Chapter 31
Fin
The ceiling of my hotel room in the Lexington Embassy Suites wasn’t much different than the ceiling in any other hotel room anywhere in the country.
Seeing as I was again alone on the night before the game, Vee didn’t bring up changing the Coopers’ night-before-a-home-game practice.
Punching my pillow, I tried to get comfortable.
The cold mattress to my side wasn’t the only cause of my inability to sleep.
Tomorrow, the Coopers were playing the Jaguars for the second time this season.
A month ago, we played them in Jacksonville.
The penalty put us at first down on the Jags’ forty-two-yard line. With another quarter still left to play, I called for an RPO—run pass option. Spencer snapped the ball. I stepped back, reading my progressions. JD was open downfield. My timing felt right.
The Jags’ cornerback cut right, caught my pass, and ran it into the Coopers’ end zone.
In one fucking play, I’d caused the Coopers to be down by five points.
The Jags went for two points and failed.
The next time the offense took the field, Pratt put Dennison back in.
We went four and out. In the fourth quarter, our special teams made a tremendous kick return, and Malik Johnson ran eighty-eight yards for a touchdown.
Score was 28–26.
The Jags again took the field. They whittled down the clock and in the final seconds scored a field goal. We left Florida with our first loss.
To say I took it well would be a completely erroneous statement.
The rules of professional football were to concentrate on the next opponent.
My mind wouldn’t let me forget the interception that cost us the game.
It wasn’t until we were supposed to be concentrating on the Houston Texans that Pratt sat me down and told me to get out of my own head.
The Coopers made many mistakes the Sunday we played the Jags in Jacksonville.
He said it was egotistical of me to think my mistake was the one that cost us the game.
I knew he was right.
Which only pissed me off more.
It wouldn’t matter how many perfect plays I made in practice. I wanted to be on the field during a game. I was determined not to let my last pass of the season be an interception.
The next week, the Coopers beat the Texans in Crystal Light.
The following week, the Coopers beat the 49ers, and last week we beat the Colts, both in their respective stadiums.
We were a month out from our one loss and about to face the Jaguars again. Our record was 14–1. The Jaguars’ record was 10–5, currently ranking them third in our division. We held on to our first-place ranking by a thread. The Texans were in second place with a 14–2 record.
Tomorrow was our last home game before the playoffs, and the following week we will face the Texans for the second time in Houston.
The fucking season was coming down to two divisional games.
The Texans have a bye this week. If we win today’s game, we’ll go to 15–1.
If we lose, we’ll have the same record as the Texans.
Either way, divisional championship will come down to next week’s game.
If we win today and lose next week, our two teams will have a tied record.
I’d done the math in my head over and over.
The NFL had a specific, multistep tiebreaking system to determine the divisional winner involving head-to-head record, division record, and common game record.
One more loss would send us to the wild-card round.
One of the reasons I wasn’t currently sleeping was because in the past four weeks, I hadn’t been given the opportunity to redeem myself.
Dennison has taken every snap, secured every first down, and thrown every touchdown pass.
The kid was a star in the making—I wasn’t arguing that.
I simply wanted a chance for redemption.
Another heavy thought weighing on my mind was that before tomorrow’s game will be another moment of silence and the commemoration of life for Reid Hubbard at Crystal Light.
A banner with his name will hang from the rafters and fly next to the one bearing his father’s name.
I knew how much time Vee put into tomorrow’s less-than-five-minute presentation.
And because of a stupid NFL rule, she was home in her condo thinking about what would happen—alone.
There had been few changes or updates in the last month with her father’s murder case.
Vee said her attorney told her that these cases like his weren’t solved like they were on television.
It took time to gather witnesses and evidence.
The same could be said about Reid’s estate.
In the almost three months since his death, his assets and debts were still being assessed, and the attorneys had filed multiple motions.
A check of the clock on the bedside stand told me it was after three in the morning. As badly as I wanted to talk to Vee, I knew she should be asleep. I should be asleep. Getting out of bed, I downed a bottle of water, checked my alarm on my phone, and put a pillow over the damn clock.
Sleep must have come sometime during the early hours of the morning as I woke to my alarm. Seconds after silencing the noise, my phone rang. Vee’s name was on the screen.
“I wish I was next to you,” I said in way of answering.
“I wish you were too.”
Damn it was good to hear her voice.
“Did I wake you?” she asked.
Sitting up, I moved my feet to the floor and ran my free hand over my scratchy face. “My alarm just went off. How are you doing with today’s tribute for your dad?”
Vee sighed. “I think I’m good. It’ll be nice to see his name up there with Grandpa Carroll’s. I’m calling because I wanted to tell you I love you.”
My cheeks rose. “I love you, Vee Hubbard.”
“Whether you play or not, you’re a talented quarterback who saved the Coopers’ season. You know that, right?”
“Is this a pep talk?”
“It is,” she said. “Our bubble goes both ways, Fin. I can tell when you’re upset about something, and it all goes back to the first game against the Jaguars. The Coopers’ team made mistakes.”
“I want a chance to redeem myself,” I confessed.
“If it is any consolation, you have completely redeemed yourself to me.”
“It is.” I inhaled. “At least, when I’m not on the field, I get a better view of my favorite lady.”
“You’re also not getting knocked down by big men. I like that part.”
I couldn’t argue with that reasoning.
“I’ll see you after the game,” Vee said. “I need to go.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The game-day schedule didn’t vary much from team to team.
By nine thirty a.m., the team was loaded on the bus and on our way to Crystal Light Stadium.
We arrived before ten in the morning. Those of us who needed the help of our athletic trainers went straight to their in-stadium facility.
Even though my rib wasn’t sore, the trainers insisted on taping my torso prior to each game.
Before eleven o’clock we were served a pregame meal, usually high carb and high protein. Today’s menu consisted of chicken, beans, and rice. Next, we split up into special team and position meetings. There were four of us at the quarterback meeting: Dennison, Simpson, Jackson, and me.
Coach Garcia didn’t focus on the mistakes we made in our first game against the Jags. Instead, he emphasized our potential and reviewed film of the Jags’ defense. They favored man coverage, creating fewer open windows for long passes.
It was noon as we ran out onto the field.
High above, the roof of Crystal Light was closed, saving us from the colder December temperatures.
Around the stadium the seats were beginning to fill with amber.
The most beautiful woman in the world was standing on the sideline.
Her sexy cowboy boots could be seen below her flowing amber skirt.
I paused as I looked up in the direction she was staring.
The banner with Carroll Hubbard’s name was no longer alone.
At its side was the new banner honoring Reid Hubbard.
The Coopers warmed up on one end of the field and the Jaguars on the other end. With fifteen minutes to go before game time, Coach Tilson gave his rousing locker-room speech.
“The Coopers are winners,” he said.
“Winners,” we repeated in unison.
“You’re the Coopers,” Tilson screamed. “You’ve got this.”
“We’ve got this, Coach.”
“You’re going to show those fans out there that the Coopers will bring the playoff games back to Lexington.”
For the record, the divisional winning team would host the playoff games for the divisional and conference rounds up until the Super Bowl. Our division win wasn’t secure.
“We’ve got this, Coach,” the hefty testosterone chant filled the air.
The locker-room doors opened, and we followed Coach Tilson through the tunnel filled with flashing lights and smoke. AC/DC’s Thunderstruck blasted from the PA system as fireworks exploded from the four corners of the stadium.
The Big Hurt’s booming voice echoed. “Ladies and gentlemen, your Lexington Coopers.”
The air filled with cheers from our hometown fans.
“Coopers’ fans, please stand and join the Hubbard and Marsh family in remembrance of our late owner, Reid Hubbard.”
Vee’s family was with her on the sideline. Together, Daphne, Vee, her aunt, uncle, and cousins all walked onto the field. Throughout the stadium people stood and removed their hats. The team stood shoulder to shoulder in silence.
The stadium darkened, and a spotlight beamed onto the newest banner.
The spotlight moved to the family on the field. Vee held a microphone. I swallowed the concoction of emotions I didn’t expect to feel.
Sadness for the loss of never knowing Reid Hubbard.
And immense pride in the woman facing the sellout crowd.
“Thank you,” Vee said, addressing the crowd. “I’m Maeve Hubbard.”
The crowd cheered.
“Thank you for honoring the man, the owner of the Coopers, who was also a father, brother, husband, and uncle. My father had a vision that I believe will one day come to fruition.” Her voice got louder. “The next banner we hang in Crystal Light will say Super Bowl winners.”
A smile curled my lips as everyone cheered, the decibels reaching a fevered pitch.
The lights brightened around the stadium as the Hubbards and Marshes walked off the field, and a large flag was unfurled.
The Big Hurt spoke. “Today, we have the honor of having members of the Lexington Division of Fire and Emergency Services with us. These brave individuals are the heroes who responded to Reid Hubbard’s accident and hundreds of emergencies daily.
We thank them for their service.” The crowd cheered.
“Now, let us welcome Juliette Skyes from Mr. Hubbard’s alma mater, the University of Kentucky, as she sings our national anthem. ”
The crowd remained standing as the singer’s voice reverberated throughout Crystal Light. As she belted out the high notes, my dad’s mantra filled my thoughts.
Learn something—anything.
Never give up.
Play your absolute best, better than your last game, but not as good as your next.
Troy Dennison and Kai Flores walked onto the field for the coin toss.