Chapter 1
November 1972
My mother died in the second quarter of my last high school football game.
We lost the game, the New Jersey state championship. My father insisted I play even though Dr. Franklin told us she only had a few hours. “I’ll be with her,” Dad said. “She’s so medicated right now. It’s more important that you play in the game. A lot of college coaches will be there and it’s your chance to show them you can play on a big stage. Mom would have wanted it that way.”
I hated how he talked like she was already dead.
I played like shit. Everything was awkward and slow. Coach Hunt didn’t say anything about how bad I was. He knew about Mom.
In the fourth quarter, we were losing by three touchdowns when I saw Dad standing under the goalpost. He was looking at me. With my eyes, I asked him.
He shook his head and looked away.