Isaiah laughs behind us. “I like her.”
Jonah takes his starting position, bouncing on his toes. He looks focused and ready. His team claps him on the back, trusting him, depending on him. I squeeze the railing, equal parts proud and nervous.
“Go Philly!” Angie yells right before the whistle blows. The ball arcs through the air, and the game erupts immediately into a flurry of body slams and scrums.
“Go rugby!” Lo screams. Wrong sport phrasing, but she gets points for enthusiasm.
Jonah takes the first tackle beautifully. Really beautifully. Like, I might need to fan myself a little despite the cool fall air.
Joaquín hollers, “Yes, JoJo!”
Angie echoes, “Hit him harder next time!”
After several rucks, Philly wins possession and moves the ball up field. Jonah gets it and passes cleanly to a teammate on a breakaway. I lose my mind and scream along with the roaring crowd as Philly gets dangerously close to scoring.
“Mom, he throws the ball really fast,” Lo says.
“Yes, he does.”
My heart clenches when it hits me just how in control he is—of his game, and of his life. He’s worked so hard to get to where he is. Rays of sunshine cast over him, and he wipes sweat from his brow as he strategizes. He navigates the pressures, the expectations, the teasing with grace. This was built brick by brick, sacrifice by sacrifice. He’s poured his heart and soul into this, and I can’t help but admire the dedication, the sheer force of will that brought him here.
Whether he walks away victorious, clutching the trophy, or shoulders the weight of defeat, I’ll be there. Win or lose, I’ll make sure he knows that. I’ll make sure he knows I see the effort, the grit, the man he is beyond the game.
Richmond closes in and things get messy. Dane and Rafael scrum down with the other forwards, but it collapses in a snarling pile of humans.
“Come on, Philly,” Isaiah grumbles, his hands flying out in rage. “What was that?”
The scrum resets, and the ball finds its way through several pairs of feet until it’s picked and thrown out to Jonah. He tears down the field, dodges a tackle, and the entire Johanssen fan section stands. Jonah looks like he might go for the try himself, but it’s going to be a tight fit.
But he doesn’t.
He passes.
Perfectly. Selflessly. The teammate he sends it to barrels through a gap in Richmond’s line, and over the try line!
The crowd blows up and the whistle screams. I’m scooping the girls up in a hug and shaking them. Joaquín joins our circle and cheers with us.
“That’s my boy,” Neal says, so quietly I almost don’t hear it.
“How many points was that?” Delta asks Robyn.
“Five. If they make this conversion kick, they’ll have the other two points they need.” She points to Dane who’s lining up for the kick. “Looklooklook!”
Joaquín hauls Lo into his chest and holds tight. Delta squeezes my arm, and my vision zeroes-in on the ball. My heart pounds.
Dane runs forward in measured steps andkick—the ball soars through the uprights.
Everyone. Loses. Their. Shit.
The stadium explodes, and the team bounds from the try zone to where Dane’s standing in shock—like he can’t believe he really did that. Jonah and Raf are the first to pummel him, followed by whoops and hollers. One of the bigger guys lifts him in the air and carries him to his position.
Robyn and Dell are hugging. Isaiah shakes his fathers shoulders, both of them laughing and near tears.
Now that the pressure is off, the team starts playing loose, and I’ve never seen so many rugged men with grins. They steal a turnover. They score again. Jonah makes a huge defensive stop that sends half the crowd to their feet.
When the final whistle blows, the stadium erupts in a deafening roar. Philadelphia wins—by a lot more than seven.
Teammates from the sidelines rush the field as everyone hugs and slaps each other around. The teams shake hands, and Jonah laughs, red-faced, sweaty, and undoubtedly in his element—all of it turning me on and causing my chest to expand.
