Page 46 of Game Day

“That was insane,” Miles calls as he steps off the school bus, hi-fiving Rookie as we follow the campers into the dining hall at Kodiak Camp.

I get what he means. The adrenaline pumping through my veins is usually reserved for game.

Turns out the kids who found us were wearing not only Kodiaks colors but Kodiaks Foundation Camp shirts. I don’t know any of them by name, but more than one face is familiar from the time I’ve spent at the camp over the years.

They smuggled us out to their bus and convinced the driver to take us back with them, helping avoid the shitstorm that would’ve happened in a few more minutes.

The staff make room for us at dinner, then invite us to join the campers around the evening’s bonfire.

It’s not what we planned. It’s better.

The vibe is charged but it’s a different energy. These kids don’t want a piece of us, they want to be us.

The campers jump in with questions. "What's it like to play pro?"

"Hard," I admit. "It's the hardest thing in the world.”

“And the best one,” Miles weighs in.

"But now that you've won, it gets easier?"

Jay's the first to answer. "Seeing how amped everyone is around here… we appreciate it, but it adds to the pressure."

“You have lots of money. And fame. You can do anything you want.”

“Not everyone’s in the same position,” I point out. “Some guys off the bench need every contract negotiation, every season, every game to make it work.”

“But you don’t.”

I think of Nova. “I’ve got people I want to impress. That never goes away.”

They’re quiet a minute, processing.

“But the winning is fucking great,” one kid adds with a laugh.

“Yeah. It’s pretty fucking great,” I admit.

We hang out with the kids for a while, then the counselors force them off to bed. When it's just us left around the fire, we fall silent. The flames crackle, heat licking the wood until it snaps and pops.

"You ever go to camp here?" Rookie asks, looking around. "Seems like a cool place."

"Not here, but a place like it," I say. "Best part was sneaking food out of the kitchen… and swimming."

“What’s that sound?” Jay demands, and they all look around.

“It’s my stomach. Come on,” I say.

We break into the kitchen for midnight snacks, then roast the marshmallows we found over the fire. We cackle like little kids.

“Two days until game day,” Jay notes.

“The wedding?” My lips twitch at his description.

"Forget the season, this is a big deal. You'll be the first one married,” Atlas says to me. “You're going to have kids and forget all about us."

"It’ll never happen," I say firmly.

"Things will be different this year. Not only with you being married, but the team coming off the championship,” Miles says.

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