He’s incredible out there.
Watching Gage sail the ball down the field, take tackles, run like the wind, find gaps in the defense, I can’t help but marvel. I’m in the family box with the wives of the coaches and various administrators. They have all been very kind to me, even if they did look a little puzzled when I arrived with four hulking security guards with guns. Most of the wives aren’t paying attention to the game. They’re most interesting in catching up with each other and talking about their children, so I sit alone, glued to the glass.
How is that machine down on the field the same man who holds me so tenderly? How is that the same man whose mouth makes love to mine slowly one second, becoming demanding in the next? He seems so far away. Like maybe everything that has taken plac
