over as the game ends, joining the rest of us in the wild high of celebration.
“Hey, QB, let’s fucking go!” Leo Sterling, who had a hell of a game, catching more than a few long-ass passes, slams into me and gives me a fist bump.
“Hell yeah, brother!” I smack his helmet.
Dylan Rivera and Elliot Danes offer me high fives and bro-hugs, and someone dumps a bottle of Gatorade on Smoke’s head.
The huddle of the team starts to disperse as the sidelines fill with staff and media people and players’ families, all in an amped-up frenzy as they rush toward the players. The high among the crowd on the field is literally palpable as the whole world buzzes and swirls around me.
I watch as Elliot’s son, Asher, runs up to him with a wild grin and leaps into his arms. His wife, Jessica, hugs and kisses them both as cameras flash.
Leo holds his two-year-old, Sammy, and Frankie laughs and kisses him.
Pink-haired Melody jumps into Dylan’s arms, wrapping her legs around him as he twirls her in circles.
Dylan’s mom clasps her hands together and bounces on her toes, while his dad takes a hundred pictures of Dylan and Melody with a phone he’s holding upside down.
I smile at all the adorable and happy celebration, clutching my helmet at my side and running a hand through my sweaty hair.
In the midst of the floaty high feeling and the rush of adrenaline and the racing thoughts of holy shit, we’re going to the Super Bowl, my mind starts to focus on one thing.
Ellie’s here. I know she’s here. And fueled by the unbelievable surge of confidence and testosterone washing over me, I know all I want to do right now is find her.
The only person I really want to share this insane win with is her. The woman I’m having a kid with and the woman I don’t know that well but can’t stand to not see. The woman who raced through my mind about a thousand times during the course of that game.
She’s gotta be here somewhere…
“There he is!” Suddenly, a woman’s voice pierces through the crowd as I’m searching for Ellie.
I turn my head to see that pushy ESPN reporter Kayla King hurrying toward me with a mic and a camera crew.
I jump a little, blown back by the fierce intensity in her eyes and the sheer volume of microphones and cameras being shoved in my face.
“Matt McKenzie!” Kayla shouts as she shuffles toward me as fast as humanly possible while wearing stilettos on a football field.
“Over here, he’s right here!” a man hollers, wielding an enormous recording device over his shoulder. More reporters and camera crew members swarm around me, and I can’t help but laugh, feeling like a damn movie star on the red carpet.
This is more media attention than Chase got after some of his biggest wins.
“Matt,” Kayla says again, holding a mic in front of my mouth. “Here you are, right now, just won the last playoff game by defeating the Jets, and you’re headed to the Super Bowl. How are you feeling?”
I scratch the back of my neck and wince at a couple of bright camera flashes. “Well, I’m just so happy to be part of such an incredible team. Couldn’t have done it without all of these guys leaving their blood, sweat, and tears on the field today.”