I had been torn about watching Lance play right from the start. My job was to keep him healthy, to keep him strong and ready to play. His job was to go out and play.
Football is a terribly violent sport. It’s basically modern gladiatorial combat, only this time the players trade weapons for thick padding and helmets. That may sound like it’s better, but it’s really not, mainly because they use those pads and helmets like weapons, turning themselves into human missiles targeting each other.
So watching Lance go out there and get beaten up while his brothers tried to protect him was painful at best for me. Very quietly I was happy that he wasn’t playing.
That all changed in the second half, when the Patriots came out of the tunnel and I saw Lance wearing his helmet instead of a ball cap. Coach Armstrong had made a quarterback change, holy shit!
I was conflicted - thrilled that Lance was finally going to get to play again, and worried that he could re-aggravate that right knee injury, or even worse - get hurt some other new way.
Such was the nature of professional football. Every player played hurt all the time - it was a matter of managing the pain and getting through the season while racking up enough wins to…keep on doing it for a few more weeks!
All for the glory of the game. And of course, the millions of dollars and millions of adoring fans. Those were both a big part of it.
Still, seeing Lance out there was incredible. It only made the weight of what I had done in ending things between us all the more painful, like twisting the knife.
I wanted him to do well and stay healthy - I couldn’t turn off my feelings toward him like I could turn off a light switch, but seeing him out there just made me feel worse.
I almost wanted to leave and go back into the facility, but something kept me there. I just had to see how he played, and I was expected to be on the sidelines in case an injury occurred.
I hoped more than anything in the world that wouldn’t happen.
The game started and I watched Lance play in a real game for the first time in almost two months. It was electrifying seeing how comfortable he was in the pocket, how quickly he made his reads and threw to the right receiver - most often Drake Rollins.
They worked so well together, it was almost as if they could communicate telepathically. They joked about it between themselves, but it was really quite breathtaking to watch.
When the offense came off the field after scoring a field goal, leaving the Patriots only down 4, Lance came off the field to watch the defense take the field. He huddled up first with the coaching staff, and I saw Coach Armstrong give him a nod.
That was one of Coach Armstrong’s biggest compliments - Lance must be doing a good job, despite only scoring 3.
Normally Lance would sit near where the training staff waited when he wasn’t on the field, but after he glanced around and saw me, he took a spot on the other side of the long bench, sitting down and sipping from a thermos.
Twisting the knife even more. I was happy for him, but given how frosty things with us had been since I had pre-emotively broken up whatever this was becoming, I couldn’t just go over and say anything to him.
He looked incredible, though. When the next series began and he got on the field again, I watched him dance around between the defenders and drive his team down the field like a man possessed.
It reminded me of how he was when we were alone - I loved that he could snap to attention and just focus everything in his being at the task at hand. I didn’t know anyone else who could focus like that.
At what cost, though? The cost of having a life? A meaningful relationship? What if he actually were to find a girlfriend? Would he just put her on hold for 5 months each year while he went off to play football? I laughed so hard I snorted at the idea, prompting looks from the other athletic staff.
And even if I could get by that, there was still the whole thing about his fame. He was only going to get more famous, more in the spotlight, as time went on, if he played well. I didn’t think I could be a part of that, too much to deal with.
I wanted to be with Lance more than anything, but I just couldn’t see a way to make it work. So I had tried to protect myself from getting hurt and ended it before it could get even more serious. I still hadn’t figured out if I had made the right decision, but every time our eyes met I wanted to run to him and kiss him, and I didn’t care if tens of thousands of people or millions saw it.
I just wanted him.
The next time Arizona took the field, though, they came back with a vengeance, scoring a quick touchdown that put the Cardinals up 14-3. The third quarter was nearly over.
Lance and the Patriots were running out of time.
CHAPTER 21 - LANCE