PART TWO

MY AGENT, LARRY Modiess, looks up from the papers in his hand and quirks his lips. "It's a done deal, Jordansign, sealed, and delivered. You're officially a New Mexico Pronghorn, the team with the lousiest record in the pro league." His hand slams against my back. He looks like he wants to hug me, so I step back and try to act manly. He's four inches shorter than I am, balding, and outweighs me by a hundred pounds. Think big teddy bear with a backbone of steel when it comes to negotiating sports contracts.

Larry's words culminate the longest journey of my lifecountless meetings and more sleepless nights than I care to count. The journey isn't over. There will be more rounds of meetings, situating myself with the team, and dealing with the media. I also need to inform my father that I'll be moving to New Mexico. We lost my mom two years ago and I've been living with him ever since. My plan is to convince him to move in with me in the near future. Doubtful he will but I'll try.

Coach Alan from the community college is someone else who needs to know. Without him, this wouldn't be happening. He gave me a chance and I'll never forget the risks he took. I have a long line of people I'm grateful for. Alan, my father, and Larry are at the top of the list and then there's Reg and Laura. They're my best friends and will have my back no matter what.

It's hard not to think about the money too. Plenty of pro kickers have signed better deals than the one I've just committed to, but at least I can put a roof over my head along with buying food and clothing.

I should also thank the league for the new extra-point yardage rule that moved the ball to the fifteen yard line for field goals and the twenty-five yard line on touchbacks. Kickers who can score with the new rules are in high demand and that's why the league is giving me this opportunity.

Who am I kidding? The league isn't giving me a chance, the Pronghorns are. They were part of the pro league expansion three years ago. Long story short-the Pronghorns suck. They also have an extremely young team, or so I tell myself. Hiring me as their kicker is nothing more than a publicity stunt to keep their losing record from being the headline. I don't care. This is my chance to play with the big boys and by damned I intend to do it.

Larry can't stop grinning, and I'm sure my expression matches his. "When do they expect me in Albuquerque?" I ask as calmly as possible.

He rests the paperwork back on his desk and flashes more teeth. "Three days, kiddo. They'll meet with you privately on Wednesday and Thursday they'll hold a press conference and inform the team. I'm flying with you and will stick around for a few days to make sure you have your cleats on the ground."

Larry is like a second father to me. He has high-profile clients way bigger and better than I am, but he's gone out of his way to put this deal in motion and lock it up tight. It's nothing short of miraculous.

To hell with it.

I squeal and throw myself into Larry's arms just like a girl, because dammit, that's what I am.

***

Dad took the news as expected. He's proud, scared, and knows how lonely he'll be without me. I nudged him about moving to New Mexico, but he's not ready to leave the house he shared with Mom. My mother was diagnosed with cancer my junior year in high school. Her illness gave me the excuse I needed to stay close to home and play soccer for the high school girls' team instead of a travel team. I wish I could say my heart was in that sport, but one look at the football field's lights and the roar of the crowd on Friday nights and it all crashed in around me that my heart was actually out on that field even if my female body watched from the sidelines.

The varsity football coach caught me kicking a football through the JV field goalposts one day after soccer practice and walked over to me. I was a sophomore at the time. "How far away can you kick the ball and get it through the goalposts?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Without a defensive line running at mefifty-six yards."

His eyebrows lifted. "Let me see what you can do at fifty."

I placed the ball on the tee, kicked, and watched it sail through the goalposts. Coach Gleason put me on the team to the dismay of my soccer coach and many of the male football players. Leaving soccer was a no-brainer. My passion had always been football. I played City Junior League with the boys until I was eleven years old. When that last season began, parents complained that I would be hurt playing with boys that age and the league's board gave me the option of switching to cheerleading. This would never happen. My mom and dad fought the ruling but the league refused to let me play. I took up soccer and dreamed endlessly about football.

Coach Gleason didn't stop at making me a great kicker. He made sure I knew all the ins and outs of the game and instilled the backbone I needed to apply for the kicking position at the local community college. The day before college tryouts, my mother was hospitalized. Hospice stepped in with a plan of action to keep her comfortable until the end, which wasn't far off. I was angry at the world and marched onto the field with a combination of rage and self-pity.

I'll never forget the laughs and jeers from the other players. I ignored them and I also ignored the strange looks I received from the coaching staff. All but Coach Alan. He nodded my way and then treated me like the other kickers trying out. I didn't miss at ten, twenty, or fifty yardseach kick was successful. Slowly, other coaches took notice, watching and whispering among themselves. I channeled my heartbreak over my mother's illness and left everything I had on that field. My anger at the world helped me land the kicking position and taught me a valuable lesson. Football is an aggressive game and you play hard or go home.

I play hard.

My mom died three weeks later. I sat quietly by her bed reading football manuals and sports magazines until her final hours. My dad and I held her hands and spoke to her while she passed. I was shattered by her loss and worried about Dad. He and Mom married young and they were still in love after twenty-six years of marriage. Their love was exactly what I wanted in a relationship. For my athletic dreams to come true, though, I put romance on hold. The college football season helped me get through the rough days after Mom's death. Dad made every home game and cheered loud enough from the stands that I always heard him. We both needed football to help cope with our loss.

As the only girl in college football, I received national recognition from a weekly news show that interviewed me. This happened after our first game when I scored an extra point and two field goals. The sensation of a female kicker wore off quickly in the community college world and I settled down to play the sport I loved.

"You hanging in there?" Larry asks from the seat beside me.

We're flying first class, which seems so weird. I'm accustomed to bending my long legs practically to my shoulders in coach.

"I'm terrified," I reply truthfully.

His laugh belts throughout the cabin and several people turn and look. "You and me both, kiddo. A lot's riding on this." Larry's wife left for parts unknown when his three daughters were young, and he raised them by himself. Not easy in his high-dealing sports world but he managed. One of his daughters is a captain in the Army, one is a stay-at-home mom, and the youngest is still in college with her eyes set on the space program. Larry understands what it's like for women in male-dominated fields. He told me once that his girls were just as worthy as men when it came to doing the same job. He lives by that and helping me proves it.

The billion-dollar world of professional football changes slowly. When they first gave into pressure and hired female journalists to cover teams inside the locker room, all you heard about was the harassment women put up with. Detroit Tigers' Jack Morris went so far as to say he refused to talk to women when he was naked. "Unless they are on top of me or I am on top of them," were his exact words. Yeah, that went over well with the female crowd. Not!

I understand what I'm up against. I'll make it because I never back down from a challenge. Doesn't mean I'm not scared to death, because I am. A week from now will be better, I tell myself. One week.

A driver meets us when we step out of the terminal. He's holding a sign with my name on it. The entire deal with signing me has been on the hush-hush. The first round of secret negotiations stated clearly that if any information leaked to the press on my end, the deal was null and void. Right now only my father knows. I'll call Coach Alan, Reg, and Laura as soon the press conference is over.

We arrive at the corporate building next to the stadium about thirty minutes later. It took longer to get out of the airport traffic than it actually did to navigate the roads to the stadium. I step out of the town car and breathe deeply. The stadium sits a hundred yards away. My eyes travel the tall outer walls all the way to the retractable roof.

This is now my home.

Even in the warm air, chills run across my arms and the butterflies in my stomach begin flapping their wings. The cityactually the entire statehad big hopes for the Pronghorns. I seriously doubt I'll have any impact on the status of the team's public perception. I'm here to do one jobkick a fifteen ounce ball through two posts set eighteen and a half feet apart.

No worries, I tell myself. You've spent the last few years doing just that. You got this.