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SUPER BOWL SUNDAY—NEW ORLEANS

W est Sutherland opened his eyes after the best night of sleep he’d had in months. No, years. Today, his Dallas Cowboys would play the Las Vegas Raiders for the Lombardi Trophy.

And he was going to retire after the game.

He was wrapping up ten seasons in the NFL, where he’d been All-Pro seven of those years.

Last year, he had missed the final two regular season games and one playoff game, and the Cowboys had badly missed his contributions.

He’d suffered an ACL injury during a catch at the two-yard-line.

The infamous popping noise and sensation had been instant the moment he hit the ground.

Still, West had made certain his body fell over the goal line, ensuring his team won the game, which had gone into overtime. His reception iced their victory.

Thankfully, the MRI showed only a sprain of his anterior cruciate ligament, which crossed the middle of his knee, and not a more serious tear.

He couldn’t put any weight on it, though, and had been carted off as Dallas fans cheered loudly, chanting his name.

By the time he reached the locker room, the painful, rapid swelling frightened him.

West had lived a charmed life on the football field, only suffering minor injuries since his days of playing Pop Warner football.

A few sprained ankles. A dislocated shoulder, which still popped out on occasion. A couple of broken fingers.

While his injury had not required surgery, he still put in the hours of rehab necessary to come back and play this year.

The exercises had helped him regain strength as well as stability in his knee.

The loss of range of motion, coupled with the feeling of instability—as if his knee would buckle—was what the physical exercises dealt with.

Tougher than the rehabbing process was the mental stress.

Although his body felt fine, his mind still told him it could happen again, this time leading to a tear and surgery.

Because he was so shaky mentally, he’d started seeing a therapist, something he’d scoffed at before.

But Dr. Linda really listened. She challenged him.

Not just about the injury, but about what he would be doing after football, something West hadn’t put a lot of thought into.

Dr. Linda walked him through all kinds of scenarios—ways he could suffer another ACL, especially because he’d hurt his knee once already—and it was more likely to happen again now that he was vulnerable.

He mentally walked through pivoting when his foot was planted firmly on the turf.

Going up for a ball and landing awkwardly after the leap.

Or the worst—being victim to a direct blow to his knee from behind by one of those gnarly linebackers or defensive backs who seemed to have no fear as they flew across the field at breakneck speed, ready to bring down a receiver.

West had an in-person session with his therapist every day leading up to last summer’s training camp, fighting through his fears.

Then he’d scheduled FaceTime therapy with Dr. Linda during camp and hadn’t missed a day.

All their conversations had led him to the decision that he was ready to walk away from football after tonight’s game.

He showered and shaved, dressing in a crisp, white dress shirt and gray suit. No tie. His cell rang, and he answered it, grinning at his therapist’s image.

“Right on time, Doc,” he said, sitting on the bed and bracing his back against the headboard.

“Have you made your decision?” she asked, concern in her deep, brown eyes.

“Yes, ma’am. Tonight is my last game.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “Tell me why. Walk me through it, West.”

Gathering his thoughts before he spoke, he finally said, “It’s not fun anymore. Actually, I was feeling this all during last season. I’d always told myself when I wasn’t having fun, I would walk away.”

“Do you think your injury last year has contributed to your decision?” she pressed.

“Yes and no. I still worry when I go out on the field about getting hurt again. Once I’m out there, playing, caught up in the game, that worry goes away. I don’t think I’ve been tentative on a single play. But leading up to games and making myself hit the field has been brutal.”

He paused. “But it’s more than that. I’ve accomplished every goal I set out to do, at every level I’ve played at.

I’ve been the Golden Boy my whole life, Doc.

All-State in high school. All-American in college, winning a national championship.

Then All-Pro, with two Super Bowl rings, and the chance at another one tonight.

I’ve always studied the playbook hard. Been a great teammate. Even a leader.”

“Yes, being named captain this year in your comeback was quite an honor,” she noted.

“I agree. But this whole year, even though I’ve put forth my best effort, the joy has been missing. I used to play with such abandon. Let’s face it. I’ve been fearless on and off the field my entire life. Never backed down from a challenge. But you’ve got me thinking about life after football.”

He chuckled. “I've spent a lot of hours on that topic, and you know what? I’m at peace. I’ve had a great career, but it’s time to be an adult. Move on.”

“To what?”

West grinned. “You never let up, Doc. I like that about you. You’re like a female version of me.”

Dr. Linda laughed. “Yes, at five-two and just over a hundred pounds, I’m exactly like you, West.”

“You know what I mean. You’re relentless. Like a dog with a bone.” He paused. “I want to coach.”

Her expression turned curious. “At what level?”

“Definitely not pro. Not even college. The NFL is a business. That’s how most players approach it, and they should.

College has become more like a business, with NIL changing the financial landscape.

What I want is that sheer happiness and love a player feels for the game.

I want to go back to coach high school. And not just any high school. ”

“You want to go home to Hawthorne,” she stated.

“Yes. I want to teach, really teach the game. Get kids to understand it. Like it. Find the pleasure in playing it.” West cleared his throat. “And I want a family.”

Her eyes widened. “A family?”

He grinned. “I know. Coming from me that’s saying a lot.

I’ve dated famous women. Beautiful women.

Famous and beautiful women. But it was all shallow.

Pretty much all for show. I’ve never let my guard down around a woman or ever had a serious relationship.

” Determination filled him. “It’s about time I did. ”

“What kind of family do you envision, West?”

“Like the one I came from. Where I have a wife I love more than football. A couple of kids I’m crazy about.”

“Will you push a future son into football?”

“No,” he said honestly. “You’ve taught me enough to know that people have to follow their heart.

If my kid likes basketball or baseball—hell, if he doesn’t even want to play sports and do marching band or drama instead—that’s fine with me.

I’ve come to understand that football isn’t the be-all, end-all in life.

” He smiled. “You’ve done some good work on me, Doc.

The West Sutherland from a year ago would have thought West 2.

0 here was bat-shit crazy. But I’m not. I want a relationship that can lead to marriage.

I want kids. I want them to be raised in a small town and have good values. ”

“Is this football coaching position even open in Hawthorne?” she asked.

“Not the head coaching job. And I wouldn’t ask for it anyway.

I need the seasoning. Besides, my high school coach still holds the job, and he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

It would be a privilege to work under Coach Markham.

Frankly, I learned more from him than any other coach I’ve ever had.

I still think Coach M has things to teach me. ”

Dr. Linda nodded approvingly. “You seem to have your head on straight, West. That’s a good thing. I don’t think we should quit cold turkey, however. Transitioning from a life in the NFL to being a regular guy—wherever you land—will be tough.”

“I get there’ll be roadblocks, Doc. The work we’ve put in together has prepared me for them. I agree that we need to continue our sessions. Maybe once a week?”

“I know the next couple of weeks will be crazy for you. Call my assistant for an appointment to FaceTime our sessions. Then once we’ve spoken, if you feel as if you have a good handle on things, maybe we can go to once a week.”

“Sounds like a plan.” West hesitated. “Thanks again for taking me on as a patient. I know I wasn’t quite into the idea of therapy when we started, but I am stronger mentally because of it.” He smiled at her. “And proud of that mental health, too.”

She beamed at him. “Go play the best game of your life, West.”

Dr. Linda pulled the phone away from her, so that he saw not only her face—but what she was wearing.

A Green Bay Packers sweatshirt.

He burst out laughing.

“I neglected to tell you I’m a Packers fan. My dad was from the Midwest, and he worshipped the Pack. Passed along his love of the team to my brother and me.” She grinned. “But I really do hope you play a wonderful game tonight.”

“Gig ’em,” he said, hearing her echo the same thing as he ended the connection.

At least Dr. Linda was an Aggie. He supposed he’d have to forgive her for the rest.