Chapter 30
MADDOX
Ihave a definitive order of ranking my favorite kinds of football games to play solely based on atmosphere. They’re listed into regular season games and playoff games because you can’t compare the two.
And yes, they’re written in a notebook.
The honorable mentions of my regular-season rankings are the classics—rivalry games and revenge games. There’s a different vibe in the air when you know you’re going to be facing an opponent you hate, or they hate you. But in my rankings, there are better games.
Third place is when you clinch your playoff berth. Home or away, doesn’t matter. That feeling of relief when you know your season's going past New Year’s, and that you have the chance to be the best in the league, is something only players know.
The second best is the home opener. No matter the kind of season you had the year before, the first game in front of your home fans always has an energy that can't be beat.
Which means the only thing better than a home opener, is a home opener when you’re raising the championship banner.
Fucking best game ever.
The atmosphere here today is insane. Normally, the champs will have the first game of the season, but weird scheduling snafus meant we opened on the road.
Doesn’t matter to us. All that means is now we’re 1-0 after a dominant Monday night performance, and the fans are bringing that energy here tonight.
People give Nashville a lot of shit for being a town full of transplants—which it is.
But when you have a good team that fans can rally behind?
Our town shows up and shows out. Just like they are today.
This is my third championship banner game, and each of them is special. But without a doubt this has personally been my favorite, and that’s because of who’s here today.
My girl. Wearing my jersey.
I take my eye away from the game for a second to glance up to the suite I know she’s in—a few of the WAGs get one every year to be away from the crowds and they made sure to bring Gabi in there today so she would be more comfortable.
I don’t even try to hide the smile on my face as I look up at her.
The jersey I got her would normally have been swimming on her, but it’s the perfect size to hug her bump.
Her face is glowing as she talks to a few of the other wives and girlfriends.
Ainsley is standing next to her, wearing a similar jersey, only that one I know says Kincaid on the back.
The two are talking to Lucy, our quarterback Bryce’s wife, who is balancing a toddler on her hip.
It warms my heart that Gabi is already fitting in. Like I knew she would.
“You know we’re going to have to go make a final stop. Think you can take your eyes off your girl for that long?”
The words come from Austin Keller, the rookie linebacker who was my roommate through training camp and has gotten a good amount of reps in today. Not many rookies do, but this guy is the real deal.
I give one more look to Gabi before bumping shoulders with Keller. “Let’s go put this fucking thing away.”
As if on cue, our defensive coaches call out for us to assemble as the punt unit runs off the field.
Our offense has done a good job for most of the day of getting us in scoring position, but Cincinnati is no slouch.
They were a playoff team last year for a reason, which is why the game is as close as it is.
Our defense has bent but hasn’t broken, and we need to do that one more time to make sure we’re 2-0 going into next week, when we head to Philadelphia to play the Kings.
“Do you have one more drive in you?” The question comes from my head coach, Hunter McAvoy.
“You know I do.”
He slaps me upside the helmet, a classic move by all football coaches. “Don't get a penalty. Keep them out of the end zone. And whatever you do, keep your man the fuck in bounds. Make them burn their last time out.”
“I’ll do you one better, Coach. I'll just pick it off.”
The look my coach gives me says all I need to know—quit being a cocky asshole. But also, go intercept up the fucking ball.
He knows by now I can be both.
I run back on the field, Keller next to me as we head into the huddle.
Our defensive captain reminds us of our scheme before we break apart, much earlier than the offense across from us does.
Cincinnati has one timeout left and there’s a minute and thirty left on the clock.
They’re back on their thirty-five-yard line, meaning they have ninety seconds to try and make it sixty-five yards.
But like I told Coach, they won’t be going anywhere.
I look at how Cincinnati is lining up, and they’re playing with an empty backfield, knowing they have to pass on every down to have a prayer of winning this game.
They have three receivers to the right, a receiver to the left along with the tight end.
He’s who I’ve had to keep my eye on for most of the game, which I’ve done and done well.
But I don’t think he’s the first option.
Cincinnati runs this formation a lot in their two-minute drill, but the beauty of their play is that it never goes to the same receiver twice in a row, so it could be going anywhere.
The quarterback starts his cadence, everyone waiting to jump off the line the second he calls the play.
That is, everyone except me. As a free safety, I’m in the back and looking.
Trying to figure out where he’s going to throw it.
Again, I don’t think it’s going to be the tight end.
He’s not a downfield receiver and they need yards.
I also don’t think they’re going to go to their top receiver.
He has more than a hundred yards today, but we’re choosing to double team him, and they aren’t going to like those odds.
When I look to my left, I see that it’s their number two receiver lined up next to the tight end.
The guy can make plays. He's a veteran in the league. He might’ve lost a few steps, but he can still ball.
And because our defense overloaded on the right side, it means he’s going to likely be the most open.
That is until I get over there.
The quarterback snaps the ball and it’s a flurry of motion as everyone runs their lanes or routes. I’m cheating my way to his side, more confident than ever that’s where the ball is going to go. When I see the quarterback turn to his right, my left, I know I’ve made the right call.
Which is when I take off.
Part of being an elite safety is all about timing. Many players can pick off a pass. It’s part of the job. But perfectly timing the ball so the receiver doesn’t see you coming? That's an art. One that I've perfected.
The pass is in the air as I pick up my speed.
The receiver doesn’t see me coming. He’s too worried about making sure he catches the ball and staying in bounds.
Too bad that’s not going to happen.
I pause for a half second before making my move.
Step.
Step.
Jump.
Grab.
Interception.
I keep my eyes open as I fall to the ground. I would’ve loved to get a few yards, but as I was securing the ball, I fell to the ground, and Cincinnati quickly piled on top of me.
Sorry guys. Ball is mine. And with less than two minutes on the clock, we’re about to win the fucking game.
2-0.
“Maddox! Your first interception of the season, and a pretty big one at that. How’d you feel out there?”
“It always feels good to pick one off, but when it seals the game, it’s a little sweeter,” I say to the reporter. “But more than that, I’m glad we got the win. It was a total team effort out there today.”
I’m standing in front of my locker, the media scrum enclosing me in, as reporters shout their postgame questions.
This is typical for postgame. A few cameras are around—one being the team’s camera as they air each of the interviews live.
Usually, I don’t mind fielding questions.
I know I’m a favorite sound bite because I generally don’t hold back, while also pleasing our media and PR team by giving canned answers as well.
But today, I’m anxious to get out of here.
I have my girl waiting for me at home—our home—and hopefully I’m greeted by her wearing nothing but that jersey.
“Maddox!” I point to a reporter I’m friendly with, who’s covered the Fury for a few years now at the Nashville Banner. “Are the rumors true? You have a little one on the way?”
It was only a matter of time before the pregnancy became public.
Gabi didn’t come to any of the family days at training camp.
Not that she didn’t want to, but because it didn’t line up with her schedule at the bakery as she was still getting Josie settled in at the time.
But with the season starting, and anyone who had eyes could see her in the suite today wearing my jersey, I knew I could get this question.
“That’s right folks! Maddox Gallagher is going to be a dad!”
I get a few congratulations from the reporters, as well as some cheers from teammates who can hear the interview, before the reporter has a follow-up. “When is she expecting?”
“November 1. And it can’t come soon enough. Gabi and I are both ready for our little guy to get here.”
A different reporter throws up her hand. “November 1 is the rematch against Miami. Do you know if you’re going to be traveling with the team or are you going to stay at home for the birth?”
Gabi and I haven’t explicitly talked about this, but I’ve discussed it with my coaches.
“If she’s in labor, or if it’s anywhere close, I’m going to be there for her.
Would I like to be with my team? Absolutely.
But my family is going to come first. Always.
Plus, I have a feeling Miami doesn’t want anything to do with me.
Last time they faced me it didn’t go well for them.
I’m pretty sure they’d fund my son’s college education for me not to play them again. ”