Authors: Karen Kingsbury
He stopped, his expression as innocent as he could make it. “Hurt what?”
“Your right knee.” She motioned for him to come closer. “Come on, lift up the sweat pants. Let me see the swelling.”
His shoulders slumped forward and a defeated chuckle sounded in his throat. “Good thing I don’t have much to hide.” He came to her and pulled up his pant leg. “You see right through me every time.”
Denae stooped down. She touched her fingertips to the swelling on either side of his kneecap. “Derrick, look at that.” She stood and stared straight at him. “How’d it happen?”
He tried to minimize the situation. “Simple sprints. Something popped, but I wasn’t down more than a minute or so.” He let his sweat pants fall back down again. “I’m fine.”
“Fine.” She tossed her hands in the air. “How many times have I heard that, Derrick.” She mumbled something under her breath. “You need to have it checked.”
“Baby, listen.” His lighthearted attitude was gone. “I did. X-ray’s fine.” He needed her on his side if he was going to get through this season. He put his hand on her shoulder and looked deep, all the way to the center of her heart.
Something in her expression softened. “Okay.” She worked her arms around his waist, and tenderly, with all the love the years had built between them, she kissed him. When she eased back, a shadow fell over her eyes. “Does it hurt?”
He could be honest with her. Slowly he nodded, never breaking eye contact. “Bad.” He clenched his jaw, warding off the pain and disappointment at the same time. “But I can play on it, Denae. I know I can. God’s gonna get me through this one last season.”
She searched his heart, his soul. “You don’t have to make good on the promise, baby.” She pressed her face against his chest. “He would understand. You know he would.”
A sea of sorrow welled inside him, but he swallowed it, held it at bay. “If I have anything to say about it…I’ll keep every word.” He kissed her this time. “It’s now or never.”
The voices of their children outside drifted through the open kitchen window, mingling with the smell of late summer, hydrangea and honeysuckle. Derrick smiled, but he could feel his chin quiver. “You have to believe, baby.”
She breathed in slow through her nose. “I do.” Her eyes closed and she held him tight, clinging to him. “I believe with everything I am, Derrick.”
For a long while, they stayed that way, swaying to the sounds of the children they loved so dearly. Sounds that wouldn’t be around forever. Life had already given them proof of that much. When finally he took a step back, he grinned at her, finding the light and happy mood from earlier. “Now let’s say we get some dishes done.”
“No.” Her eyes were still soft, still full of a love that knew no limits. “Go sit down and put your leg up. I’ll bring you an ice pack.”
He was about to protest, but her look stopped him. “All right.” He blew her a kiss, and moved into their bedroom for a sweatshirt. That way he could sit out on the upstairs deck, the one that offered a panoramic view of the San Francisco Bay, and not feel too chilled.
As he walked into the room, his eyes fell on his family’s picture, the one framed on the wall next to the closet, from six years ago.
Derrick slowed his steps, and as he reached the picture, he studied the faces. He and Denae, in love with all the world ahead of them. Their eyes told the story, really. Confident and full of joy. As if nothing in the world could dampen the happiness surrounding them. The relaxed look of untested people.
His eyes drifted down along the faces of his children. Nine-year-old Larry, straight and proud beside him, and the twins, just seven, standing in front of their mama. And in the middle, eyes bright with innocence, was five-year-old Lee.
Forever five.
With the softest touch, Derrick brushed his thumb along the image of Lee’s arm, his face. “I miss you, son.” His words were a pained whisper. He closed his eyes, and for a minute he was back again, back at the hospital holding his son’s hand for the last time.
“You’re gonna…win it all, Daddy! The…Super Bowl.” His words were scratchy and strained, his eyes barely able to stay open.
This had been the running talk between him and Lee. Derrick had a Super Bowl ring for Larry and another for Lonnie. Now he needed one for Lee. Derrick couldn’t see for the tears flooding his eyes. “Okay, little man. I’ll win it all.”
“For me.” His breathing was labored, shallow and weak. “Win it…for me, Daddy. Like…we talked about.”
“I will, baby. I promise.”
“Daddy…” Lee’s eyes opened once more, one final time. He looked like an angel, his eyes bright with childlike love. He patted Derrick’s hand, soft and tender. “You’re my best…friend.”
The memory lifted and Derrick opened his eyes. That single promise had stayed with him every year, every spring training, and every summer camp. At the middle of every huddle, in the midst of every play, every game, he carried the promise in his heart.
Win it for me, Daddy.
No one knew how hard he’d tried, but every year his teams had come up a few plays short, a few wins shy of the title. The well ran dry in Chicago, and this past February he and his agent talked about it.
“Maybe it’s time to hang it up, Derrick. Go out standing tall.” His agent was a good guy, one of the last in the business. Not once did he make a deal unless it was right for Derrick, whether it was good for the agency or not.
But all Derrick could see were Lee’s eyes and the way he looked in the hospital bed that October day, an hour before he died. “No.” He worked the muscles in his jaw and gave a strong shake of his head. “I wanna play. One more season.” His look pleaded with his agent. “Find me the right team, man. I gotta win it all. One more time.”
Derrick ran his thumb over the framed photo again. His agent had settled on the 49ers. The big game had eluded them long enough, he said. “You might be the missing factor, Derrick.”
“How do you figure?” Derrick wasn’t convinced about San Francisco. There were other teams more likely to win a Super Bowl—teams like Indianapolis or New England.
“Because…” His agent smiled a knowing sort of smile. “You’re a champion. You know how to be a champion.” He wagged a finger in the air. “If you can teach that to Aaron Hill, the 49ers will be unstoppable.”
Derrick took a step back from the photograph. He walked into his closet and grabbed the first sweatshirt on a stack halfway up a row of shelves. He slipped it on and went out through the patio slider on the far side of the room. The kids were still playing outside, grabbing at every last minute of sunlight. He sat down and gingerly lifted his right leg onto the footstool.
They’d won their first preseason game, but what would happen from here on? Especially if Aaron needed backup? As if in answer, Derrick’s knee throbbed with every heartbeat. Here in this moment, futility breathed its hot breath on him. He could hardly picture winning a league game, let alone a Super Bowl. Doubts crowded him like so many cold shadows. He was a thirty-nine-year-old man with a bum knee. What could he possibly teach Aaron Hill about becoming a champion? And how—short of a miracle—could he keep his promise to Lee in this, his final season?
Derrick drank in a long gulp of fresh air and lifted his face to the sky.
I have nothing to offer, Lord. Nothing that’ll make a difference this season. But You’ve got my little boy, Father. And You know the promise I made him.
He blinked back tears, just as a breeze drifted over him. It stung at his eyes, and he squinted.
I want to win it for him, Lord. So bad. So very bad.
My son, when you are weak…then I am strong.
Almost as if they were carried on the wind, the words spoke to his soul, calming him, assuring him. The verse was engraved on a wooden plaque that hung in the hallway near the boys’ bedrooms. It was something he talked about with his kids often. How they shouldn’t fear weakness, because only in the impossible moments could God truly show His power.
Suddenly he was overwhelmed with a sense of hope and direction, determination and courage. He wouldn’t let an injury discourage him for all the games yet ahead. The season hadn’t even officially begun. He sat up straighter in his chair. He would help his team, if it took everything he had. Somehow, he would help them, and in the end his efforts would make all the difference. He could feel it in his aching bones. God shone best in impossible moments, right?
Derrick ran his fingers gently over his right knee. It was one more thing the Lord wanted to teach him through the coming season. Learning how to be weak, so that God could be strong.
Because as moments went, the idea of an old man with a bum knee helping a team win the Super Bowl was about as impossible as it could get.
C
ory watched out the window of their apartment, looking for the cab. Megan didn’t want to take BART today. Sometimes it got too crowded on game days, and this was a big game—preseason or not. Every time San Francisco played the Raiders, it was a big game. So all week she’d been saving her tips, putting a little extra aside. That way they’d have money for a cab, which was really special.
Only here was the weird thing. Aaron didn’t come to the pizza party last night. Cory got there early and so did Megan, and they waited. Because what was taking Aaron so long to talk about being a dad? He hadn’t called, so all week Cory figured he’d see Aaron at the youth center. Derrick was there, Jay Ryder too. But no Aaron.
Cory waited his turn for Derrick. The lines were shorter every week, since kids were getting used to the idea of Derrick Anderson. When Cory was next, he stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans and lifted one shoulder a few times. “Aaron didn’t come?”
“No.” Derrick looked sad at this. “He had other plans.”
“Oh.” Cory’s eyes fell to the floor for a few seconds. When he looked up, he tried to sound hopeful. “Maybe he’s getting ready for tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“We’re his guests for the Raiders game.” The words felt good to say. “He read the letter I gave him. That’s why.” He didn’t want to say too much.
Derrick patted Cory’s arm. “Maybe that’s it, then. Maybe he’s getting ready.”
“You’re gonna win tomorrow, right?”
“Of course.”
The conversation stayed with Cory all night and into this morning, but the part about Aaron didn’t really make sense. What would he need to do to get ready? After the game they were going out for burgers. So why would that make him busy on a Friday night. He talked to Megan about it when they walked home, but just a little.
“He probably had a hot date.” She laughed and took a few running steps ahead of him. “Come on, race you to the top of the hill.”
Megan was always doing that, changing the subject when the subject was Aaron. Cory still wasn’t sure why. She had to believe that Aaron was his father now. Otherwise, he never would’ve come to the youth center last week, and he wouldn’t have invited them to be his guests. Her doubts made him mad, so he didn’t bring up Aaron again last night.
“Cory? Any sign of the cab?” She was in the bathroom, doing something with her hair.
“Not yet.” He planted his elbows on the windowsill and stared down the street in either direction as far as he could see. “You almost ready?”
“Almost.”
Cory thought about wearing his Aaron Hill jersey, but he changed his mind at the last minute. First, he didn’t want Megan saying anything about how he was trying too hard. And second, that was his special jersey. The one he slept in. He couldn’t risk spilling mustard or Coke on it. Instead he wore the new 49ers T-shirt, the one he got in the drawing yesterday. That and his old faithful San Francisco baseball cap.
A yellow cab pulled up out front, and Cory jumped off the couch. “It’s here. The cab’s here!”
Megan stepped out of the bathroom, and for a minute Cory felt like he was seeing her for the first time. She wore a white shirt and jeans, but she had some of her hair pulled back. The rest was curlier than usual. Plus she had a little eye makeup on. At least it looked that way. “Wow.” He whistled at her. “You look pretty.”
“It’s a big day for us.” She took her bag from the table and held her hand out to him. “I’ve wanted to see a game in person forever. Just like you.”
Cory took her hand and they hurried out the apartment and down the stairs, ’cause the elevator was still on the fritz. He couldn’t help but think as they jogged out onto the street that maybe some of the reason why Megan looked pretty was because of Aaron. The way he’d looked at her that night a week ago at the pizza party.
But he said nothing. Instead, he took his seat, his heart pounding, and fastened his belt. The trip into the stadium was like the beginning of an adventure. He didn’t want to miss a minute of it. They drove down a few streets and up a few more, and then they turned onto a freeway, and then another freeway, and finally they got off at a street right next to the water.
Cory checked the sign and it said Gilman Avenue, Monster Park. ’Cause that’s what some people called it now, but not faithful fans like Megan and him. Candlestick. That’s what it was, and that’s what it would always be. The cab driver stayed on Gilman down toward the water and around the lower parking lots. Then he circled up and suddenly all the cars stopped. From every direction, cars were coming toward the stadium, hundreds of them. Maybe thousands even.
“Lots of traffic.” Megan looked out her window. “Hard to believe all these people fit into that stadium.”
The cab driver looked over his shoulder at her. “So right.” He had dark brown skin and an accent. “That’s why we need new stadium.” He brushed his hand at the traffic. “Crazy people sit in traffic three hours for game.”
Cory didn’t mind the line of cars. The waiting gave him time to watch the people. Everywhere he looked, cars were parked in the lot on the other side of the big fence. Barbecues were set up along every aisle. Cory rolled his window down, and the smell of cooked burgers and hotdogs filled the cab.
“Tailgating.” Megan leaned toward him and looked out his window. “People park early in the morning and eat their meals in the parking lot. It’s called tailgating.”
Cory stared at the people, at the celebrations they were having near one car after another. It was like a whole other world, the idea that people spent all day Sunday here. Back when his mom was alive, they spent Sunday at church. But Megan didn’t like church that much. So they spent Sundays cleaning the apartment and getting ready for Monday.
Cory could definitely do this, spend all day at a 49ers game. The barbecue smell made his stomach growl. Megan told him they’d get hot dogs before kickoff and then, of course, they were having dinner with Aaron. Cory looked at the faces scattered across the forever parking lot.
And I’m the only one having dinner with Aaron Hill
. The thought made him feel good again. Aaron wouldn’t have dinner with just any old kid from the youth center. It was on account of he was Aaron’s son.
He tugged on his baseball cap and studied the sidewalk. Streams of people walked along both sides, heading for the gate. It was easy to tell who were the Raider fans and who were the 49ers. People wore jerseys and carried flags. They had black painted on their faces or red, and some of them had big hats with
Raiders
or
49ers
on them. When a car passed by, some of the fans would wave their flags and shout through colorful megaphones something not so nice about the Raiders or 49ers. ’Cause this was a serious game.
Aaron had sent a special pass for the parking lot, and Megan took it from the envelope.
“Here.” She gave it to the cab driver. “This will get us up pretty close.”
The man looked at it, and his eyebrows shot up. “You must know someone important, lady. This is VIP.”
Cory wasn’t sure what VIP meant. Maybe something about Very Inside Parking. The cab driver switched lanes, and in a little while, he pulled up to a gate with no one in line. He showed the pass to the man stationed there, and the man waved him into the parking lot where all the other people were having their barbecue tailgating. They drove slowly past one little party after another, until they reached a gigantic sign with the letter
A
on it.
The driver stopped. “Here you are, lady.” He checked the red numbers on the box attached to his dashboard. “Eighteen dollars, fifty cents.”
Megan made a slight face, like it was hard for her to pay that much money for a car ride. But she pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to the driver. “Keep the rest.”
“Thank you.” He took the bill and grinned. “Have very good time!”
Cory’s eyes met the cab driver’s in the rearview mirror. “Go 49ers!”
“Go team.” The man waited until they were out, then he drove away.
Cory suddenly felt small. The crowd was all around him, and people were shouting and carrying drinks and food. A row of portable toilets stood close by, and Cory looked at Megan and made a face.
She nodded. “Me too.”
They walked to a line of six people waiting for a turn, and that gave Cory more time to watch the people. A man was shouting something about wanting tickets, and a trailer was set up close to the bathrooms. Inside was every kind of 49ers shirt or hat or souvenir a person could ever want. And everyone was eating something or drinking something.
A boy and his dad walked past, both of them chewing on corndogs, and headed for the big gate marked
A
. At the same time, a helicopter flew overhead, and behind it was a sign flapping in the wind. The sign read,
Here’s to Another Great Year! Go 49ers!
The place was like 49ers heaven.
After they used the bathrooms, they got in another line, the one going through the big gate. The man taking tickets looked at Megan’s and grinned. “Well, well…you’ve got the good seats!” He pointed up an escalator and told Megan to turn right at the top. “Box seats have a private elevator. The attendant will be just outside.”
A private elevator? Cory’s stomach did flip-flops inside him, and he was sort of out of breath. Like when he played soccer and it was the last minute of the game. He licked his lips and took Megan’s hand.
“Amazing, isn’t it?” She was watching everyone, just like he was.
“It’s perfect. Everything about it.”
The man in front of them wore a Raiders jersey. He turned around and noticed Cory’s 49ers T-shirt. He had a big cup of something, probably beer. When he raised it in the air, a little bit sloshed out. “May the best team win.”
Cory wanted to say that would be the 49ers, but he kept quiet. Megan told him some people took football very serious. So serious they might want to fight about their team. So Cory only nodded and smiled.
They reached the top of the escalator, and then after a little walk around to the right, they saw the private elevator.
“Should we get food first?” Cory stared at a food counter a few feet away. Lots of workers were busy handing out hot dogs and nachos and giant pretzels with creamy cheese. The people were loud all around them, so he raised his voice. “Huh, Megan, should we?”
“Not yet.” She took his hand and walked him to the man standing outside the private elevator. “Let’s find our seats first.”
The private elevator took them to a much quieter walkway. It was all cement, and it went in a circle around the stadium. A woman in a red suit led them for a little walk and then pointed them to a small flight of stairs and a door. “That’s Aaron Hill’s box.” She nodded to them. Then she went back to find the next people, probably.
Cory’s heart was beating so hard he wondered if Megan could hear it. She led the way down the few stairs and opened the door. The box turned out to be a little empty room with three rows of seats. Maybe twelve or fourteen spots altogether. And across the front was all glass and a fantastic view of…
“That’s the field!” Cory jogged down the last few stairs and put his face up close against the thick glass. He checked around it. “Is there a way to open the window? So we can hear what’s going on?”
Megan looked up and pointed. “They have speakers, so you can hear the announcer.”
“Oh.” Cory didn’t want to look disappointed. This was Aaron’s special spot, after all. But he wanted to be out there where the people were, where the action was. As close to the field as possible.
He dropped into the middle seat on the first row. “This is like a miracle, right Megan?”
“Pretty close.” She laughed. And just then, two men came into the little room. They both had on fancy suits and ties, and when they spotted Cory and Megan, they stopped.
The shorter guy looked at Megan. “Hi.” He made a strange face. “I’m Bill Bond, Aaron’s agent.” He nodded at the other guy. “This is Albert. He’s Aaron’s financial planner.”
Cory didn’t say so, but already he didn’t like Mr. Bond. He sounded not altogether nice, and maybe a little suspicious. Like how did Megan and Cory get in there, anyway.
“Megan Gunn.” She held out her hand and shook his. “Aaron invited me and my son to be his guests today.”
“Oh.” The man hesitated. After too long a pause, he smiled. “I see.” He switched his attention to Cory. “And what’s your name, young man?”
“Cory.” He stood, because his mom taught him that was polite when someone new came into the room. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yes.” He looked back at Megan and frowned. “Nice to meet you too.”
Megan took a few steps toward the door. “We were just going back up for a couple hot dogs.” She smiled, but it wasn’t in her eyes. “Would you gentlemen like something?”
“Uh…” Mr. Bond glanced over his shoulder at a big counter at the back of the room. “Catering will bring us whatever we want.” He did a curious laugh and looked strange at Megan. “That’s always how it is in the box.”
“Oh.” Megan didn’t look upset. “Well, Cory and I haven’t ever been to a 49ers game. Let alone in box seats.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Now we know.”
Megan walked back to the first row, and at the same time, the two men sat down.
“I wanna be outside,” Cory whispered. Only, because it was such a small little room, Mr. Bond heard him.
“You wanna be closer to the action, is that what I heard you say?” He walked down the couple steps and looked straight at Cory.
Cory gulped. Anything would be better than watching the game with this guy. “Yes, sir. But that’s okay.”
“Look.” He took a pair of tickets from his pocket. “I’ve got fifteenth row, fifty-yard line. Saving ’em for a buddy of mine.” He did a quick look back at the other guy. Then at Cory again. “How about you and your mom take these, and my buddy can sit up here with us?”
“Really?” Cory felt his heart beat hard again. Because that would be a perfect swap. He turned to Megan. “Can we?”
“Sure.” Megan did a little eyebrow raise at the men. “I think that would be better anyway.”
“Except,” Cory remembered something. “What about after the game? We’re supposed to meet Aaron here at the box.”