IN THE FIRST quarter, we don't look like the team who beat the Super Bowl champions three weeks ago. Aiden can't get a break and his offensive line is practically falling down on the job. Aiden is sacked on his second possession of the game. I'm angry and fed up with the line's BS. Aiden can't carry the team alone.

All I'm able to do is glare from the sideline and watch Pittsburgh put points on the board. Terrible towels twirl through the air and cheers go up when they score again, making it seventeen zero. Aiden jogs out slowly after the kickoff and I know something is injured, maybe his knee. The second quarter begins and we finally have the ball in enemy territory.

Aiden goes back to pass and a Pittsburgh player manages to grab the back of Aiden's jersey. Aiden spins and breaks the hold but he has no one open to pass the ball. He breaks right, spins left, and takes off for the end zone. He's taken down by two players on the one yard line. He stays down after the tackle and I'm about ready to run onto the field, when he slowly stands with the assistance of another player. We score on the next play but Aiden has taken a beating. I kick the extra point and it's now a ten-point ball game. Nothing changes before halftime and we head into the locker room with our emotions tightly in check.

Aiden kicks one of the garbage cans and swears. "What a fucking mess," he yells in frustration.

"If you'd get your head out of her pants," Tobias Landy taunts and nods my way, "maybe you could find an open player and complete a pass."

"What the fuck did you just say?" Aiden turns and gets in his face.

Landy doesn't back down. "The entire team knows you're fucking her."

"That," Aiden spits, "is none of your damn business."

"It is if it affects the team. It's the business of everyone here."

Aiden doesn't bother denying what's going on between us but his harshness makes me wince. "Where my dick goes has nothing to do with this team."

"Then prove it," Landy grinds out.

"That's enough," Coach Mitchel roars. "No one is doing their fucking job."

There is nothing motivational about Coach's halftime speech. He verbally kicks our asses.

"Cat's out of the bag," Lane whispers before we head back outside.

"It was bound to happen."

"The team is playing shitty and that's not your fault. We do our job. Got it."

"Yeh." I put my helmet back on. "Got it."

We won the opening coin toss and elected first possession. Now it's my turn to kick off. I look into the stands and miss our stadium. The number nine jerseys in the crowd always jump out at me and lift my spirits. Gold towels not so much.

The whistle blows and I charge the ball. A Pittsburgh player catches it behind the twenty and starts running. I'm knocking pads with opposing players and running toward the player with the ball. He takes a hit and the ball flies out of his hands. There are players everywhere as I make a grab and feel the ball within my grasp. The hit I take knocks the air from my chest. I reach the ground sooner than expected and the impact is jarring. The number of players who land on top of me doesn't help. Not that I could breathe anyway but the crushing pressure almost makes me lose my mind with the need to breathe.

Slowly, and it feels like hours, the players slide off. Hands grab at the ball, but I have it tucked in close and I don't show it to the ref until the last players move off me. Pronghorns' players start jumping in the air and Landy sticks his hand out and helps me rise. It's the first time he's done more than sneer my way. I'm still holding the ball and even in Pittsburgh's stadium, the fans go wild.

"That's one way to hype the team," Lane shouts after I run back to the sideline and he gives me my customary pat on the ass. I barely answer. My adrenaline is pumping and my focus is on Aiden and our offense. Five plays later, it's a three-point ballgame with plenty of time left on the clock. I've decided we aren't losing this game no matter how much my friend Laura cheers for Pittsburgh. I'm tired of losing.

We keep the game close and it's finally tied with four minutes left on the clock. When Aiden scores another touchdown, I know there's too much time left and we need to go for two.

"Coach," I say to Coach Morely. "We've been practicing it for weeks. Let's go for it."

He groans softly and then makes the sign for a fake extra point conversion for a two pointer. Fergus has been easy to work with on this play and the idea is for me to run at the ball when he sets it, dodge the kick at the last second, and Fergus throws the ball to anyone in position over the goal line. The play goes off without a hitch and I charge the end zone. I turn and see the ball coming toward me and jump. My fingers tip the ball and it tumbles into Carter's hands.

Two points and we're ahead by one in the ballgame.

Lane attempts an onside kick, but it doesn't work and Pittsburgh gains control in our territory.

"Don't make me kick your asses," I yell onto the field. "Hold 'em."

Several offensive players give me smiles and add their own smartass encouragement. I pace the sideline as the clock ticks down and Pittsburgh moves the ball within field goal range. We hit the two-minute break and I'm too nervous to stand still, so I continue pacing. The game resumes and Pittsburgh has one last play before their kicker comes in. I'm expecting the quarterback to drop on the ball but he fakes a handoff and then puts his arm back to pass.

Our very own Mason Jackson comes out of nowhere. We hear the jarring impact on the sideline. The quarterback goes down and the ball flies out of his hand. There's a scramble when Mason rolls, comes up with the ball, and runs toward Pittsburgh's goalposts. I'm not sure if my feet are even touching the ground as I jump up and down screaming my head off and Mason takes the ball into the end zone. Aiden is cheering beside me. When he notices me, he picks me up and twirls me around. I would give anything to kiss him.

But we've got a job to do and I'm on the field for another extra point which I make and then a kickoff. No funny business this time, I need to land the ball deep in the zone without kicking it into the end zone. And I need the gods to line up so our team makes a quick tackle. Pittsburgh needs a touchdown to win and everyone knows Hail Mary passes have won plenty of games.

I'm screaming my head off, challenging our team to do their jobs, and I'm totally unconcerned with what anyone thinks. I've been silent on this team way too long. I place the kick perfectly and we take Pittsburgh down on the fifteen.

We hold them to twenty yards and win the game.