It’s been fantastic getting back to the business of Nighthawks football. We have a reputation to maintain as a premier East Coast dynasty in the league and through blood, sweat and a couple of tears, we’ve made it to the big dance.
“It’s not an accident that we’re here, fellows!” Cap hypes us up in the fourth quarter. “We’re those dudes and we’re going to get this win and bring home another championship to New York.”
Go Hawks!
As I stare down the quarterback from my defensive end position, I can taste the metallic tinge of adrenaline mixed with blood on my tongue. The lights of the Superbowl stadium beat down on me, a stark reminder of the grand stage we stand upon. I crouch low, my gloved hands digging into the synthetic turf, the grip grounding me, rooting me to this pivotal moment in my life.
Just a few weeks ago, I’d been the outcast. Pushed aside. Suspended. Labeled as a disruption, a liability and a career killer. There had been whispers, doubts, and a disdain for me not just by the press but by many players in the league. Each disparaging word was a wound to my pride, a knife into my passion for the game. But with Katrina’s support and her love, I’ve endured, held my head high, and am committed to proving them wrong tonight.
And now, here I am, the prodigal son returned. Not just returned, but standing at the precipice of glory. The Superbowl. The very epitome of what we, as players, fight for. All the grueling workouts, all the punishing tackles, all the sacrifice - it has all led to this.
“Hold the line, Dak!” Coach’s voice rips through the thunderous noise. His eyes are hard, his jaw set. The last game of the season. The game to prove them all wrong.
The opposing quarterback snaps his gaze to me, his eyes ablaze with a fiery determination. He wants me to know that he wasn’t afraid of me or my reputation, but I’ve seen that look before, in a thousand different faces, in a thousand different games. He’s a warrior, yes. But so am I. And tonight, I will not be defeated.
The whistle pierces the night, a call to war. The ball spirals from the center’s hand, its trajectory a beacon. I spring forward, my cleats churning up the turf, every muscle in my body screaming in unison as I zero in on my target. He’s nervous, and I feel a wild, savage thrill.
He isn’t ready for what I am about to bring.
Like a coiled spring, I launch toward him, my shoulder connecting with his chest with a force that echoes throughout the stadium. I hear the collective gasp of the crowd as we both fall down; the ball flying out of his grip.
He fumbles the ball.
But I’m faster, my hand reaching out and grabbing onto the ball. The scent of leather and turf fills my nostrils as I clutch it to my chest.
I’ve gotten a turnover.
I’ve gotten a goddamn turnover in the Superbowl.
The deafening roar of the crowd erupts around me as my teammates run alongside me into the end zone. It’s not common for a large defensive player like myself to get a touchdown. We don’t run fast, but tonight I can feel the air under my feet.
When I cross the line into the end zone, my team, my brothers, pile on me, their joyous cheers mingling with the euphoria in my veins.
The redemption I’d craved, the redemption I’d fought for, was mine. Not because I’ve been handed it, but because I’ve earned it. I’d seized it with both hands and refused to let go, just like that final, winning play.
“I did it,” I whisper, staring up at the blinding stadium lights, wishing that my loved ones could hear me. Their glare couldn’t rival the dazzling brightness of my triumph. “I did it.”
And as my brothers hoist me on their shoulders, the crowd chanting my name; I know that this was just the beginning. The journey of redemption is never truly over. Now the next phase begins.
My agent promised me that if the team won the Superbowl and I played well that my new salary would be life changing. We’ll see what happens when it’s time for my contract renegotiations.
But I’m super hopeful.
Because I’m Dirty Dak Warner, the man who’d fallen from grace and fought his way back up. And if I have anything to say about it, I’m just getting started.
***
A ridiculous amount of confetti swirls all around us as we celebrate our win. The feeling of joy I have right now is unexplainable.
Before we go on the main stage to accept the Superbowl trophy and celebrate ourselves further, I’m looking for one person.
Where is she?
Finally, I spot her perfectly curved frame, pushing her way through the throngs of celebrators.
“Katrina!” I yell, my voice getting swallowed in the boisterous cacophony. My heartbeat accelerates as I see her, my vision tunneling until all I see is her radiant face. She’s here, right where I need her to be.
“Dak!” she shouts back, her voice barely audible. She breaks through the last row of people and rushes towards me. Her eyes shine with pride, making my heart pound.
