Page 18 of A Game as Old as Time

He kept replaying his father’s voice in his head as he kneeled by himself in the endzone.

You can do this.

He gathered his strength and finally stood. The eyes of the entire town seared his neck. The pregame warmups were still going on, but all the attention from the stands had fallen on him.

“G!” Ty was behind him now. “You ready for this?”

Maybe?

Gunner took one more deep breath and put his fingers in front of his mouth, whispering to himself.

It’s what you do with those moments.

He bent down, grabbing the white and blue helmet at his feet. The reflection of his face in the polished helmet greeted him as the burning lights above intensified.

In the past, this was where he had felt at home. The fresh smell of cut grass, the lights beaming down, and the crowd screaming. He always felt safe between these lines, like he could accomplish anything or take on anyone.

Just be yourself.

“Let’s do this,” he said unconvincingly, but it was enough to spring Ty into motion.

They took off to the sideline, Gunner surveying the crowd until he found his mom in the bleachers. She was up near the press box, where she always sat, but he could tell that something was different tonight. A slight shimmer that he knew was a tear glistened on her cheek.

Don’t cry.

He jogged briskly to the bench and grabbed some water. A cotton taste he had never experienced before a game was spreading down his throat.

“Gunner.” The voice was soft and made him twist around.

P.

Peyton stood in her cheerleading outfit behind the bench as tears built in her eyes.

No.

“Hey, it’s alright.” He ran over and hugged her tightly.

“Are you OK?” she mumbled as the tears began to stream down.

“I’m OK, little sis.” He tried to recall that forced smile he had been practicing. “Going to win this for him tonight.” He squeezed her one more time and kissed her on the head. “Just you watch.”

They inhaled as one before separating; for a few seconds, Gunner struggled to let go.

It’s OK, baby sis.

Peyton had been so strong over the last few months, but the way she looked tonight, with mascara smearing under her eyes, made his insides churn. The look of pure sadness mixed with exhaustion was too much.

“Give Mom a wave.” He knew she needed it too. The weight he had felt in the endzone was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

“Thanks, Gunner,” Peyton whispered, her voice cracking as three othercheerleaders came to walk her back to the track.

It’s what you do with your moments.

He took a few more deep breaths before throwing on his helmet and beginning a slow jog to his teammates. Coach Bianchi had waited for him, and the whole team welcomed him with pats and cheers.

“Let’s go, G!” Emilio shouted, slapping him on the helmet.

OK, here we go.

---