Nate The Unstoppable

I sometimes get frustrated with the growing number of stories in my drafts folder, and I wish I had the discipline just to finish some. But then, the idea for an entirely new one pops into my head, and my ADHD is off to the races. This is one of those stories.

For those of you looking for free online romances with a side of gritty realism, this might not be the choice for you. Similarly, if you're looking for graphic sex (or really any sex beyond what you might find in a PG-rated movie), you might be disappointed. Like most of my best stories, however, this one just kind of wrote itself. So, despite the dearth of 'Lit' and/or 'Erotica', I suspect you'll enjoy it if you give it a try.

Nate the Unstoppable

PROLOGUE

I'm sure you've heard of the National Football League (NFL). It's the richest sports league in the world and a fixture on screens big and small across America each fall. With revenues of over $20 billion and more than 120 million viewers for the Super Bowl each year, it's a testament to the enduring power of football to inspire our dreams, make people wealthy, and give us a sense of belonging to something greater than ourselves.

You may not have heard of the World Football Alliance (WFA). In fact, it's completely understandable if you haven't. If the NFL is the 800-pound gorilla of sports leagues, the WFA was the cuddly hamster--cute and furry, but with a very limited shelf life.

The WFA compensated for its lack of on-field talent by scripting over-the-top storylines that had more in common with professional wrestling than football. Have you ever seen someone block a field goal with a folding chair that they snuck onto the field? If you have, you've watched the WFA.

The WFA had big dreams but shallow pockets. After just three seasons, it folded, with few mourning its passing. But few isn't the same as none. For one young fan, Nathan Peterson, the WFA was everything. He lived and died by his beloved Iowa Skyhammers and couldn't wait for their new season to begin. No one had the heart to tell him that it never would.

Was Nathan destined for heartbreak at the tender age of seven? Or--against all odds--would his gridiron heroes come through for him and save the day?

If you enjoy stories filled with heart-wrenching tragedy, improbable comebacks, and dashing heroes winning their best girls' hearts (and having theirs stolen in return), you might want to stick around to find out.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Our story begins at Peterson's Used Cars & Trucks in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, on a gray Saturday morning--the coldest day of the year.

CHAPTER 1

Michael Peterson

For as long as I can remember, Peterson's Used Cars & Trucks has been an institution in downtown Cedar Rapids. My father founded it the year I was born and passed it on to me ten years ago when he retired. For 38 years, we've delivered automobiles as steady and dependable as the Iowans who drive them. We have a hard-earned reputation for honesty and fair dealing--we charge a reasonable price and stand behind every car and truck we sell. For years, that has been enough to make a modest living with enough left over to give something back to our community.

But not anymore.

I should probably introduce myself before we go any further. I'm Michael Peterson, father of two and husband of none. My ex-wife, Sandra, left us just over three years ago when our bonus baby, Nathan, was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (ALL).

Fuck cancer.

We all react to tragedy in our own ways. I doubled down on my love and devotion to the boys, while Sandra cut and ran. One day, I came home from the hospital to find a note on the kitchen counter that read:

Dear Michael.

Life's too short to be sad all the time. YOLO. Steve and I are moving to Florida to start our next adventure. Don't worry; I'll always have fond memories of you and the boys.

All the best,

Sandra

Believe it or not, my biggest worry after finding the note wasn't whether Sandra had left with fond memories of her former family. After googling YOLO (apparently, it stands for You Only Live Once--now you know), I realized that 'Steve' was Steven Patterson, my top salesman and former best friend. I guess YOLO and kids with cancer are mutually incompatible.

Nathan has the heart of a warrior, but over the past three years, he's been losing ground in his battle with cancer, and I'm terrified that he's starting to lose hope. He still has a smile for everyone, be they family, friends, nurses, or doctors (but never the despicable Charleston Blackcoats), but he's fading, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I feel so helpless most of the time, watching him suffer through endless treatments and procedures.

After his mother left, the only thing that consistently brought Nathan joy was the Iowa Skyhammers of the WFA. Their crowds were sparse, and the football was terrible, but no one cheered harder for that awful team or followed their mediocre weekly melodramas with more passion than my little man.

Every Sunday afternoon, we'd listen to their game on the radio (the Skyhammers never secured even a local TV deal). On Monday mornings, we'd sit in his hospital room and watch the weekly recaps on YouTube while he was poked and prodded or given one of his seemingly endless rounds of chemotherapy. I didn't have the heart to tell him when the league folded; I just couldn't take away the last piece of joy from his miserable life. But I knew he would have to find out eventually, and it would be one more heartbreak in a lifetime of them.

My oldest son, Lance, has been a rock. He's spent more time in the hospital with his brother than most people do in their lifetimes, and he helps around the dealership as much as he can. Before Sandra left, he was a happy-go-lucky kid with dozens of friends. Now, he's just a sad and empty shell of his former self. Your senior year of high school is supposed to be the best time of your life, but for Lance, it's been nothing but worry and sorrow.

Just one more item on my ever-growing list of failures as a parent.

The dill pickle on the shit sandwich that is my life was the Used Car Megaplex that opened outside of Cedar Rapids just over two years ago. They're a national chain, and their strategy is ruthless and unforgiving. Whenever they enter a new market, they mark their cars down to below-break-even prices for a couple of years until they force all their competitors out of business. Then they jack up their prices and make all that money back.

Predatory pricing like that is both highly illegal and incredibly difficult to prove. Moreover, they have the financial resources to endure a lengthy court case if necessary. After Nathan's three-year battle with cancer, I certainly did not. No locally owned dealership had lasted more than three years against them, and it didn't seem like we would be the exception to that rule.

******

I shook my head and tried to refocus as I pulled into the dealership and parked. Lance was riding shotgun, but he had his headphones on and was lost in a podcast. We usually didn't open until 10 AM on Saturday mornings, but I'd spent the night in the hospital with Nathan and had a particularly unpleasant meeting to get through before I could start the day.

Mr. James and his daughter, Becky, were arriving at 9:30 to discuss her role in the unfortunate events of the previous weekend--if you could call vandalizing half a dozen cars on my lot 'unfortunate'. I would have used words like senseless and infuriating, but then I wasn't a big-time lawyer like Becky's father.

In better times, vandalism like that would have been difficult for us financially, but it wouldn't have been the end of the world. With our sales tanking because of the Used Car Megaplex coming to town, it was devastating. Fortunately, the jewelry store across the street captured the entire incident on camera. Unfortunately, the perpetrators were members of the undefeated Cedar Rapids Central High football team and some of the cheerleaders, including Becky.

The police weren't planning to press charges because they didn't want to derail the players' promising football careers before they even started. Then, a few of the team's biggest boosters offered to pay for the damages to make the whole thing disappear. They strongly suggested that a business owner who pursued unnecessary charges when 'kids were just being kids' might be viewed very poorly by local car buyers. It didn't seem like accountability was high on anyone's list of priorities.

Despite the cold weather and early hour, I heard a friendly, "Morning, Mr. Bossman," as I entered the office. Margaret "Margie" O'Keefe was the silver lining for all the storm clouds in my life. Besides her starring role as my not-so-faithful wife, Sandra had also been our office manager. I hired Margie to replace Sandra soon after she fled to Florida.

Margie was as kind as she was competent. She took charge of the mess that Sandra left behind without missing a beat and soon became the heart and soul of the dealership. She was the kind of person whose presence alone made your life 10% better and your day 10% happier. She was also as cute as a button and had a world-class smile.

I'll admit, I had the teensiest of crushes on Margie, but I think I hid it well. She'd been my rock almost from the day she started working here, and she helped keep my hopes from flagging when I might otherwise have slipped into despair. Unfortunately, I knew we could never be together. She was nearly a decade younger than I was, and I didn't have much to offer her other than my failing dealership and my impending soul-crushing loss. However, when things got bad, it was certainly nice to daydream about her smile.

"How's Nathan doing this morning?"

Margie knew I'd gone to work straight from the hospital after picking Lance up from home.

"Oh, you know. Another day, another heart-wrenchingly painful treatment. But we're hearing good things about this latest round."

Honestly, I wasn't hopeful that this round of treatments would be any different than the last. But my job as a father was to stay positive as I watched Nathan's little body get ravaged by the poisons that would hopefully save his life. Margie looked up at me, her eyes filled with sympathy and kindness, as she reached over and squeezed my hand.

"I'm praying for you both."

I felt my back stiffen, and I didn't know what to say.

"I... thank you, Margie."

She squeezed my hand once more before letting go.

******

As I walked into my office, which was just a glorified closet, I noticed Mr. James and his daughter Becky were already seated in the chairs opposite my desk. Despite the weather and the early hour, Mr. James wore a light-gray, tailored three-piece suit with a starched white shirt. His only concession to practicality was the Sorel boots on his feet.

Becky, in contrast, wore a long black Canada Goose parka and sleek leather Chelsea boots that likely cost more than everything in my office--myself included. Mr. James seemed annoyed, while Becky looked as if she would rather be anywhere else in the world. After a moment, I kicked off the festivities.

"How can I help you both on this fine January morning?"

Mr. James leaned forward in his chair and made eye contact with me.

"Thank you for meeting with us this morning, Mr. Peterson. Becky would like to apologize for her role in what happened here last weekend and offer to make amends."

That sounded ominous, and I was merely the intended recipient of the apology. Becky crossed her arms and blushed as she gazed down at the floor before beginning to speak.

"I'm sorry that we damaged your vehicles and for the distress that must have caused you and your family. My actions don't reflect my values or upbringing."

Becky paused for a moment and looked at her father, who nodded sternly before she resumed.

"Although money might be able to compensate for the damage caused to your vehicles, it can't compensate for your time and inconvenience. To show that I understand the seriousness of what I did and to take accountability for my actions," she paused again and looked over at her father before continuing, "I'm offering to work for you, for free, two nights a week after school and on the weekends, until you feel that I have paid off my debt."

Maybe she was just a good actress, but Becky looked genuinely contrite. I'd never been very good at dealing with crying women, even when I was married to one, and I didn't know what to say, so I handed Becky a box of tissues before I replied.

"First, I want to say how impressed I am to see you taking accountability for your actions. I hope you can learn from this and avoid repeating the same mistakes in the future. And your offer is commendable, but it seems like a significant time commitment for..."

Before I could finish, Mr. James interrupted.

"Becky's original punishment was no phone or socials for the rest of the term. And no spring formal or prom. I'm sure she would appreciate it if you accepted her proposal, if you have work for her to do, that is."

I looked at Becky, who was like a rabbit frozen in a field after seeing the shadow of a hawk passing overhead.

"I'm sure we can find plenty to keep her busy," I said, and I noticed Becky visibly relax.

"Do you know my son Lance? He's in the same grade as you at Cedar Rapids Central High. He can show you the ropes and help you get settled in."

Lance Peterson

You know that old saying, 'Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it?' Becky James was what I had wished for since about the sixth grade, and it turned out that the saying was painfully prescient.

It wasn't that she was pretty... okay, that's a lie... it wasn't JUST that she was pretty; she was also smart, sassy, and took no prisoners. I certainly thought she was the bee's knees. And I didn't even know if bees had knees to begin with. But my grandpa used to say that about my grandma, and I sure miss them both, so yeah... she was the bee's knees.

Or so I believed while admiring her from afar.

After two weeks of working closely with her at the dealership, Little Miss Bee's Knees was a pain in my ass. Dad asked me to keep an eye on her and show her the ropes, but all she seemed to do was complain.

"I had to give up my horseback riding lessons to be here."

"I should be getting ready for Sylvie's party tonight instead of cleaning road salt off these old, crappy cars."

"Isn't that the same t-shirt you wore in gym class in grade 9?"

Okay, that last complaint was fair enough. My wardrobe could probably use a refresh. However, I spent most nights camped out in my brother's hospital room, so fashion wasn't a priority for me. Even though I was impressed that she remembered anything about me from grade 9, it still kind of stung.

"You used to be such a fun guy? What happened to you? The least you could do is crack a smile sometimes."

I probably should have walked away from Becky after she made that last comment. She wasn't any more spoiled than many other kids in my school. But I suppose I'd just reached my breaking point that day, so I let Becky have it.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Becky, but sometimes life just sucks. I wish I had a nice smile for you when you got here this morning, but I had just come from my little brother's room in the hospital, where we had to tell him that he needs another round of chemotherapy because the last one didn't work. He was crying and begging my dad not to let them do it, and my dad was trying so hard not to break down as he held him and told him it was going to be alright."

"I'm his older brother, Becky. My most important job in life is to protect my little brother and keep him safe, and I'm a complete failure at it. All I can do is watch him slowly d..."

I had to pause to catch my breath; I was so worked up I thought I might explode.

"But you know what, Becky? It's not going to be alright. It's never going to be alright again. And that friggin' Used Car Megaplex is going to put us out of business soon, and then Nathan's going to lose his insurance, and our last hope will be crushed. So, yeah, those 'old, crappy cars' are the only thing keeping my brother alive right now.

"And you know what the cherry on top is, Becky? The only thing that Nathan is looking forward to is the next stupid season of the stupid Iowa Skyhammers and the rest of the stupid WFA. But they folded last year, so there isn't going to be a next season. Soon, he's going to figure that out, and I'm not sure he'll survive another heartbreak.

"I'm sorry about your horseback riding, and I'm sorry about your parties, and I'm sorry I have things to worry about other than figuring out what I'm going to wear to work every day. I'm sorry. I'm just sorry, okay?"

I must have gotten loud toward the end of my rant because Becky's eyes were as big as Coke bottles, and her mouth hung open in astonishment. I felt my dad's hand on my shoulder as he pulled me in for a hug. I could hear him speaking to Becky while he comforted me.

"Let me apologize to you on Lance's behalf, Becky. He should never have spoken to you like that. He's just... well, he's got a lot on his plate right now. Why don't you head home now? I'll call your father and make sure that you don't get in trouble for leaving early.

"Thank you for all your help. We appreciate it."

CHAPTER 2

Michael Peterson

Monday morning was rough. I woke up with the emotional hangover from Sunday, knowing it would last well into the following week. I wasn't blind; I could see the toll Nathan's slow decline and my increasing absence to care for him while trying to keep the dealership afloat were taking on Lance. I just didn't know what I could do about it.

A year ago, in desperation, I tried to find Sandra in Florida to see if Lance could live with her and have a chance at something closer to a normal teenage life. I found her, but she'd become some kind of lifestyle influencer on social media, and unfortunately, Lance just didn't fit into her chosen aesthetic.

"I'm too young to have a son Lance's age. This business can be brutal, Michael. I'm sure Lance will understand. Maybe he can come visit once he's in college."

In retrospect, it'd been a piss-poor idea anyway, so I never told Lance about my interactions with his mother. She didn't ask about Nathan.

By the time Lance woke up, I was back from the hospital and had breakfast ready for him, but he said he wasn't hungry. If he'd gotten any sleep the night before, you wouldn't have known it by looking at him.

"Dad, I don't want to go to school this morning."

He sounded exhausted and sad, and I wished there was something I could do for him. But no problem ever got solved by running away from it.

"Are you worried about seeing Becky at school? I know she's not your favorite person right now, but she's a good kid. I don't think she will hold what you said against you."

"I know, Dad. It's just that sometimes I wish things could be different, you know?"

"As Gandalf the White once said, 'So do I, and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.' And your brother is starting his next round of chemotherapy today. So, what I'm going to do with the time that is given to me is go and keep him company. You don't have to come with me if you're not up for it this morning. I'm sure he'll understand."

Lance looked at me like I'd lost my mind.

"It was Gandalf the Grey who said that, not Gandalf the White. And it's not like I'm going to abandon you and Nathan just because I'm all up in my feels. I'm not like Mom."

"And just for the record, I'm not worried about Becky. I'm worried about her boyfriend, Carl. He's as big as a round hay bale, weighs twice as much, and is about half as smart. One wrong word to him, and I'm a dead man."

"Okay, well, eat your breakfast and then we'll get going."

"Did you eat any breakfast, Dad?"

"I wasn't hungry. You know me; I'm not a big morning eater."

Or, more accurately, I hadn't been a big morning eater since Nathan got his diagnosis. Too often, after a morning of holding him while he shook and cried at the latest indignity inflicted on his body, I'd find myself in a bathroom stall vomiting the contents of my stomach. That was more tolerable if those contents consisted only of a little black coffee.

Lance looked at me skeptically before replying.

"I'll eat my breakfast right after you finish yours, Dad."

"Touche, Lance. Let's go see your brother."

******

"Can I help you find something?"

I really shouldn't have been startled by the question. I'd been standing in the paint aisle at Herring's Hardware for the better part of the last ten minutes, staring aimlessly at the cans of primer. I couldn't stop replaying the scene in Nathan's hospital room that morning in my mind. He'd begged me not to let the doctors hurt him before drifting into sullen resignation. He wouldn't even look at me. Lance held him and rocked him as he cried, while I sat helplessly in the corner.

I looked over my shoulder and was met with a kind smile from a young man who appeared to be only slightly older than Lance. There was something very familiar about his square jaw and flattop buzzcut.

"Apologies if you hear this a lot, but you look just like Chip Washington."

Chip Washington was a local legend and one of the state's best high school football players. Only five years ago, he led Cedar Rapids Central High to an undefeated season and the state championship before leaving for Northern Iowa State. I lost track of him once he got to college, but I was positive he would have been drafted by now and that he was likely starting a promising professional career.

"That's because I am Chip Washington, sir," he replied with a friendly smile.

"What are you doing back in Cedar Rapids?" I asked, a little taken aback. "I figured you'd be starting for a team in the NFL by now."

I instantly regretted my thoughtless reply as the smile slipped from Chip's face.

"Well, sometimes things don't work out the way we planned. At college, I found myself buried on the depth chart behind the son of one of the school's most generous boosters, and I didn't start until my senior season. My individual stats were good enough, but our team struggled, and our games weren't exactly showcased on the sports highlight shows, if you know what I mean.

"I still thought I had a good shot at being drafted, but I sprained my ankle the week before the draft combine, and that was it. We never had the money for any fancy quarterback clinics when I was a kid, so I didn't have anyone in my camp to put in a good word for me with the powers that be. I did get a call from a team up in Canada, but... well, Canada, you know? I can't be looking over my shoulder for polar bears all the time.

"So, I came back home. My grandpa's getting too old to be looking after the farm by himself, anyway, so it's probably for the best."

I felt sorry for Chip, but I was impressed by his ability to remain positive despite his misfortune.

"I'm sorry that things didn't work out for you. But you're a good grandson; your grandparents must be proud of you."

Chip looked thoughtful for a moment before breaking into a wide grin.

"Things are working out for me just fine. I've got a job I enjoy, in a city I love, and I can repay my grandparents for all the time and love they gave me over the years. If I could just find myself a girl, I'd be all set."

I couldn't help but return his smile.

"I'm sure a girl will come along when you least expect it."

******

I didn't arrive at the dealership until almost noon. Monday and Tuesday were Margie's days off, and somehow the office didn't feel the same without her. While taking off my parka, I noticed a couple of items wrapped in silver foil on my desk, along with a large cup of coffee. Curious, I picked up what I now realized were a couple of delicious-looking breakfast burritos as I read the short note beside them.

Dear Mr. Bossman,

I know Mondays can be tough for you, and you don't always remember to eat, so I dropped off some breakfast for you. I hope everything went well at the hospital this morning. I'm here if you need to talk.

Margie

I made a mental note to dust my office more frequently. It wouldn't do for the staff to see me with tears in my eyes while I was eating breakfast.

Lance Peterson

It was official. I was going to be late for my first class of the day, Media Studies. Usually, it was my favorite, but now it filled me with dread. I would have to face Becky, and I wasn't looking forward to it at all. I never should have let my frustrations boil over with her. It wasn't her fault my life sucked. She was probably just trying to make conversation. And I went and blew it.

I was so upset about the situation last night that I didn't finish my homework assignment, due first thing this morning. My week was already a disaster, and it was only 9:03 AM on Monday!

The one saving grace was that Mr. Halstead, the Media Studies teacher, was cool. He cared about his students and wanted to make his class as engaging as possible, so most of the second term was dedicated to a class-wide capstone project. Everyone contributed to building a multi-media, multi-platform extravaganza chosen by the class. I slipped into the room just as Mr. Halstead began to speak.

"Nice of you to join us, Mr. Peterson."

The entire class turned to look at me as I slunk into my seat. I stole a glance at Becky to try to gauge how angry she was with me, but her expression was inscrutable.

"I look forward to hearing your ideas for our class capstone project today. Each of you will have 60 seconds to pitch your idea, and then the class will vote. The top three vote-getters will then have a chance to make a second pitch and answer any questions before we make our final decision."

I started tuning out almost as soon as the presentations began. I didn't think Conor Blake would get many votes for his pitch to produce a podcast on the "Single Ladies of Cedar Rapids Central High." Similarly, Emma Jo Halverson's pitch to make a documentary on "The Endangered Cedar Rapids Water Parsnip" was met with a tepid response, despite her fine oratorical skills. I wondered briefly how endangered a parsnip could be, but decided to save my questions for the second round of presentations, if her idea made it that far.

I was desperately searching for an idea to present when Becky stood up and walked to the front of the class. Her mere presence commanded attention, and I heard the class quiet down as she paused and made eye contact with me, that same inscrutable expression on her face.

"Mr. Halstead, Lance, and I will be presenting our idea together."

Only Becky could get away with phrasing that as a statement of fact, not a question. I wondered how Mr. Halstead would... WAIT! WE'RE WHAT?

"It's a bit unorthodox, but I'll allow it. Please come up to the front, Mr. Peterson."

I stood up as slowly as I could, a million different thoughts colliding in my brain. I don't remember signing up for this! What was Becky thinking? Was this some kind of plot to take sadistic vengeance on me? She looks pretty in that outfit; it makes her eyes pop. I wonder if she has slides. Since there are two of us, do we get two minutes to present? Is my fly down? Oh my god, I bet my fly's down! Would anyone notice if I just casually check it as I...

"We don't have all day, Mr. Peterson."

Becky gave me a quick smile as I reached the front. I was pretty sure it was more of a "don't worry, I've got this," kind of smile, rather than "I am become death, destroyer of teenage worlds," but I was too rattled to be certain. The class quieted down as Becky began to speak.

"Did you know that hope is one of the most critical factors in determining cancer patients' long-term health and survival? It's true. Hope can be the difference between your mother being there to help you pick out your dress for the spring formal and going dress shopping alone. It can be the difference between your father dancing with the woman he loves on his anniversary or spending it locked away in his office. It can also be the difference between tossing a football with your baby brother in the park or watching him slowly waste away in a hospital bed.

"It's too late to bring hope to my mom, who passed away five years ago from breast cancer. But it's not too late to bring some hope to Lance's brother Nathan, who is fighting for his life in the hospital as we speak. But how do we bring hope to a seven-year-old boy we've never met, and what does this have to do with media studies?"

Those were excellent questions. I couldn't wait to hear the answers! Oh shit, Becky looked like she'd just asked me a question and I'd been daydreaming...

"I'm sorry, I missed that, Becky. Could you repeat the question?"

Becky rolled her eyes before repeating herself.

"And what's the one thing that brings your brother Nathan hope..."

I knew the answer to that one!

"It's the Skyhammers, Becky. Nathan loves, or I guess loved, the Skyhammers and the WFA. But mainly the Skyhammers. They folded at the end of last season. He doesn't know they're gone yet, but he'll be crushed when he finds out."

That seemed to be the correct answer, since Becky gave me a big smile, which set butterflies aflutter in all my butterfly places. Before she could continue, Edgar Hopkins jumped in.

"I hate the Skyhammers! Last year, they ordered 5,000 jerseys from my dad, and they sucked so bad that they folded before they could pick them up or pay for them. What are we supposed to do with 5,000 jerseys for a team that doesn't exist anymore?"

Becky looked at him with sympathy before continuing with her original pitch.

"Are we the kind of class that's going to let hope die for little Nathan?"

There were a few half-hearted "No's" from the class, but they didn't seem that enthusiastic. Becky wasn't impressed.

"Let's try that again. Are we the kind of class that's going to let hope die for little Nathan?"

This time, there was a much louder round of "No's," and some classmates began to get excited.

"For our capstone project, are we going to create, produce, and broadcast the fourth season of the WFA?"

Wow, that was an ambitious project. The class seemed to recognize this and hesitated at the amount of work that might be required. But Becky wasn't to be denied.

"Yes! Yes, we are. If Nathan Peterson needs the Skyhammers to give him enough hope to kick cancer's ass, then that's what we're going to give him."

The class was even more enthusiastic, and some students began to clap.

"This is a big ask, and it'll be a lot of work, but we can do this!"

That got a rousing, "Yeah!" from the class, and I also began clapping. Becky was really warming up now. She was like an old-time preacher testifying to her congregation.

"Are you with us?"

"YEAH!"

"Are we going to bring some hope to Nathan?"

"YEAH!"

"Fuck Cancer!"

The classroom fell silent, and everyone turned to Mr. Halstead.

"Language, Ms. James, language!"

Becky looked embarrassed, and the class began to glance around uncomfortably before Mr. Halstead continued.

"But Fuck Cancer, indeed."

The class went wild, and Becky gave me a big, beautiful grin. It took a few minutes to calm everyone down, and then it was Jamal Rivers' turn to present. His eyes darted around the classroom; I felt sorry for anyone who had to follow Becky, and Jamal wasn't the most confident guy at the best of times.

"My idea is to do an undercover exposé on corn..."

******

Becky's idea won the class vote by a landslide. To their credit, the class did ask Becky some tough questions, but she always had a good answer.

"Do you really think we can make an entire fake season of the WFA?"

"Yes, I do. We'll get our feet wet with the preseason and then run until the champions are crowned after the finals. But it won't be so bad. We only need to broadcast one full game per week--the one featuring the Skyhammers--and we can cover the rest in a weekly YouTube summary."

"Would we use the players and plotlines from the first three seasons?"

"My dad says that we won't get permission to use any of the existing players' likenesses or images, so we would have to develop our own storylines and stuff. But that also means we can create an all-new cast of heroes and villains specifically tailored to the sensibilities of a seven-year-old."

"Are we going to have to find sponsors and stuff?"

"Our costs should be low since, you know, there won't be any actual games or anything, or players to pay. But we'll need to invent sponsors whose commercials we can play during the radio broadcast to make it seem more real for Nathan. And Lance, maybe we can play some commercials for your dad's dealership?"

I thought that was a great idea, and I said I would speak with him right away. Mr. Halstead asked the trickiest but most important question.

"Do you think we can secure the rights to use the team names, logos, and the league's branding?"

"My dad's law firm did a bunch of work for the Skyhammers before they folded, and the owner owes him, so they shouldn't be a problem. He thinks whoever owns the rights to the league will also be fine with the idea as long as we aren't making any profit or using their brand for commercial purposes. He's going to look into it right away and let me know what he finds later this week."

Our votes were cast at the end of the class, and the final tally was as follows: The Endangered Parsnip - 1 vote (Emma Jo swore it wasn't hers); An Undercover Exposé on Corn - 0 votes; WFA Season Four - 30 votes and Mr. Halstead's stamp of approval.

******

Even though our class started on the project right away, I didn't have a chance to speak with Becky in private until we were working at the dealership together on Tuesday night. The evening began awkwardly--I showed her how to file some of the boxes of backlogged paperwork, and we barely made eye contact before we started working. Eventually, however, I broke the silence.

"I'm sorry about your mother."

I noticed Becky tense up for a moment before she replied.

"It's okay. It was a long time ago."

We continued to work in silence for a while before I continued.

"I know it's not the same, but my mom left us over three years ago now, and I still miss her. It's okay to still miss your mom."

"Why'd your mom leave?"

"I don't really know. I don't think she could handle it when Nathan was diagnosed with cancer, so she just split. She went off with her boyfriend to find her "bliss" in Florida."

"That's a shitty thing to do."

"Nathan took it hard. He was a real momma's boy, and then suddenly, he's sick and she's gone, and dad's sad all the time."

I wanted to shift the subject to something less depressing.

"What was your mom like?"

"She was great. You know how some parents divide the family's tasks between them? Mine were like that. My dad did the boring stuff--worked long hours, earned more money, and worried about the future. Mom was the fun one. She took me shopping and to the spa, and we hung out all the time. She was the yin to my father's yang--and then she was gone."

We continued working on the files, but the silence felt less awkward. Just before we finished for the night, I finally got up the nerve to say what was really on my mind.

"Thank you for what you did for my brother. If we can pull this off, it'll mean the world to him. And it already means the world to me."

I thought I saw a hint of a smile on Becky's face as we returned to work.

CHAPTER 3

Michael Peterson

When you're a parent, your kids never cease to surprise you. Good surprises? Check. Bad surprises? Check. Weird surprises? Check. Surprises that aren't surprises, but you pretend they are? Check. Still, for all that I was an eighteen-year parenting veteran, Lance still managed to surprise me now and then.

"Okay, go over it for me one more time... your class is planning to do what now?"

Lance had spent almost the entire drive to the hospital that morning telling me about his media studies class project. If I'd heard him correctly, they were going to create a fictional fourth season for the WFA so Nathan would have something to look forward to during his time in the hospital.

It was thoughtful. It was heartwarming. It was CRAZY and couldn't possibly work. Could it?

"You're sure Mr. Halstead is okay with this? He thinks you can pull it off? It'd be wonderful for your brother to have something like this to look forward to each week. But if it's going to fizzle out, I'd rather just tell him the truth and save you all that hassle."

I was very worried about Nathan. His recent tests weren't showing any progress at all with his latest round of treatments, and if they failed, the last resort would be a bone marrow transplant--if we could afford it. Equally concerning, day by day, I could see the light fading from his eyes. He was growing increasingly listless, and his doctor said he was probably depressed. If this project could bring a little joy and excitement into his life, I was all for it.

"I know it sounds crazy, Dad, but it wasn't even my idea. Becky heard about Nathan's struggles and pulled this together in less than 24 hours. You should have seen her; she had the whole class believing that we could do this. If I'm perfectly honest, I think Mr. Halstead has his doubts, but he saw how excited everyone got and told us to go for it."

I couldn't help but smile when I saw the expression on Lance's face as he talked about Becky. If I wasn't mistaken, my eldest son was smitten, which I wholeheartedly approved of--it was about time for him to be smote. Despite our rocky start, I was beginning to grow quite fond of her.

"What would your class need from me?"

"Just your approval, Dad. And we'd like to make the dealership the named sponsor for the Skyhammers this year; that way, Nathan will know at least one of the sponsors, making the whole thing that much more believable for him."

"How much will this sponsorship cost?"

"It's free, Dad. The games and summaries will be posted to social media, but we aren't expecting many viewers. Our core audience is one person--Nathan."

"I'd feel better if you'd let me pay something. Just to help the class out, maybe pay for some donuts on the nights you work late. Why don't I give you $500?"

I figured I could always take it from my advertising budget. That money could barely touch the flood of ad money that the Used Car Megaplex was spraying around town.

"That's very generous, Dad. I'm sure the class will be thrilled to have your support."

******

"Is everything alright, Mr. Bossman?... Michael, what's wrong?"

Margie stood in the doorway of my office, a cup of coffee in hand and concern written on her face. After my conversation with Lance that morning, I'd felt okay for the first time in a long while. I wasn't good and certainly not great, but 'maybe I can keep my breakfast down this morning' was good enough, especially considering the alternatives. My mood lasted until about five minutes after I reached the hospital.

"It's not working," I said, my voice sounding thin and flat.

Margie entered and closed the door. Normally, she was a stickler for office protocol and always kept the door open when it was just the two of us in a room, but today seemed to be an exception. Instead of sitting across the desk, she squatted beside me and took my hand in hers.

"What's not working, Michael?"

It took me a minute before I trusted myself to speak.

"The latest treatment. It's not working. Nathan's going to need a bone marrow transplant."

It was the last arrow in the doctor's quiver when all else failed. It would be painful and expensive, and it wasn't a sure thing. Not by a long shot.

"And that's if we can find a matching donor."

Lance and I would get tested, but just because we were family, there was no guarantee we'd be an adequate match. I wondered whether Sandra would be willing to be tested, but I doubted it. Donating bone marrow to a child with cancer, even her own, would clash with her health influencer lifestyle.

"I'm so sorry, Honey," Margie said, pulling my head to her shoulder. "What can I do for you? What do you need?"

What I needed was for my little boy to be healthy, but that didn't seem to be part of God's plan.

Lance Peterson

It was less than a week before Becky's dad heard back from the legal representatives of the defunct WFA. It seemed that most of the league's owners had shifted their focus to a new professional co-ed indoor beach tug-of-war league and no longer had any interest in football. The official correspondence gave permission to use the WFA names and brand in their class project under the conditions that Becky had laid out. Mr. Halstead signed off, and the class project was now officially (and legally) underway.

The first order of business was to list the deliverables we would need to produce and their timelines.

"Is anyone familiar with how the WFA did things when the league was still operational?" Mr. Halstead asked to get things started.

I was the only one who raised my hand.

"Okay, Mr. Peterson, the floor's yours."

As my classmates turned to me, I thought back to the countless hours I spent listening to the WFA with Nathan. What made the WFA tick?

"In some ways, the WFA was more like professional wrestling than a football league. The players were real, and the teams competed hard, but there were always story arcs that carried through the entire season, along with single-game storylines as well. These stories were always swirling just below the surface and were just as, if not more, important than the scores in the games. If Becky's dad is correct, which I'm sure he is, we won't be allowed to use any existing characters or storylines, and we'll have to come up with our own."

That gave Mr. Halstead a place to start, and he turned back to the class.

"So what kinds of story arcs do we want to carry across the season?"

The class stared back at him blankly.

"Let me put it differently. What kinds of stories do you like the best?"

"Hot chicks and cars!"

"Thank you for that thoughtful response, Brody. We'll call that one 'True Love'."

"Revenge!"

That was Terry Crowder, the class clown and a good example of the impact of ADHD on the adolescent male brain. Terry had the attention span of a goldfish, but he seemed really caught up in the discussion.

"The big comeback. Everyone likes to cheer for the underdogs."

And that was from Becky, who watched me with a sly smile playing across her lips. Mr. Halstead jumped back into the conversation.

"Great work! Revenge, comebacks, and true love, it is. Next, we need to build our cast of characters. Who's our hero, and who's the villain?"

"The quarterback is pretty much always the hero on a football team. They have the ball in their hands most of the time, and most of the focus is on them."

"Of course you'd say that, Kyle."

Kyle Vander Hooven was the backup quarterback on the varsity team and our resident expert on all things football. But he wasn't wrong.

"So, who's our quarterback? Tell me about him."

Ideas started flying back and forth across the classroom.

"He's a local boy who grew up on a corn farm outside Cedar Rapids. Maybe he's a big-time quarterback, but he's never forgotten his roots."

"He needs a manly-sounding name, something like Jimmy Rockets."

"Jimmy Rockets sounds like an anime robot. How about Johnny Thunder?"

"That sounds too much like that superhero guy, the one in that movie that lost all the money."

"How about Johnny Tornado? The quarterback with a twister for an arm and a heart full of gold."

There were general murmurs of agreement from the class, and so Johnny Tornado was born.

"Maybe he's been away for a while, playing in a foreign country, but he's had to come home to look after his momma."

"There are no foreign football leagues, dumbass."

"Oh yeah, I'm googling it right now, and there are football leagues everywhere!"

"Those are soccer leagues, dumbass. The Europeans call soccer football."

"Language, Mr. Zimmerman, language. But you are correct, those are indeed soccer leagues."

"Do they have a league up in Canada? That's a foreign country, isn't it?"

"Sure, if you say so. But they do have a league. So, Johnny was playing up in Canada before coming back to Cedar Falls to look after his momma."

"He needs a signature move, just like a professional wrestler!"

"How about the Cyclone Spiral. 'It's late in the game, and the Skyhammers need a touchdown. Johnny Tornado is in the huddle, windmilling his arms like a rock star. That can only mean one thing--it's time to unleash the Cyclone Spiral.' What do you think?"

"That sounds kind of corny, if you ask me."

"Our audience is a seven-year-old boy. Boys that age are all about corny."

And just like that, we had our hero. Mr. Halstead smiled as he spoke to the class.

"Great work, everyone. Now let's round out our cast."

By the end of class, we'd fleshed out the other main characters for the season. There was Sadie-Lynn Hart, veterinarian by day and head cheerleader by night. She was Johnny's childhood best friend, but cruel fate had torn them apart. She found out that Johnny was back in town when she saved his Great Dane after he swallowed a chew toy. Now, fate has brought them together again on the Skyhammers. Will true love win, or will fate pull them apart once and for all?

The villain was Bartholomew "Barty" Hogsquat, the evil new owner of the Skyhammers, who inherited the team when his uncle died unexpectedly. He was a real estate developer from Iowa City whose dastardly plan was to lose every game so he could fold the team, tear down the stadium, and then sell the land.

"Isn't that the plot of a mediocre sports movie from the eighties?"

"You're probably right, Lena, but that's okay. Anyone old enough to remember the eighties is probably losing their memory by now, anyway. And, just for the record, that movie was comedy gold."

It turned out that Old Barty Hogsquat had an evil girlfriend, Morgana Loveless, who was Alexander's lawyer and a three-time runner-up in the Ms. Heartless Lawyer beauty pageant.

Just before the class ended, Esme Delgado raised her hand. Esme was timid and rarely said anything in class, so we all quieted down to hear what she had to say.

"Lance, if we're doing this for your brother, shouldn't we write him into the storyline?"

And that was how Nate the Unstoppable, equipment manager extraordinaire, came to be.

******

Becky and I continued to work closely together at the dealership. Since our class only had a couple of weeks to pull everything together and start the WFA season broadcasts, we also spent most of our evenings mapping out various plotlines and characters and figuring out how they would all come together. I was enjoying my time with her, but also beginning to feel guilty for taking her away from her boyfriend, Carl.

"I appreciate everything you're doing to help make the Skyhammers season happen, Becky, but I can stay on top of things for a few nights if you'd rather spend some time with Carl. He must be missing you something fierce."

Becky looked annoyed as she glanced up from the game script she was working on.

"Why in God's name would I want to spend more time with Carl?"

I was a bit surprised by her response, but I answered her anyway.

"Well, he is your boyfriend, and girls often enjoy spending time with their boyfriends."

"Who says he's my boyfriend?"

"Well... Carl, for starters. I've always found it a bit off-putting, but he talks about you like he talks about his truck or hunting rifle."

"So, I guess you must think I'm the President of the United States then."

"What?"

I thought I'd been following the conversation, but apparently I'd lost the plot.

"According to you, all I have to do is tell you that I'm the President of the United States, and that will make it true."

I had the feeling that if I looked at my shoe, it would be encased in a cow patty, because it seemed like I had stepped in it.

"Look, I'm sorry if I made a wrong assumption, but weren't you with Carl the night you all got caught vandalizing the dealership?"

Becky exhaled in annoyance and stopped typing. She crossed her arms as she looked over at me.

"It's none of your business, but if I tell you about Carl, will you drop the subject and never bring it up again?"

When I nodded my head in agreement, she continued.

"Carl and I grew up next door to each other, and we played together as kids. If you can get past his gruff exterior, he's a really sweet guy. He was good to me when my mom died--like he was there for me, you know. So, I was there for him when he told me--and you can't share this with anyone--that he isn't interested in folks like me."

"Folks like you... You mean girls? He's not interested in girls?"

"To be fair, he's not interested in boys either. He's just not interested, plain and simple. I think the fancy term for it is asexual, but for him, he would just rather play video games or drive his quad instead. I agreed to be his girlfriend because, well, why not? It doesn't cost me anything, and it gets the guys off his back in the locker room.

"We did try kissing once, a few years ago, and it turned out he's an excellent kisser. I would have kissed him again, but he looked at me like he'd just eaten a particularly mushy piece of turnip. For him, it wasn't romantic in the slightest."

I heard what Becky was saying, but I was starting to get kind of annoyed.

"If he's such a good guy, why did he bust up my dad's cars like that? That was a total dick move."

Becky looked a bit sad when she replied.

"You can believe me or not, but Carl didn't want to do any of that. But he lives in fear that someone on the team is going to figure out that he might be 'less than a man', so he does dumb shit like that to preempt them. He was so upset afterward that he almost puked, and he's still trying to work up the nerve to come and apologize to your dad."

I sat silently for a minute as one of my core assumptions about the world shattered. If Carl wasn't a huge flaming asshole, what did that mean for the rest of my understanding of the universe? Does gravity actually push you up rather than pull you down? Do anchovies and pineapple taste good on pizza? If Becky is single, do I have a shot with her?

******

One challenge we hadn't anticipated was recruiting folks to be the on-air talent for the season. I figured that the drama students in the class would be eager to step into the roles, but I was sadly mistaken. They knew it would take a lot of time and practice to perfect each week's game script, and then more time to record it. Nobody wanted to commit that kind of time or effort.

The issue came to a head two weeks before our first scheduled broadcast: the pre-season extravaganza. Things were so bad that I volunteered to take on one of the roles.

"I'd be willing to do it, but my brother would probably recognize my voice. Wouldn't it be better to choose someone he doesn't know?"

Noah Zimmerman waved his hand eagerly in response to my question. He was a stalwart of the IT and Audiovisual clubs, and I don't think I had ever seen him as enthusiastic about anything as he was about this project.

"I could use a pitch bender to lower Lance's voice so his brother would never recognize it."

Esme Delgado quickly followed Noah's offer with one of her own, saying that she could do my make-up if I needed to appear on-screen to change my appearance. Mr. Halstead smiled at her enthusiasm before he turned back to me.

"What do you think, Lance? Are you our new play-by-play man?"

I was just beginning to curse my fate when Becky raised her hand.

"I'll do the color commentary."

That would mean spending even more time with Becky. Yes please!

The last issue we had to tackle was where to find game footage to use in the weekly league summary. We planned to produce each game as a standalone podcast, which wouldn't require any visuals, but the weekly league summary would be posted on social media and would need to include visuals. After some discussion, Noah Zimmerman had an idea.

"Maybe we could just cobble together some footage from college and NFL games? I can strip the names off the backs of the jerseys using some AI visual processing software and call it a day."

Mr. Halstead looked skeptical.

"I don't think that's a good idea. The big networks are aggressive about protecting their copyright on game broadcasts. If one of them happened to find out what we are doing, we could get the school in big trouble."

Noah sat glumly for a minute before perking back up.

"What if we use footage from that football league in Canada?"

We did some research, and it looked like that idea might work until Becky pointed out its fatal flaw.

"It says here that they have 12 players on the field, which is 110 yards long."

Noah scoffed at her concerns.

"No one is going to be counting the number of players on the field during a video highlight package. Or I can digitally remove one of the players... as long as it's not the quarterback."

Becky looked a bit happier, but she had one more concern.

"Shouldn't we be worried that the league office in Canada might notice that we're using their footage?"

"I'm not too worried. They'd be too polite to say anything about it, even if they do."

CHAPTER 4

Michael Peterson

I was surprisingly nervous about the first broadcast. The kids had done a fabulous job so far on their class project. Nathan hadn't stopped talking about the pre-season extravaganza video the class had put together, and he was chomping at the bit for the season to begin.

"Can you believe that Johnny Tornado and Sadie-Lynn grew up right next door to each other, Daddy? And now they're with the same team! I'm happy for them. Do you think they might even become boyfriend and girlfriend? I'd be okay with that as long as they don't kiss.

"I'm not sure I like this Barthololo... Bartholo... this Barty Hogsquat guy, though. I think he might be up to no good. And that Morgana Loveless kind of reminds me of Mom. Johnny and Sadie-Lynn better be careful around them."

I felt a sharp pain in my gut when Nathan mentioned his mother, but I gave him my best "don't let him see the gut punch" smile.

"I think you might be right, Nathan. I don't trust Barty or Morgana either."

"But did you hear, Daddy? The equipment manager has the same name as me! But they call him Nate. Do you think I should be a Nate? If I call myself Nate, do you think that I could be unstoppable? Or the equipment manager for the Skyhammers?"

Seven-year-olds ask an awful lot of questions, but it seemed to keep him distracted from his treatments for the rest of the week, so I didn't mind. It was now confirmed: Nathan would need a bone marrow transplant, but we hadn't found a compatible donor yet. In the meantime, the WFA gave him something to focus on besides the hospital and test results.

Margie and I arrived about ten minutes before the "broadcast" began. The class had posted the podcast earlier in the day, but we wanted to maintain the illusion that the game was being played live, just across town from Nathan's room in the hospital. Margie was a last-minute addition to the broadcast party. She was so good to us and had helped Becky and Lance with the planning and execution of the class project, so it felt right to invite her. I asked Nate about it the night before, and he was excited she was coming.

"I like Margie, Daddy. She's super nice and she smells good too. And she makes you smile. I love her for that."

I brought Nathan's lucky Skyhammers jersey from home. It was impossible to get it on around his various tubes and monitoring wires, however, so I made do by draping it over him like a blanket. I sat on one side of his bed, holding his hand, while Lance sat on the other. Nathan was beginning to get nervous.

"Do you think that we'll win today, Daddy? I'm not sure about this new quarterback. What if he doesn't work out?"

I smiled and tousled Nathan's hair while Lance answered his question.

"Johnny Tornado was born and raised right here in Iowa, so you know you can count on him, rain or shine, sleet or snow. I've got a good feeling about this season. I think this could be our year."

Just before we started the podcast, there was a hesitant knock at the door. I saw Becky standing there, holding a grocery bag and a stuffed bear wearing a Skyhammers jersey.

"This little guy told me there's a Skyhammers game today. Do you mind if we join you to listen in?"

Nathan's eyes went wide as he saw the stuffed bear.

"I don't mind, and the bear can sit with me if he wants,

Becky walked over and set the bear beside him on the bed.

"Does he have a name?"

"He doesn't have one yet, so you can call him whatever you'd like."

Nathan thought for a minute, then replied, "I'm going to call him Kernel!"

Nathan looked around the room with a frown on his face.

"The only free seat is beside my brother, who's kind of stinky."

Becky smiled a bit too much at that comment.

"I don't mind sitting beside your brother. We're friends from school."

Then she leaned over to whisper conspiratorially in his ear.

"Don't tell anyone, but your brother's kind of stinky at school, too!"

Nathan giggled as he squeezed Kernel and went quiet as the broadcast began. Unlike the actual broadcasts of past seasons, which were rather traditional and dull, we wanted to make sure that ours would land with a seven-year-old, so we went WAY over the top.

Welcome, fans, to a new season of Skyhammers football here on the World Football Alliance broadcast network! I'm your play-by-play announcer, Jim Eaglesmith, and with me in the booth is the lovely and talented Alyssa Anderson. We have a new presenting sponsor for our games this season, Peterson's Used Cars & Trucks, right here in downtown Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

"That's us, Daddy! Did we sponsor the Skyhammers?"

"We did. We're sponsoring them all season long. It was Margie's idea."

I don't know where that came from, but Nathan looked up at Margie with stars in his eyes; it felt like the white lie was worth it.

What do you think our chances are this season, Alyssa?

Well, Jim, I think we might be in for a special season here with the Skyhammers. Their new quarterback, Johnny Tornado, has nerves of steel and an arm like a twister.

I heard that Johnny Tornado has a special throw, Alyssa. Can you tell us more about that?

I certainly can, Jim. Since his high school days in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, Johnny has been perfecting an unstoppable throw called the Cyclone Spiral. You can expect him to use it at crucial moments in the game.

And who are the Skyhammers playing today, Alyssa?

They're playing against their biggest rivals, the Charleston Blackcoats, Jim. The Blackcoats are coached by Andre Rattington, who used to be with the Skyhammers. Rumor has it that he stole their best plays and brought them to Charleston!

The fans do not like Coach Rattington, Alyssa, not one bit.

They sure don't, Jim, but they like their quarterback, Ivan Vlad "the Impaler," who is the current holder of the "Gridiron Gods" Championship Belt, even less. They're booing him as he struts around on the sidelines holding his belt in the air. Here in Iowa, we'd say he's too big for his britches."

"I didn't even know there was a 'Gridiron Gods' Championship Belt, Daddy! I hope the Skyhammers win today so Johnny can take the belt."

I noticed that Becky and Lance were on pins and needles, waiting to see if Nathan would recognize their voices. I had to admit that I could hardly recognize Lance's voice with all the effects added. He sounded like a fifty-year-old chain smoker.

If Nathan noticed any similarities between Becky and Lance, and the announcers, he certainly didn't show it. The broadcast seemed to be working; Nathan was so caught up in the game that we had to stop him from jumping out of bed when he got excited.

As we approached halftime, the first side plot began to unfold. The kids had told me it was coming, but didn't say what it was; they didn't want to spoil the surprise.

Do you know who that man standing on the sidelines with the pointy mustache and a top hat is, Alyssa? He looks like he's up to no good."

That's Bartholomew 'Barty' Hogsquat, Jim, the new owner of the Skyhammers. Rumor has it that he wants to move the team to Iowa City so he can tear down the stadium and sell off the land. He's with his girlfriend, Morgana Loveless, who plans to take over the cheerleaders from our own Sadie-Lynn Hart and replace their country music routines with ballet!"

"I told you I didn't trust that Barty guy, Daddy! Why would he wear a top hat to a football game? And I don't like ballet; I think they should stick to country."

It seems that we had piqued Nathan's interest, if nothing else.

The fans would never stand for that, Alyssa. There would be rioting in the streets!

But wait! What are Barty and Morgana doing? It looks like they're sneaking up behind the cheerleaders and attaching wires to the backs of their uniforms. What do you think those wires are for, Jim?

If I'm not mistaken, Alyssa, it looks like they're going to use those wires to pull the uniforms right off the cheerleaders during the next dance routine, leaving them in nothing but their undies in front of the crowd! They'll be too embarrassed to continue! Then that awful Morgana will take over, and we'll be stuck listening to classical music and watching ballet for the rest of the season!

"We've got to help the cheerleaders, Daddy! Someone needs to tell them what's going on. I want to kick that Barty guy right in the shins!"

It seemed our plot might be working too well. Nathan was getting quite worked up. Fortunately, he wouldn't be worked up for long.

Wait a minute, Alyssa, someone is sneaking along the field behind Barty and Morgana, unclipping the wires.

I think that's Nate the Unstoppable, equipment manager extraordinaire for the Skyhammers. Believe it or not, he's only seven years old and he's already an equipment manager. It looks like he's single-handedly rescuing the cheerleaders and... No! He wouldn't...

What's happening, Alyssa? Let our fans listening at home know what you're seeing!

After rescuing the cheerleaders, it looks like Nate has snuck up behind Barty and Morgana and attached the wires to their pants! When they set off their trap, the cheerleaders will be fine, and they'll be the ones in their underwear!

Nathan smiled and pumped his fist.

"I like that, Nate, Daddy. Do you think I could be the equipment manager for the Skyhammers when I get better?"

I was overwhelmed with emotion and had to turn away. It was the first time in over a year that Nathan had talked about the possibility of life after cancer. Lance jumped in to distract Nathan and give me a minute to pull myself together.

"You know, Nathan, I heard that the Skyhammers choose a new equipment manager each season. Nobody knows more about the Skyhammers than you, or is a bigger fan. They'll pick you next year, for sure!"

"You think so, Lance? I know I'd do a great job."

"I'm positive, Buddy. You'd be the best."

It's the end of the third quarter, and the cheerleaders, led by Sadie-Lynn Hart, are heading onto the field for their big dance routine. Morgana and Barty are watching them from the sidelines, rubbing their hands together in glee. They're sure their plan can't fail! What do you think is going to happen, Alyssa?

I'm not sure, Jim, but it looks like we're about to find out. Barty just pulled a big black box with a red button out of his pocket and pressed it. Oh. My. Goodness. The crowd loves the cheerleaders' routine, but Barty and Morgana are left standing on the sidelines in their matching boxers! I think there's something on the boxers, Jim, can you make out what it is?

I'm not sure, Alyssa, but I think it might be a pig wearing sunglasses riding on a John Deere!

Barty and Morgana are trying to cover themselves with their hands, but it's not working, and it's a long way to the locker room. But Nate the Unstoppable, ever the gentleman, has brought them some oversized Skyhammers jerseys to wear, and the crowd is giving Nate a nice round of applause. That's one classy equipment manager.

Nathan was laughing so hard he could barely talk. Clearly, the visual of the bad guys standing around in their undies tickled his funny bone. But it was evident that he was getting tired. After a minute, he lay back on the bed and could barely keep his eyes open. But his beloved Skyhammers were down by 3 with less than a minute left to play, so he couldn't go to sleep yet.

Things appear bleak for the Skyhammers, but wait... Johnny Tornado is swinging his arms in big circles in the huddle. What do you think that means, Alyssa?

That can only mean one thing, Jim. It must be time for the Cyclone Spiral. It's never let him down. They break the huddle, and four wide receivers line up to the left. At the snap, there it is! Johnny throws the Cyclone Spiral down the field into the end zone, where it's... CAUGHT! Touchdown and game.

Ivan Vlad is so mad that he's thrown the 'Gridiron Gods' Championship Belt to the ground and kicked it onto the field. Luckily, Nate the Unstoppable has scooped it up and brought it over to Johnny, who is standing at midfield with Sadie-Lynn Hart. Nate gives the belt to Sadie, who buckles it around Johnny's waist. Now, Johnny and Sadie-Lynn are gazing adoringly into each other's eyes, and it looks like they might even kiss... but Johnny turns away at the last moment to shake the losing team's hands.

I knew the kids had recorded a short post-game segment, but we turned off the broadcast and quietly left Nathan's room. After all the excitement, he'd fallen asleep.

"Great work, 'Alyssa' and 'Jim'. You both were incredible!"

Lance blushed a little, and Becky seemed very pleased. I noticed they were standing so close together that they were practically holding hands, but I didn't say anything.

"It was a team effort, Mr. Peterson. The class has been working hard on the broadcasts; they'll be thrilled with how well it landed with Nathan. We'll head back to the dealership to get to work, and then start on next week's broadcast."

I couldn't have been prouder of what those kids had accomplished, and I was feeling pretty good about the day overall when it got even better.

"That's a pretty great kid you raised there," Margie said with a sigh, and I felt her take my hand as she leaned against me.

"I know," I said absentmindedly as I turned and kissed the top of her head. I froze, realizing what I had just done, and looked down at her, terrified that I had overstepped my bounds. But she smiled at me, reached behind my head, and pulled me down for a proper kiss. My day had gone from 'pretty good' to 'great'.

Lance Peterson

The rest of the weekend went by in a blur. On Saturday, Becky and I were so stoked at the success of the first broadcast that we stayed up late into the evening working on the script for the second. I spent most of Sunday at the hospital with my brother. We watched the YouTube highlights package our class put together, which we called "This Week in the WFA."

You couldn't tell that most of the game footage was repurposed from the football league up in Canada, although we had to make sure there wasn't any snow on the ground in the footage we used. Noah Zimmerman had been dismayed to learn that the Canadians played with their uprights at the front of the endzone instead of the back.

"Isn't that a safety hazard? Like, I'm running deep looking over my shoulder and then BAM, I'm kissing the uprights."

He had a good point. The ways of the Canadians were strange and mysterious. It took him forever to figure out how to use AI to shift the goalposts back to their rightful place at the back of the endzone.

My brother loved the highlights and the over-the-top commentary about each game, but he quickly grew tired and spent much of the afternoon sleeping while I worked on my homework in his room. Dad joined us after the dealership closed, and Margie brought sandwiches and potato chips for dinner, which we enjoyed with Nathan.

Monday started like most other school days, with a blaring alarm followed by a groan of protest and a quick inventory of possible excuses I could use to skip school. The thought of sharing the success of the first week's broadcast with the rest of the media studies class, however, finally motivated me to get out of bed. As I stumbled to the bathroom, I looked at my phone and saw that I had 27 new messages, which was about 27 more than usual. One was from Becky, so I opened it first.

Becky: Look at the numbers on our broadcast and the YouTube video!!!

When I went to bed the night before, the broadcast had a couple of dozen listens, and the YouTube video had maybe twice that number of views. I figured the only people interested would be Nathan, the folks in our class, and perhaps the odd parent or two. When I looked at the view counter on the broadcast, I nearly did a spit-take--23,000 views and counting! The highlights package had even more views. What in the name of John Deere and diesel fuel was going on?

Trust Noah Zimmerman to have figured it out by the time we all got to class. One of the larger sports influencers had seen our broadcast on his recommended videos feed and listened to it out of curiosity since he thought the WFA had folded. Once he read the biography we'd posted and realized that a high school class put the broadcast together, he decided to give us a boost. From there, it seems that we kind of went viral.

Commenters loved the over-the-top storylines and the budding romance between Johnny and Sadie-Lynn:

"I hate football, but I love the new WFA #TeamSadieLynn"

"I wish our quarterback had a Cyclone Spiral. We stink! #NineLosingSeasonsAndCounting"

"Barty and Morgana can kick rocks #YouSuck"

The broadcast took off when, as a joke, a national sports radio show began reporting on the WFA at the end of their show. A couple of online sports aggregators joined in, and our little broadcast quickly began generating larger numbers than the actual WFA had before it folded.

******

With the newfound interest in our broadcasts and league summaries, our classmates decided to raise the stakes. What better way to do that than to have live interviews with some of the key characters, particularly Johnny Tornado and Sadie-Lynn Hart? The challenge was finding people who could convincingly portray a star quarterback and the stunning head cheerleader.

The solution to the first part of the problem was easier than we might have imagined. Becky and I were discussing some possible ideas for Johnny Tornado at the dealership when Margie had an idea.

"The other day, your dad told me he ran into Chip Washington, who works at the hardware store. He would look like a star quarterback because he is, or at least was, one not so long ago. Why don't you go down there and pitch him on the idea?"

Chip was a good sport, and he volunteered to help us when we told him about our project. He was perfect for the role of Johnny Tornado since he looked like a star quarterback straight out of central casting.

It took a few days longer to find our Sadie-Lynn Hart, but she, too, fell right into our laps. Becky and I were at the hospital to visit my brother, and were commiserating about how hard it was to find a good Sadie-Lynn Hart. As we talked, an older woman riding the elevator with us cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. If you're looking for someone who could realistically portray a head cheerleader, you should go and speak with Nurse Taylor down in obstetrics. She started with us a couple of months ago and was on a national championship cheer team in college. And she's just the nicest girl. If you asked her, I bet she would help you out."

We thanked the lady for her suggestion and made a detour to obstetrics. Nurse Taylor was kind but not particularly interested in our project until we mentioned that she would be working with Chip Washington. Her whole face lit up when we mentioned him, and she was instantly on board.

We filmed the first segment with Chip and Nurse Taylor later that week. When Chip saw who would be playing, Sadie-Lynn Hart, he blushed and started to get a little tongue-tied. Seeing a handsome athlete like Chip reduced to acting like a shy schoolboy was kind of cute.

"Hi, Traci,' he stammered awkwardly, "It's nice to see you again."

"It's nice to see you, too, Chip. I'm sorry things didn't work out the way you hoped with the draft."

"That's alright, it's water under the bridge."

Becky tried to get them back on track.

"Sooo... about those clips we need to film."

Chip and Traci seemed surprised that there were other people in the room.

"Sorry..." they said at the same time, laughing awkwardly. "We went to school together. Traci was amazing... Chip was the quarterback for our..."

Becky sighed.

"Tell you what. Why don't we get these clips done, then you two can take some time to catch up?"

To no one's surprise, the chemistry between them was electric.

******

By our fourth game, we'd become a viral sensation. The broadcast got so popular that we had to plaster the door to Nathan's hospital room with signs begging people not to give away the secret inadvertently.

As much as our fans seemed to enjoy the fictitious and over-the-top football action, they were even bigger fans of the off-field melodramas that played out each week. Entire message boards were dedicated to guessing the side plot of each game. No one had gotten one right yet, but some were surprisingly close.

For the second game, Barty and Morgana hired some masked thugs to ensure that Johnny Tornado didn't play that week. They cornered him on the sidelines, and it wasn't looking good until Nate the Unstoppable snuck up behind them and pulled off the thugs' masks. It turned out that the lead thug was Sadie-Lynn's long-lost Uncle Elmer, who had been missing for over a decade following a tragic fishing accident.

Uncle Elmer wasn't dead; he'd just lost his memory after falling from his fishing boat and hitting his head on the dock. When he saw Sadie-Lynn, the memories flooded back, and he knocked out the other thug before chasing Barty and Morgana out of the stadium! Poor Morgana could barely run in her heels, and Barty wouldn't wait to help her, so Nate stepped in to save her by distracting Uncle Elmer with a delicious pork chop on a stick. And of course, the Skyhammers won, after Johnny used the Cyclone Spiral to finish another comeback.

At the third game, Morgana arrived with her own dance team to replace Sadie-Lynn and the cheerleaders. After a confrontation during the halftime show, they agreed to have a dance-off to determine who would be the official Skyhammers cheerleaders and who would go home.

Things were looking bleak for Sadie-Lynn after Morgana's dance team performed the entire first movement of Swan Lake! But Nate the Unstoppable had a brilliant idea and rushed to Sadie-Lynn's side. In no time, he taught her how to do the Dougie, and the entire stadium began doing it with them. The visiting team got so distracted that Johnny scored a touchdown while they weren't even paying attention. That was the only game that entire season in which Johnny didn't need to use the Cyclone Spiral to win.

The fourth game began badly for Johnny Tornado. The Canadians claimed that Johnny had stolen his Cyclone Spiral from them, and they teamed up with Barty and Morgana to take revenge. When the teams came running out before the game, there was more smoke and fireworks than usual, and Johnny got a little disoriented. Before he could say, "Where in the corn capital of the world am I?" he heard a metallic clang as a cage dropped down on him from above. Then he heard a growl followed by a roar!

When the smoke cleared, Johnny was in a cage match with a Canadian polar bear! Johnny ducked and dodged as best he could, but it was no use. It was inevitable that he would become a frozen polar bear treat. However, just when it looked like he was doomed, more smoke billowed in, and Nate ran up to the cage with some items hidden in a box. As the smoke dissipated, Johnny and the polar bear were sitting at a card table, wearing visors, and playing poker.

And that's how the Skyhammers got Kernel, the polar bear, as their mascot.

******

While the broadcast was doing better than I could have imagined, my life wasn't all sweet corn and BBQ pork chops. My brother still wasn't responding to the latest round of treatment, and we hadn't found a match for his bone marrow transplant. I thought that was the worst of it until I overheard my father talking to Margie on the phone late one Sunday night.

"I don't know what to do, Margie. The insurance company won't say whether they'll pay for the bone marrow transplant; they just keep sending more paperwork. I've heard about this happening; they figure if they can delay the surgery long enough, then Nathan will just pass away, and they won't have to pay.

"There's no way I can afford to pay upfront for the surgery, even if the insurance company might pay us back at some point in the future. I just don't know what to do."

I didn't know how to help my dad, but I knew I had to do something. So, I went to the smartest person I knew, Becky, for her advice. After some consideration, Becky suggested that the class organize a fundraiser where we'd sell Nate the Unstoppable jerseys for $50, with signed jerseys for $100. She spoke to Edgar Hopkins' father and got a great deal on his leftover Skyhammers jerseys, and then we worked the jerseys into our broadcasts and social media summaries.

Becky also had an idea for how we could get Nathan even more involved in the broadcast, and she came with me to see him the next day.

"Nathan, we have a problem you might be able to help us with. The Skyhammers will be selling Nate the Unstoppable jerseys on their broadcasts, but Nate has a bad case of writer's cramp and can't sign them himself. One of our classmates works with the Skyhammers, and they were looking for someone who could sign them in his place. And I thought to myself, 'Lance's brother is also a Nathan; maybe he could sign them?'"

Nathan was thrilled, and the jerseys sold surprisingly well. In the second week of sales, a famous rapper wore the jersey on stage at an awards show (who wouldn't want to wear a jersey with the last name "the Unstoppable" on it), and sales skyrocketed. By the time they were all signed and shipped, Nathan had writer's cramp for real.

CHAPTER 5

Michael Peterson

One of the least pleasant aspects of the kids' viral hit broadcast was that it seemed to attract grifters and conmen like flies to manure. Unfortunately, my ex-wife, Sandra, was both.

I was okay with the fact that she hadn't reached out to me after she left; she burned that bridge when she abandoned the kids and ran off with my best friend. It would have been nice if she'd paid her court-ordered child support, but we were doing okay without her money. However, what really burnt my britches was that she hadn't even tried to reach out to the boys even once, not even a card for their birthdays or during the holidays.

Now, with Nathan and the WFA suddenly in the spotlight, Sandra was all over social media milking his illness for all it was worth.

So grateful for your love and support for my son Nathan in his desperate struggle. Thank goodness he has the right supplements to keep him strong! #ThoughtsandPrayers, #SandrasNaturalEssentials

I would do anything to help my baby heal. #MiraclesDoHappen #HealingStonesBySandra

As much as it pissed me off, I was an adult and would get over it. However, I knew Lance was taking his mother's antics personally. The fact that she was playing the sympathy card to profit off Nathan drove him crazy. After listening to him rant himself hoarse for three mornings in a row, I knew I had to do something, so I took a few minutes to chat with Becky's father when he picked her up from the dealership that evening.

"Michael, your ex-wife sounds... difficult."

Mr. James had a gift for understatement.

"That's one way to put it. I'm also a fan of descriptors like awful, heartless, cruel, narcissistic, and bit... well, you get where I'm going with that one."

He nodded at me sympathetically.

"Unfortunately, there's not much you can do about her. If you try to get the grieving mother to stop showing her support for her son, you'll look like some kind of controlling monster. You could try to get an injunction, but for what? Finally showing an interest in her son's life? Being tacky?

"The best thing to do, if possible, is to try to ignore her. Don't feed the beast. Just stay focused on your sons and let karma take care of the rest."

I knew he was right, but I found it galling. Nathan had spent so much of that first year of treatment crying for his mother, who was off living her best life. It just seemed so unfair. But karma is like the mail; it might take a while to reach you, but it always gets delivered in the end--even in Florida.

******

As the kids worked on the sixth game, I received an urgent email from Mr. Halstead. It appeared that the people who used to run the WFA had noticed its sudden uptick in popularity and had sent the school a legal notice demanding 100% of the funds raised using their brand.

Mr. Halstead asked Becky's father and me to meet him after school to decide how to respond. I figured Mr. James's high-powered law degree would be more helpful under the circumstances, but I agreed to meet them at a coffee shop after work. When I arrived, Mr. Halstead was already chatting with Mr. James and an attractive auburn-haired woman I didn't recognize.

"Hi Michael, thanks for joining us. This is an old friend of mine, Amanda Featherstone. She's a freelance journalist and problem solver who might be able to help us with our WFA issue."

After further introductions, Mr. Halstead gave Amanda the floor.

"The way I see it, you have two separate but related issues. The first is the folks from the WFA sniffing around you for money. I'm sure they are not expecting you to hand over all the money you've raised, but they will push to get as much as they can. I have some thoughts on how we might deal with them, but I would love to hear your thoughts, Mr. James.

"Please, call me Bill."

That was a surprise. I was pretty sure Bill's own parents called him Mr. James. I wondered what would happen if I started calling him "Bill." I suspected it wouldn't go well.

"Thank you, Bill. Your bigger problem is that everyone and their uncle will want a part of your success. You could be buried under a small mountain of grifters and conmen if you're not careful. The floor is yours, Bill."

"Thank you, Amanda. The good news is that we sought and obtained legal permission to use the WFA name and brands before we started the class project, which they freely gave us. The bad news is that we are precluded from using them in a commercial capacity. I never thought for a minute that this crazy project would make any money, so I wasn't particularly worried about how they might define commercial activity."

"Is there anything we can do preemptively to ensure that any funds you raise are considered non-commercial? That might take care of the issue with the WFA."

"What if we set up the Nathan Peterson Trust for kids battling childhood cancers? We could use the funds to help defray your costs, Michael. Anything that's left over at the end could go to support other kids in the future. All in favor?"

The vote was 3-0 with one abstention (me).

"That's incredibly generous of you all, but shouldn't we check with the kids first? They're doing the work, shouldn't they decide where the money goes?"

Mr. Halstead said he would confirm with the kids on Monday.

"Then there's the question of how to deal with your bigger issue. In these kinds of situations, I tend to think that the best defense is a good offense. You want to shine the light as brightly as possible on one of the grifters trying to cash in on your work, setting a clear example of what will happen to other assholes trying to take advantage of a sick young boy and a generous high school class.

"Is there anyone out there who might be ready for a little prime time exposure?"

"Well, I wouldn't normally suggest something like this, but my ex-wife hasn't lifted a finger to help or contact Nathan for the past three years, and now he's all over her social media feeds, even though she still hasn't reached out to him. It's driving me crazy, and my older son, Lance, is fit to be tied. And she did say in her last post that she would do anything to help Nathan."

Amanda took notes as we talked.

"Alright, I'll investigate your ex-wife more closely. If she's as shameless as you make her out to be, she could be the perfect candidate for an exposé. Every great story needs a good villain."

As we were getting ready to leave, Amanda asked if she could take Bill to dinner sometime "to learn more about this extraordinary story."

He blushed and stammered but agreed.

Lance Peterson

Working with Chip and Traci on the weekly Lance and Sadie-Lynn interviews was a blast. They were both incredibly warm and kind, and they seemed to have resumed their friendship from high school like they hadn't missed a day. It was Chip, as much as any of us, who really came through for Nathan, bringing his favorite quarterback to life and helping us find a bone marrow match.

By the season's fourth game, I was so worried about finding Nathan a donor that I could barely focus. Chip noticed my anxiety and asked me what was wrong. He looked thoughtful when I told him about the need to find a donor match for Nathan. Later, while filming our spot, he ad-libbed a few additional lines.

"As much as I loved playing in our game this week, I want to tell you about our superfan, Nathan Peterson. Nathan needs a bone marrow transplant, and they haven't found a match, so I encourage you all to get tested to see if you can help an important part of our Skyhammers family. We'll share the information on how to get tested at the end of this segment. Thank you, and God bless."

The week following Chip's first appeal, the number of potential donors getting tested doubled. It doubled again the week after, and that was when a donor was finally found. The positive karma seemed to rub off on Chip as well. That same week, a famous sports commentator, Trevor B., went on one of his famous rants on national television, saying that Chip deserved a shot in the NFL.

"I remember Chip Washington, and that kid can flat out play. Maybe his family didn't have the money to send him to fancy camps with famous former quarterbacks, but that shouldn't mean anything. This is the United States of America--our country is built on the promise of equal opportunity for all. How come someone hasn't given him a shot? You're telling me he's worse than some of the zombies teams were rolling out at quarterback last season? Give me a break. Even better, give Chip a break. You won't regret it."

******

The sixth week of the season was memorable for me. Becky and I had been working late again when my dad came in and suggested we take the night off, grab a bite, and catch a movie. Becky didn't need much convincing, and five minutes later, my dad was telling us to drive safely and have fun.

We went to my favorite Czech deli, and each of us ordered pork tenderloin sandwiches as big as our heads, accompanied by cornbread, mashed potatoes, and green bean casserole. We kept the conversation casual as we enjoyed our meals.

"Lance is an unusual name. Who are you named after?"

"Believe it or not, my full name is Lancelot. My mom believed in romance and fairy tales. She named me after Lancelot du Lac, the greatest of the knights of the Round Table. I always felt like a disappointment to her, as if she wanted me to be this larger-than-life figure, an athlete or a rock star or something. Someone who would validate her life choices."

"Well, you are certainly honorable, like Mr. du Lac."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm just teasing you. But a less honorable man might have tried to kiss the pretty girl with whom he spends all his spare time. If he finds her pretty, that is."

I was stunned.

"Maybe the pretty girl has mistaken honor for cluelessness?"

Becky laughed at my self-deprecating humor.

"Why can't it be both?"

For dessert, we had thick slices of apple pie, and I tried to learn a little more about Becky.

"What did you want to be when you were growing up?"

"My dad wanted me to be a Supreme Court Justice, but he's okay if I start as just a regular old lawyer. My mom... she just wanted me to be happy."

"I'm sure both your parents are very proud of you. And I hope you can blend their desires for your future with your own."

"I'm doing pretty well at that, all things considered. For instance, I'm very happy this evening, my Lancelot. Thanks to you."

******

The movie we chose wasn't memorable in any way. It wasn't even bad enough to be noteworthy in its awfulness, just a solid C- across the board. That didn't matter, though; I sat in the darkness holding Becky's hand, thinking maybe, just maybe, everything would work out okay in the end. That thought lasted until about five minutes after our movie ended.

All 12 of the mini-theatres at the cinema led into the same back corridor, and most of the movies that were showing finished around the same time, so it was inevitable that folks would mingle as they made their way out to the parking lot. Due to sheer bad luck, we ended up mingling with Carl and three other football players, including the team's quarterback.

I knew that Carl and Becky weren't really dating, as did Becky, but to the guys on the team, it appeared that she was cheating on Carl with me. As we exited the building, they decided to express their displeasure with the situation physically. One of them grabbed my shirt and pulled me around the corner, away from the departing crowd.

"How dumb do you have to be to cheat on Carl like this in public? Did you think we would let you get away with this?"

While I was desperately trying to think of how to respond in a way that wouldn't end up with me in a hospital bed beside my brother, Becky took the bull by the horns.

"Back off, Jackass," she said, stepping in front of the player who was menacing me. He wasn't as big as Carl--no one was as big as Carl--but he was still large enough to dwarf Becky and me.

"Shut up. Nobody's interested in hearing what the slut has to say."

That was the quarterback joining the discussion and making a serious tactical error. Carl didn't seem to mind if his friends roughed me up a bit, but he wasn't going to let anyone insult Becky like that.

"Becky is my best friend in the world. If Lance makes her happy, then I'm fine with that. If I hear any of you disrespecting Becky again, I'll plant you in the ground like sweet corn in May."

When the human combine harvester speaks, lesser-sized mortals listen. The player holding me let me go, and the quarterback offered Becky a sullen apology. Before they left, Carl glanced in my direction.

"Lance, that goes double for you. If you hurt my girl, Becky, I'll tie you to a post and use you as a tackling dummy."

CHAPTER 6

Michael Peterson

For one magical week, my life started to look up. Amanda reached out to my ex-wife, Sandra, ostensibly to interview her about the sacrifices she'd made for her son. When her piece was published, however, it served as a scathing exposé of a woman who cared more about appearances than her own family and who was trying to leverage her son's illness for her own financial gain.

The fallout from the article was epic. Her social media pages were flooded with angry commenters, to the point that she announced she would be taking a break to "clear the negativity from her aesthetic." I didn't care what she did, as long as she left Lance and Nathan alone.

Similarly, the fallout from the WFA's legal challenge was resolved quickly and practically painlessly. Bill... who am I kidding, Becky's father will always be Mr. James to me, responded to their letter to inform them that 100% of the funds raised would be placed in the Nathan Peterson Trust for children suffering from childhood cancers. And the first beneficiary of the trust would be Nathan Peterson!

Between the jersey sales, sponsorships, and ad revenue from the social media views and streams, there was more than enough money in the trust to cover the upfront costs of the bone marrow transplant. Mr. James also agreed to sue the insurance company on a pro bono basis to force them to meet their obligation to pay for the surgery.

I heard from a bemused Becky that her father had started to behave in quite a peculiar manner. Suddenly, he was leaving the office before six in the evening, taking (some) weekends off, and once, he even wore a pair of shorts with a short-sleeved shirt (although it was still pressed and starched). And what was the cause of this sudden transformation? Amanda Featherstone had started calling on her father, and he seemed both flustered and flattered.

Business was even booming at the dealership. Maybe Peterson's Used Cars & Trucks couldn't compete with the Used Car Megaplex's national advertising budget, but the Used Car Megaplex wasn't the presenting sponsor of the Iowa Skyhammers! That $500 fake sponsorship proved invaluable, and soon we were so busy that we were considering bringing on new salespeople to meet the demand. Even with all the new business, however, we refused to compromise on quality and only sold vehicles we would be proud to drive ourselves.

The kids did their best to work the dealership into the side plots on the broadcasts, to hilarious effect. For instance, there was a game where Barty and Morgana brought an overhead crane to drop green slime on the cheerleaders in the middle of their routine. Thanks to some quick thinking from Nate the Unstoppable, however, the slime was switched with balloons sponsored by Peterson's Used Cars & Trucks.

Another time, Barty and Morgana had a henchman drive the cheerleader's RV to Des Moines to ensure they would miss their game. However, Nate, with the help of Peterson's Used Cars & Trucks, switched the RV for a trailer full of pigs, allowing the cheerleaders to reach the game just in time.

But, as always, the best part of my week was spending time with Margie. I wasn't sure about our status after our first kiss, but I hoped we were dating. However, I couldn't help but feel guilty about how little time I had for her. My evenings and parts of my days were spent at the hospital with Nathan, and we didn't get much time to ourselves. To be clear, Margie never complained or put pressure on me, but I just knew she deserved better.

I was waiting for the right time to talk with Margie, and the opportunity arose that Saturday after the most recent broadcast. Nathan was out like a light after the game, and Becky and Lance offered to stay with him so Margie and I could go out for dinner. As we waited for our mains to arrive, I nervously broached the subject of our relationship.

"It's strange to say, with Nathan struggling in the hospital, but these last couple of weeks have been some of the best of my life, and that's because of you, Margie. But I feel like you deserve better than what I can give you. You deserve to be with someone who can give you their full time and attention. So much of my life revolves around Nathan and the hospital; I just feel like I'm shortchanging you, that I'm not able to give you what I'd like and what you deserve."

Margie gazed across the table at me, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I know your life's complicated, Michael, and your kids are your top priority. I can accept that. But the truth is that I've loved you almost from the first day I met you. Now that I have you, don't think for a second that I'm going to let you get away."

As I said, it was the best week I'd had in a very long time.

Lance Peterson

By the time the eighth game of the season rolled around, we'd settled into a game day routine. Nathan's immune system was too weak for a large gathering in his room, but my dad and I would sit and listen to the game with him, while Margie and Becky called in via video from the waiting room. Nathan wore his lucky Skyhammers jersey and made sure his Nate the Unstoppable stuffy was tucked into the blankets beside him.

"Do you think the Skyhammers will keep their winning streak alive today, Daddy?"

"I have a good feeling about this game, Buddy. Johnny Tornado hasn't lost a game for us yet."

"I'm sure glad he decided to move back home to Iowa, and I think that Sadie-Lynn is good for him, too."

"She seems like a sweet girl, for sure."

"Do you think they'll end up dating? I'd be okay with it if they do. As long as there isn't too much smooching or anything."

One challenge with choosing wilder and wilder sub-plots for the games was that it became increasingly difficult to top ourselves each week. Where can you go after you've had a cage match with a Canadian polar bear? So, for week eight, we decided to take things in a different direction.

The game began normally enough, but the Skyhammers were trailing at half-time, and then things took a turn.

Well, Jim, it seems that Barty and Morgana aren't going to try any of their shenanigans today. Perhaps we'll just have a regular, hard-fought football game.

I don't know, Alyssa, I don't trust them. They've been quiet all game--too quiet. The only thing they've done so far is hand the Skyhammers' backup quarterback, Eric Steiner, a refreshing bottle of fruit juice. You don't think that they would... Oh no! Eric is running off the field toward the bathrooms. I doubt we'll see him again until after the game.

With the first part of their nefarious plan in place, Barty and Morgana just had to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike!

It's halfway through the third quarter, and Johnny Tornado is pacing the sidelines. As he approaches Morgana, she appears to have dropped her handkerchief. Johnny bends down to pick it up for her, as a gentleman should, and... Barty has pulled out an iron bar and struck him on the back of the head! Oh, the humanity! Where are the refs? Someone call a doctor!

I can't believe what I'm seeing, Jim. Barty and Morgana are just walking away from Johnny as if nothing happened, while Johnny is still stooped over and too woozy to stand up.

What are the Skyhammers going to do, Alyssa? It's time for them to send their offense onto the field, but they don't have a quarterback who can play! Johnny can barely stand, and their backup is, how to put it delicately, indisposed. It looks like they're going to have to forfeit the game!

"That's not fair, Daddy! Barty and Morgana hurt Johnny Tornado. They're both... well... they're stinkers! I hate them."

"Let's just listen and see what happens, Buddy. Maybe Nate the Unstoppable has something up his sleeve."

The Skyhammers' coach is arguing with the referees, but it doesn't look good. But wait! I see Nate the Unstoppable running out of the locker room with a helmet. He's talking animatedly with Sadie-Lynn, who's now wearing the helmet and jogging to the coach. She's going in as quarterback! The game is back on.

Barty and Morgana are losing their minds. Barty has his phone out and appears to be yelling at the league commissioner. But Sadie-Lynn doesn't care--she looks like a stone-cold assassin out there, dodging tackles and making plays for the team. I've never seen a quarterback cartwheeling away from pressure, but it seems to be working!

After that, Sadie-Lynn rallied the team for a big comeback, but they were still down by three with a minute and a half remaining. However, Barty and Morgana weren't done yet.

It's almost certainly the game's final drive, and Sadie-Lynn is jogging onto the field... but wait! Barty is running over to the refs holding out his phone. I think it must be the commissioner, Alyssa. After talking for a minute, the ref blows his whistle, indicating that Sadie-Lynn is disqualified from the game for wearing the wrong uniform! Where's the justice?

Sadie-Lynn hangs her head as she removes her helmet. What an unfortunate way for the game to end. She's so frustrated that she tosses her helmet onto the ground and then glances over to Johnny Tornado, who is sitting on the bench. The referee appears ready to whistle that the game is over.

But wait, Jim, it looks like Sadie-Lynn has one last trick up her sleeve. She's walking purposefully over to Johnny and helping him stand. He still looks woozy, but she's putting her hand behind his head and... she's kissing him! I've seen plenty of kisses in my time, Jim, and let me tell you... That's a good one!

Suddenly, Johnny appears to be getting stronger, and he's kissing Sadie-Lynn back. He's feeling so good, in fact, that he dips her backward before he breaks the kiss. Now he's jogging onto the field, helmet in hand.

As you can imagine, the Skyhammers went on to win the game with a Cyclone Spiral from 80 yards out to the back of the end zone on the last play of the game.

"That sure was an exciting game this week, Daddy. I think that Sadie-Lynn likes Johnny Tornado, that's why she kissed him."

My dad smiled down at Nathan.

"Johnny Tornado is lucky to have Sadie-Lynn on his team."

"Just like you've got Margie on your team, Daddy, and Lance has Becky. Lance, have you and Becky ever kissed?"

I suddenly wished that Becky wasn't listening over the video feed.

"Not yet, but I hope we will soon."

"Do you think I'll ever get to kiss a girl?"

******

That week's broadcast was a big hit. People seemed to love the romantic subplot, and Nathan's jerseys were selling like crazy. So much so that the class made a last-minute addition to This Week in the WFA, where Johnny and Sadie-Lynn recreated their on-field kiss. Chip and Traci didn't seem to mind kissing each other at all and insisted that we film the kiss several times to ensure we got it just right.

Becky and I were still working long hours together to develop the storylines for the remaining games and the playoffs. It was Friday night, and we were both feeling tired, so I suggested we take a walk down by the river. It was just before 8 o'clock, and the sun hung low in the sky, brushing the Cedar River with the fingers of its fading light. We walked in companionable silence for a while before Becky reached over and took my arm in hers.

"Did you mean what you said to your brother the other day?"

I had said many things to Nathan, but I knew she could only mean one thing.

"That I was hoping we might kiss?"

She looked over at me and smiled.

"Would you be surprised to hear that I would have given him the same answer?"

At her words, I felt my ears grow warm, then my cheeks, and soon my entire neck flushed as I gazed into Becky's eyes. I reached forward, hesitantly at first, and pulled her lips to mine. As we kissed, it suddenly didn't seem so far-fetched that one kiss from Sadie-Lynn could heal Johnny and send him back into the game.

"Becky, that was amazing, I..."

Before I could finish the sentence, my phone rang, and everything came crashing down around me.

CHAPTER 7

Michael Peterson

I sat in the hospital room with Nathan, just holding his hand and watching over him. Over the weekend, he'd survived a massive crash that had nearly cost him his life, so we couldn't postpone the bone marrow transplant any longer. It was our last hope, a silver bullet against the terrible disease that was killing my son.

Becky and Lance had done exhaustive research on the procedure, and I think they knew more about it now than Nathan's oncologist. However, I told them not to share their findings with me. At some point during the crash, I had changed. It's not that I didn't trust the science or was afraid to know Nathan's odds, but I had reached an inflection point from science to faith. From here on out, I was going to rely on the big three--faith, hope, and love.

I had already witnessed so many miracles this year--the money raised for Nathan's transplant, the boom in sales at the dealership, and even Margie coming into my life when I needed her the most. I had faith that one last miracle was left in the tank.

"Hey, Mr. Bossman. How's our little man?"

Margie spoke softly so as not to disturb Nathan's rest. I hadn't heard her come into the room, which wasn't surprising. Since Nathan's crash on Friday night, I felt more and more like I was coming undone, just floating away from this life.

"He looks so small, Margie. So frail. I'd give anything to trade places with him, even for a day--just long enough for him to rest."

She came up beside me and took my hand.

"I know, Honey. And he knows it, too. You're a good father, Michael. Did they tell you what's next?"

"Five days of conditioning. They will pump him full of drugs to eradicate his bone marrow before infusing the new stem cells on Friday afternoon. They say the next five days will make the previous chemotherapy treatments look like a walk in the park.

"Then we wait and pray."

There simply wasn't enough time.

To listen to silly Skyhammers games on the radio.

To hold him.

To tell him that I love him and that everything will be okay.

Lance Peterson

Our media studies class was devastated to hear the news about Nathan. They'd been riding a two-month high on the success of the broadcast, and it all came crashing down. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Mr. Halstead did his best to console the class in their moment of disappointment.

"This isn't the outcome we were all hoping for, but I want to say how proud I am of you all. For over two months, you've pulled together and accomplished something remarkable--you gave some hope back to a young boy running in very short supply.

"Lance, please extend our very best wishes to your family. This must be incredibly hard, but please know we are all pulling for our own Nate the Unstoppable.

"As for the rest of the class, the broadcast has built a big following, and people are invested, so I feel it's our responsibility to finish the season. I know our hearts are heavy, but..."

"Why?"

The class turned to look at Noah Zimmerman.

"Did you have something to share with the class, Mr. Zimmerman?"

Mr. Halstead did not look pleased.

"Why do we have to finish the season? We're not under contract. This whole season is made up. So why do we need to finish it?"

Mr. Halstead let out a weary sigh.

"I understand what you're trying to say, Mr. Zimmerman, but we've set an expectation with our listeners who..."

"I'm not sure that you do understand, sir."

That was Esme Delgado, now standing on the other side of the class. I didn't think she'd said a single word during the class project, but she'd been a superstar behind the scenes.

"Who says we can't end the season right now? This week? With a winner-take-all playoff game."

Esme and Noah started looking excited, and their enthusiasm was infectious.

"Lance, when did you say your brother is getting his transplant?"

"Friday afternoon, assuming everything goes well in the lead-up."

Becky was starting to understand what Esme and Noah were suggesting, and she stood up and moved over to the whiteboard. Mr. Halstead took two steps back, allowing Becky, Esme, and Noah to take the lead.

'Okay, so let's build our storyboard. I'll start. It looks like Barty and Morgana have won the day. How? Why? They went to the league commissioner, who agreed to move the team this Friday and not let them finish the season. So, Barty and Morgana show up at the next Skyhammers practice and do a little victory dance."

Noah and Esme nodded their heads enthusiastically.

"Nate is listening in from the sidelines, and he's devastated. But then he gets an idea. He sneaks up to Barty and 'borrows' his phone, which he uses to call Andre Rattington and Ivan Vlad of the Charleston Blackcoats, who are still smarting from losing the 'Gridiron Gods' Championship Belt. Nate tells them that the only chance they'll have to win the belt back is to play the Skyhammers in a one-game, winner-take-all playoff on Thursday in Cedar Rapids."

Esme and Noah were so excited that they felt almost giddy, but Mr. Halstead brought them back to earth.

"I like the idea, but we'll have less than 48 hours to write, record, and produce the big game. It'll mean a lot of hours and late nights. I can't ask the class to do this, but I'll work alongside anyone who volunteers.

"Who wants to help give Nathan one last shot of hope before his transplant?"

Everyone in the class raised their hand. Mr. Halstead looked as proud as a parent watching their kid win "Best Pie" at the county fair.

"Now that's what I like to see. Let's get to it."

******

The rest of the week was a whirlwind of activity. We didn't have time to write and record a full game script, so Becky and I improvised our lines where we could, relying on the rapport we'd built over the past two months.

Nathan was in protective isolation at the hospital while he underwent conditioning therapy in preparation for his transplant. He was going through an intense five-day course of chemotherapy to eradicate his existing bone marrow, and he was a mess. He lost the remainder of his hair overnight and developed large sores in his mouth. He could barely keep any food down, and whatever food he managed to eat made a rapid and unpleasant exit.

Dad was allowed to visit Nathan but had to wear a mask, special gloves, and a gown. I was permitted to see him in person earlier in the week, but by mid-week, I could only interact through video calls.

By Wednesday, the chemo had started to hit hard--Nathan was too tired to sit up. The nurses kept calling Friday 'Day Zero,' as if it were something to look forward to. But it felt like we were driving towards the edge of a cliff without brakes or seatbelts. I looked down at him through the viewing window and felt my heart shatter, but I knew I had to stay strong.

"I've got some news I think you'll want to hear."

The only indication that Nathan heard me was when his eyes tracked to where I was standing behind the glass. But when I told him about the playoff on Thursday, his eyes lit up, and I could swear a bit of color returned to his cheeks.

"We'll all be with you here tomorrow to listen to the big game. We'll bring Kernel and your lucky jersey, and hang them in the window so you can see them. What do you think?"

Nathan didn't have the energy for much, but he gave me a feeble thumbs-up, and that was everything.

******

The next afternoon, we all gathered at the hospital to listen to the final broadcast with Nathan. My dad was in the room with him, holding his hand while the rest of us connected via video link from the observation room. Becky and Margie made a large Skyhammers banner, which hung at the top of the observation window alongside his lucky jersey and Kernel.

To my surprise, Becky's father and his new girlfriend, Amanda, came to listen to the game with us. Amanda mentioned that she was planning to write a follow-up piece on Nathan and the Skyhammers' magical fourth season, but I think she just wanted to show her support in any way she could. Our whole class was also listening in, although their connection was muted. They had been with us since the beginning of this journey, and I thought they deserved to be there at the end.

We all got quiet as the broadcast began.

Welcome, WFA fans, to this special broadcast. Today's game is a winner-take-all playoff between our hometown heroes, the Skyhammers, and their archrivals, the Charleston Blackcoats. The presenting sponsor for today's game is Peterson's Used Cars & Trucks, with a special shout-out to our superfan, Nathan Peterson, who has a big day tomorrow. Nathan, best of luck from the entire broadcast crew and all our fans at home and in the stadium today. We're pulling for you!

Alyssa, what can we expect from today's game?

Thanks for asking, Jim. The dreaded Andre Rattington still coaches the Charleston Blackcoats, and their quarterback, Ivan Vlad "the Impaler," is looking for payback against Johnny Tornado and the rest of the Skyhammers for that embarrassing loss in the season's opening game. The Blackcoats are an excellent team, and the Skyhammers will have their hands full today. In terms of strategy, I expect...

Sorry for interrupting, Alyssa, but look at what's happening on the field!

I don't think I've ever seen anything like this, Jim. Johnny Tornado is walking out to the center of the field with Sadie-Lynn Hart at his side. The stadium is so quiet that you can hear a pin drop. Sadie-Lynn is helping him unbuckle the 'Gridiron Gods' Championship Belt, and he's reverently laying it down on the grass in front of them. We all know how much that belt means to Johnny.

It seems he has dropped to one knee, Alyssa. I believe he's saying a prayer and looking up to the heavens for strength and guidance. It feels like Christmas Eve service in church, when the candles are lit and you're just waiting for the first hymn to begin. I'm a grown man, Alyssa, but I think I might weep.

Stay strong, Jim; you know it's what Johnny Tornado would want. Johnny looks at the sidelines and points to Nate the Unstoppable. He's been a big part of the Skyhammers' success this season, and Johnny wants him to know how much he's loved.

We aren't expecting any sideline antics today, Alyssa, just hard-fought football. I think it's time to get this game started.

******

We scripted a tight back-and-forth game, but we wanted the ending to be one for the ages. Given how Nathan lived and died with his team, I wondered whether we had made things too dramatic. It was too late to change the script now; all we could do was listen and watch as Nathan took in the Skyhammers' last stand.

Well, Jim, it's been a hard-fought game, but it seems the Skyhammers will fall short in the end. It's third and long; they're down 13 with less than a minute remaining. It would take a miracle for them to pull this off.

I don't know, Alyssa, but I think Johnny Tornado may still have some gas left in his tank, and he's not going down without a fight. In fact, it looks like he's warming up for the Cyclone Spiral. That throw has never let him down.

They're lining up, the ball is snapped, and Johnny... what's he doing? This is INSANE! He faked the Cyclone Spiral and is off and running down the sideline. He makes the first defender miss, and then the second! The third defender has him dead to rights, but wait... what did he do? That magnificent bastard just did a spinning backflip over the third defender, and he's into the end zone for the touchdown!

Language, Jim, language! This is a family broadcast!

Sorry, Alyssa. The Blackcoats are still up by six, and there are only 27 seconds left in the game. Oh, no! I just looked down to the sideline and saw who managed to slither into the stadium--Barty Hogsquat and Morgana Loveless. The crowd's spotted them and has started to boo, but Barty is just smiling and waving his arms in the air, telling the crowd to bring it, while Morgana has a smirk on her reptilian face.

I'd like to wipe that smirk right off her...

Language, Alyssa, language! This is a family broadcast!

Sorry, Jim. What do you think's happening on the sidelines? Nate the Unstoppable was speaking with Johnny, and now it looks like he's warming up for the Cyclone Spiral, but is he using his legs? Does the Cyclone Spiral even work with his legs?

Well, it looks like we're about to find out, Alyssa, as Johnny is going onto the field with the onside kick recovery team. I certainly hope he knows what he's doing. The onside kick is up, and there's a scramble... the ball is in the air... and Johnny is soaring over the other players like a majestic Eastern Goldfinch.

Is the Eastern Goldfinch majestic, Jim?

It is today, Alyssa. It is today. The Skyhammers have the ball with enough time to run one final play. We all know what's coming now... if ever there was a time for the Cyclone Spiral, this is it. The ball is snapped, Johnny drops back and throws the Cyclone Spiral; it's up... up... and in the end zone, and... it's dropped! Oh no! Blackcoats win, and the Skyhammers lose. Barty and Morgana are celebrating on the sidelines as Barty moons the crowd.

This is one of the most disappointing situations... but look, Jim, Nate the Unstoppable has run onto the field and is talking to the refs. They seem to be counting players, and it looks like the Blackcoats had 12 players on the field. Did they think we were playing up in Canada? Since the game can't end on a penalty, the Skyhammers will get one more play.

Do you think Johnny will throw the Cyclone Spiral again, Alyssa, or will he try something else?

As my grandpa used to say, Jim, I think he'd better dance with the one that brung him. They're lining up again, and Johnny points at Nate the Unstoppable on the sidelines. This one's for you, little buddy. The ball is snapped. Johnny drops back and surveys the field. He pump fakes, then unleashes the Cyclone Spiral. The ball is up... there must be a dozen players in the end zone... the ball is dropping from the sky like a... like a... well, like a Skyhammer... it bounces off one defender, then another, and then... IT'S CAUGHT! TOUCHDOWN! SKYHAMMERS WIN THE GAME.

In all my years of broadcasting, I've never seen anything like this, Alyssa. The crowd's going wild! The whole 100 section is mooning Barty and Morgana right back! It's utter madness. Sadie-Lynn is running out onto the field to congratulate Johnny, who's so tired that he kneels when she reaches him. But wait! He isn't kneeling because he's tired; he's kneeling because he's proposing to her! And she said, "Yes!"

What a way to cap off the perfect season.

This is Alyssa and Jim, signing off. Thank you for welcoming us into your homes and hearts. We love you.

******

Friday afternoon arrived all too quickly; it was time for Nathan's stem cell infusion. After I had been thoroughly cleaned and sterilized, I was permitted into the room to be with him. I was so choked up that I could barely speak, but I forced a smile onto my face for Nathan's sake.

"You've got this, big guy."

Nathan offered me a faint smile before he whispered.

"If Johnny Tornado can bring us back from 13 down, I can beat this cancer, too!"

He continued after a brief pause.

"Thank you for making the season happen, Lance. Say thanks to Becky and the class as well. You're the best big brother I could ever have asked for."

I was shocked. How long had Nathan known?

"How did you find out?"

"A man with a camera snuck into my room one night about a month ago and asked me what I thought of my big brother and his class creating an entire fake season of the WFA just for me. I didn't know what he was talking about, and then hospital security took him out of my room and took his camera. But what he said stuck with me, so I asked the nurse about it. She said that you and Becky did it because you love me. I was sad for a few minutes, but then I realized you're more important than any stupid football team."

As Nathan spoke, we began to hear horns honking outside. I helped Nathan sit up so he could see, and there was a long line of cars and trucks all decked out in the Skyhammers colors. It was a victory parade. Johnny Tornado and Sadie-Lynn Hart, or Chip Washington and Traci Taylor, were riding in a convertible Cadillac in the middle of the parade.

My dad entered the room while we watched the parade.

"Johnny and Sadie-Lynn wanted you to have something to remember this season, Nathan. Look in the window."

We turned to the observation window where Becky and Margie held the 'Gridiron Gods' Championship Belt.

"You earned it, Buddy. Now let's go kick this cancer's butt."

EPILOGUE

Good afternoon from historic Kinnick Stadium in Iowa City, where the leaves are turning, the breeze is cool, and Hawkeyes fans are basking in the glow of their team's undefeated season. It's mid-October in the heartland; the air is crisp and clear, and the Hawk fans are out in full force. Over 70,000 fans have packed the stands, with black and gold stretching as far as the eye can see. I swear I can smell the Black and Gold Grill Brigade from here in the booth.

You give me a brat, a beer, and a fourth-quarter lead, and I'll give you the perfect Iowa Saturday.

Every day is special here in Kinnick Stadium, but today is particularly special because we're raising money for the Nathan Peterson Trust, which supports kids battling childhood cancer. I'm sure you've all heard of the Iowa Wave. At the end of the first quarter, the entire stadium will wave to the children in the Stead Family Children's Hospital. Following the wave, we invite you all to take a moment to contribute to this worthy cause. Let's show the kids in that hospital how strong this Hawkeyes family is.

Chip Washington is doing his part by donating $250,000 to the trust from his signing bonus as part of his historic new contract with the first-place team in Chicago. I'm not sure what's more surprising at this point: Chip Washington coming out of nowhere to become a top-five quarterback, or the team in Chicago being in first place in the conference this late in the season. And don't kid yourself; there's no way that the second happens without the first.

Chip can't be here today since he's getting ready for his game tomorrow, but his lovely wife, Traci, is in town to present the cheque on their behalf. Chip and Traci are Iowans through and through, and we couldn't be prouder of what they've accomplished.

If Chip ever comes home to play before he retires, he'll always be welcome on our Iowa Skyhammers. All it took was a fake season of football put together by high schoolers to convince the powers-that-be to relaunch the WFA. Of course, they had to tone it down a bit; there haven't been any more cage matches with polar bears since that lost season, but the crazy storylines continue to be as popular as the games themselves!

Speaking of that lost season, Nathan's brother, Lance, one of the driving forces behind the broadcast, is working the sidelines today as part of our crew. His career may have started with that viral broadcast, but it's just taken off from there.

Lance's wife, Becky, is in the stands with their little girl, Daphne, named after Becky's mother, who passed away from cancer when Becky was still a little girl. Becky is in her second year at our very own College of Law, and to hear Lance talk, she's more than halfway to becoming the first Supreme Court Justice from Iowa since Samuel Freeman Miller.

And if you look toward the north end zone, you'll see Nathan Peterson himself, along with his father, Michael, his mother, Margie, and his baby sister, Elizabeth. They'll enjoy the game from our VIP section after watching Nathan play with the Cedar Rapids Youth League All-Stars earlier today. Six years ago, he was in the fight of his life against cancer, and today, he's here helping to kick our Iowa City Youth League All-Stars' butts.

I guess that's why they call him Nate the Unstoppable!

As always, thank you for reading. Please feel free to leave a rating or comment if you're so inclined. Note that the Iowa Wave is real, and it's awesome! Also, as a Canadian, I feel I can safely indulge in some self-deprecating humor, but rest assured that no Canadians were harmed in the making of this story.

Cheers,

CGN