by Lucy Snow
When game time came around, I sat with the Patriots fans as usual, still wearing my disguise. As always, no one recognized me, and I cheered as loudly and as lustily as the best of them.
On the inside, though, I was hurting. I was still torn up about having hurt Hud like that by coming off like I didn’t believe him, even though I did, with all my heart. I hadn’t been able to find the right time at the facility to talk to him about it and apologize, and Hud hadn’t responded to any of my text messages, so I had stopped.
I didn’t know what else to do, I hoped that I could find a way to make things right between us soon enough. I missed being around Hud, I missed talking to him, and I missed kissing him and feeling his arms around me. Nothing else compared to that feeling I got when he looked at me with those smoldering eyes of his.
The game started off as we in the front office had expected. Denver’s defense was stifling, but we managed to score some points thanks to timely strikes from Lance Parker to Drake Rollins. On the other side of the ball it was a different story. The aging quarterback who had been playing in Denver for a couple years after a decade-plus run in Indianapolis somehow decided to play out of his mind again and our defense was getting hammered.
We just couldn’t break up any of their plays - our defense looked disorganized and unprepared. As I looked down onto the field with my binoculars, as Denver was just about to score their third touchdown of the first half, I immediately knew what the problem was.
Asher wasn’t in the game. I glanced over at the bench on the other side of the field and after a few seconds I saw him sitting there, his head in his hands, shaking it slowly as he glumly watched the defense get taken to school again.
What was Armstrong thinking!? Asher was the only one who could stem this tide and keep the score even remotely balanced, and there he was, cooling his jets on the sideline, riding the pine.
As the first half ended, Hud hadn’t even stepped onto the field after pre-game warmups. I knew what I had to do. I got out of my seat, and walked down to the field level. As one of the guards stopped me, I reached into my hoody and pulled out my all-access team pass and they moved aside. I left it hanging out, knowing I’d need it again soon.
I found my way to the tunnel after getting through a couple more layers of guards and then to the visitors’ locker room. Coach Armstrong had just finished his speech to the team, trying to rally them for the second half, when I tapped on his shoulder and pulled him aside.
“I don’t have time for this crap, Mack, and I don’t care who your father is right now,” Coach Armstrong said after the two of us had ducked around a corner. He pointed up at a clock that counted down from 20 minutes. “When this is done we gotta get back out there, and if we don’t win this game-“
“Spare me, Coach, I understand how clocks work, and how much time till the game resumes. And, for good measure, I even know that if we don’t win this game our season is over.”
Coach Armstrong looked like someone had cold-cocked him across the face. I could tell he wasn’t used to anyone talking to him like this, much less a woman. His face clouded up as he recovered. “What can I do for you, Miss Mayfield?” He practically spat my name out.
If he were any other man I would give him a dressing down, but this was neither the time nor the place. I had to be as diplomatic as I could, without treading on his authority. “Our defense is getting hammered out there.”
Coach Armstrong looked at the clock again. “You let me know if you’re going to give me any new information or are you just going to waste my time.”
“You need to put Hudson Asher back in the game, Coach.” I put as much gentle force into my voice as I could.
“Asher’s under investigation.”
“Yes, but the league has said he can play during the investigation.”
Coach Armstrong squared up, crossing his arms under his chest. “I won’t have a player like that representing this team. And your father would agree with me. He wouldn’t want your mother’s legacy to be tainted.”
I put my hands on my waist. “My father loves Hudson Asher, and believes in him. I believe in him too. And my father would want my mother remembered through winning it all. And as you so neatly started to remind me, if we don’t win this game, Coach, the season is over. Hudson Asher can help us win this game, and the league is letting him play.”
Coach Armstrong said nothing, but I could see that he was starting to crack.
“I am confident that he will be exonerated by the league. Confident enough that I am telling you that we won’t win without him, and if that happens, in 2 hours you’re gonna wish you’d made a different decision, because our season will be over.”
He still said nothing.
“Asher gives us the best chance to win, Coach. Despite the defensive coordinator’s best efforts, our defense is running around out there like a chicken with its head cut off. We need someone who can be a general on the field, who can put the guys in the right places based on reading the offense. Asher’s the best we got at it. Do we have an understanding?”
Coach Armstrong looked like he hadn’t heard a word I had just said.
I let the silence hang there long past when it started to get uncomfortable.
Finally, Coach Armstrong spoke. “I have to get back in there. I’ll keep what you said in mind.”
I nodded, and he turned around and walked away.
“Coach,” I called after him. Coach Armstrong stopped and turned his head back to me. “My father wants to honor my mother’s memory by winning it all this year.”
“I know that,” Coach Armstrong replied as he rounded the corner and left my view.
I had done all I could. I wanted to go back to the locker room and see Hud, talk to him, apologize to him, but there was no way I could do that now, not with the other players around, and not while the game was still in doubt.
All I could do was go back to my seat and watch, hoping that I had convinced Coach Armstrong that Hudson Asher was an asset we couldn’t afford to keep off the field, not when the game was this important, not when a trip to the championship was on the line.
I got a hot dog and nachos on my way back to my seat, sitting down just as the second half started. We started on offense, continuing with Coach Armstrong’s tradition of deferring to the second half, and Lance worked off a double team on Drake to throw a quick pass to the running back in space, scoring a quick touchdown. The Patriots’ crowd went wild.
When our defense came back out on the field, I pulled my binoculars up immediately, searching the bench for Hud. I couldn’t find him after a few seconds, which didn’t mean much; he could be in the locker room still or walking around getting a drink. I scanned the field, and was shocked to find his number there, jumping up and down.
Coach Armstrong had listened to me and put Hud back on the field for the second half. I wanted to jump up and shout but I held myself in check. The game started again, and Hud was like a force of nature out there - wherever the ball was headed, he was there, making the stop himself, or moving the right guy into place.
The third quarter ended without Denver scoring another point, mostly due to Hud’s on the field efforts. I glanced at the sidelines through my binoculars as Hud came off the field after helping force a Denver 3-and-out, and Coach Armstrong actually patted him on the back. I saw Hud stiffen at first, but when he turned around to sit on the bench, facing me, I could see the joy and happiness in his face, and my heart jumped out across the field at him.
I missed him so much, but I was so thrilled that he had gotten back on the field and could do what he loved again. The rest of the game went like that - we scored once more, giving us the lead, and Hud and the defense held down the fort and prevented Denver from scoring anymore.
When the clock hit 0, I hugged the new friends I had made in the stands and ran down to the field level after once again digging my field access pass out. I hurried into the locker room just in time to hear my father and the coaches con
gratulate the team.
I caught Hud’s eyes as he watched the end of the speech, and he and I nodded to each other, a small smile on his face that sent me over the moon. I didn’t want to tell him what I had done, how I had helped him get back on the field. It was enough for me to know that I had done my part to help him out.
The event wasn’t over, though. This was a conference championship win, so we had to go back out on the field, my father and I, and accept the conference trophy from the commissioner. It was a nice trophy, but it was a mere formality - the big one was coming in two weeks. It was going to be us against the Seattle Seahawks, who had just won their conference championship a couple hours before our game.
I was already looking forward to it, and I could tell the rest of the team was too.
We had a chance to be remembered forever, and it all would come down to one game.
And if Hudson Asher was allowed to play, we’d have a shot to win it all.
CHAPTER 20 - HUDSON
Somehow the beat writers and the players both decided that I was the hero of the championship game, even though I’d only played the second half. Lance and Drake had tried to carry me off the field, but it had taken a couple more of the bigger guys on the team helping out before they were able to get me off the ground.
After the game was over there was nothing but a sea of happy faces and congratulations. I made eye contact with Mack in the locker room, and we smiled at each other, but we didn’t get a chance to talk. I made a note to find her later.
Drake and Lance wouldn’t shut up at the win, and after we each finished with our press conferences, Lily and Charlotte were there to greet each of them and I, and I had to suppress a wave of jealousy as each of my brothers picked up their girls and kissed them hard, sharing in their success together.
I was beyond happy with the game, that I had gotten to play, and that we had gotten the win against a really good team. We were going to the championship game, and if I could get out from under the cloud of the league’s investigation and just play as hard as I could, I knew we’d have a chance, even against the vaunted Seattle Seahawks.
Still, though, as I saw Drake and Lance celebrate with their girls, I knew what was wrong - Mack wasn’t here, and even if she was, I couldn’t celebrate with her openly like these guys could. And Mack was the person I wanted to share this with more than anyone in the world. It killed me that I couldn’t.
I even went to look for her before we got back on the bus to the hotel, but I couldn’t find her anywhere. We got back and each of us relaxed for a little while, then Drake, Lance, and I went out to dinner. We chose the nicest restaurant we could find in Denver and then camped out there long into the night, having a few drinks and talking.
I had a blast, but I noticed that Drake and Lance would each always somehow bring the conversations back to Lily and Charlotte, and how great their lives were now. It was funny how different each of them had become in just a few months. I had heard stories of Drake’s now-legendary prowess with the ladies in college, and I had known Lance long enough to know that when the season wasn’t on, he was with a new girl every few nights.
All of that was different now - it was as if both those guys had seen the light, the error of their ways. Maybe error was putting it poorly - now they had found something better than the revolving doors they had enjoyed before.
Now they were more mature. As I sat there in the booth, laughing and joking with them, taking sips from my drink, I wondered if I was the kind of guy who could settle down like that. Could I find someone that I could be with, someone who was enough for me that I wouldn’t look elsewhere?
Then it hit me - what if I had already found her? Mack consumed my thoughts when I wasn’t playing football or getting ready for a game. I already felt more strongly about her than any other girl I’d ever dated, and Mack and I weren’t even dating for real yet.
I got quiet, letting Drake and Lance take over the conversation as I drew inward and thought about it a little more. When Mack had doubted me with the PED stuff, it had shaken me to my core, something I hadn’t expected at all.
But would things with her work out? Could they? Mack was a rich girl, a high society girl. Sure, she was also really smart, way smarter than me, but I was just a kid from the wrong side of the tracks who had managed to make a good life for himself because I was able to beat people up on a football field.
Could we be together and make it work? I just didn’t have an answer for that.
The next morning after everyone had gotten the partying that comes with after winning a conference championship game a little out of their system, we flew back to Foxboro. Unlike a normal schedule, the championship game wasn’t this coming weekend, it was the weekend after, so we had a little more time.
That didn’t mean the pace let up at all, not even for a moment. This game was for all the marbles, and in addition to travel and practice we also each had to do tons of media availability. It was easy to get lost in all the commotion, but all of us on the team and the training staff knew we had one goal, and that was to win the championship for New England.
Everything else could wait.
As soon as we got back to the facility the day after the flight back, I went to Mack’s office. I could see through the glass wall that she was there, and when I tapped on the glass, she looked up and we locked eyes for the first time since right after that championship game. I gave her a little smile, and Mack nodded to me, standing up. I opened her door and stepped inside, closing it behind me.
“Hey, Mack,” I started, suddenly not sure what to say.
“Hud, good to see you,” Mack said, diplomatically. “Great game on Sunday, we needed you out there.”
“Yeah, I dunno why Coach Armstrong changed his mind, but it was great to get back out on the field. I’m just happy that I could help out the team.”
Mack looked like she wanted to speak, but she just opened her mouth and then closed it, like she thought better of herself. “Hud,” she said, when she opened her mouth again.
“Yeah?”
“I wanted to apologize to you for what I said a few nights ago. I should never have questioned you.”
“It’s OK, Mack,” I said, softly. I knew she meant it, I could see it in her face. I wanted to rush over to her side of the desk and take her into my arms and kiss her till she understood that I forgave her, but we both knew I couldn’t do that, not in public like this.
“The investigator got back to me this morning.”
“Oh?” My ears perked up. “Did he find anything?”
Mack picked up a folder and opened it, rifling through the pages inside. “He found…a lot, actually.”
My heart sank. “What does that mean?”
“It means the testing facility the league used for your test has had some known issues with keeping up to standards, and there were significant problems with testing your sample.”
“Give it to me plain, Mack, what does it mean?”
She paused before lighting up. “It means the league is going to announce in an hour that you’ve been completely exonerated, Hud. You’re cleared to play in the championship game next week with no reservations.”
“HOLY SHIT!” I shouted, sure that people in the other offices could hear me, but I couldn’t care less in the moment. I could feel the tears welling up, and I tried to shake them away. Hudson Asher didn’t cry. “Thank you, Mack,” I blubbered.
Mack kept on smiling. “No, thank you, Hud,” she whispered. “I never doubted you - it just came out wrong.” She looked down at her table and shuffled her papers around. “I can be a little awkward around people, sometimes.”
