Macey
There was something completely different about watching Mikey play now that I understood what I was actually looking at.
For most of my life, football had been part of the background. My father owned a team. Sundays meant luxury suites, sponsors, catered food, and people discussing contracts or television rights while a game happened somewhere below us. I knew the rules. I knew enough not to embarrass myself. But like most people, I followed the ball. Liam took the snap, the receiver ran the route, the running back hit the hole, and that was where everyone looked.
Mikey had taught me to watch everything that had to happen before any of that worked.
So now, sitting beside Olivia in the stands in Cincinnati, I found myself watching the offensive line more than I watched the scorebo
