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I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this excited about the start of a season.

I’ve never felt this ready , either.

I have every reason to be down where my career is concerned given the fact that I missed the first three games, but I’m having a hard time being upset about anything at all when there’s so much good happening right now.

The Aces are three for three without me, a stark reminder that the game goes on with or without me. And that’s okay. That’s as it should be. We should have built a team that doesn’t rely solely on one player or one position.

Still, with my talents, I’m hopeful we can make it four for four. Five for five. And all the way down the line until we win the championship game at the end.

I’m up before everyone else. How can I sleep when it’s my first day back at the Complex?

I set the wrapped boxes on the kitchen table before my girls get up, one labeled Harps and the other Harts, the conversation we had yesterday about changing Harper’s last name still fresh in my mind.

I wasn’t sure how to customize the gift for Harper. Randall? Woods? Neither?

I’m happy with what I settled on.

I head back upstairs to get ready to head out for the day. I won’t be back until late, and as much as I’ll miss the dynamic we’ve formed here, it’ll give us something to look forward to in the off-season as I get back to what I was born to do for the next few months.

It used to be that the field was the only place I ever really felt like myself. But that’s not true anymore. I feel like myself when I’m with Harper. I feel like myself when I’m with Victoria.

They love me unconditionally, somehow, someway, and I count myself the luckiest man in the world because of it.

I just need breakfast before I head out, and I stop by the bed to kiss my wife…but it’s empty.

I head down to the kitchen, and I find my girls waiting for me.

They’re both holding big posters they decorated themselves.

The one Harper holds says, Good Luck Dad!

The one Hartley holds says, Go #81!

Both are full of glitter and decorated in red and black…the Aces colors.

My heart feels so damn full as I grin at the two of them. Victoria points to the bottom corner of her poster, and I spot the letters DILF. They’re small enough that Harper probably didn’t notice them, and I can’t help my laugh.

“What’s in the box?” Harper squeals, jumping up and down in her pajamas.

I chuckle. “Open it up and find out.”

They rip off the paper at the same time, and I watch as they both open the boxes.

Harper pulls it out and gasps. A hot pink jersey with my number on it, blinged out with sparkly shit from the place Ellie told me about, and Harps on the back.

Victoria goes at the same time, a few paces behind, and she has a similar reaction when she finds her matching jersey with Harts on the back.

“I’ll get you a Woods one next time,” I say to Victoria with a wink.

“Oh, I want a Woods one too!” Harper says. “Please please please?”

“Because it’s my last name?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Because it should be mine, too.”

I grab her into my arms as Victoria puts her arms around me, too, and we hold each other in a family hug.

My heart squeezes and my chest practically bursts with love.

It doesn’t get any better than this.

Except somehow, inexplicably…it does.

When Sunday rolls around, it’s my first game.

I don’t start.

And I don’t care.

I don’t need to start to know I’m a key member of this team, and I prove that in the second quarter when Josh Nolan is gassed and needs a break.

It’s my turn.

I step up.

I step in.

Jack Dalton calls badger , and I picture the small toe on Victoria’s left foot.

I know this play. I know what to do.

I learned it well because the woman I love gave me everything I needed to memorize this new playbook.

And so I haul ass toward the end zone. When I get to where I need to be, I turn around to see the pass Jack fired at me about to drop right into my hands. I grab it out of the air by a narrow margin as the defender on me catches up, and I run it into the end zone to the sound of the sold-out stadium going absolutely wild.

We’re up sixteen to three and it’s only the second quarter.

My teammates slap me on the back and bump my helmet with theirs. I skip the showboating and instead clamor to get out of the crowd surrounding me so I can get over to the sidelines. I run toward section one-twenty-one, row one, where my girls are sitting just shy of the thirty-yard line on the home team side.

Families are often invited to sit in the owner’s suite, and today was no different. Calvin Bennett offered free food and drink to both Victoria and Harper, but I declined.

This is the first game I’m playing in as a married man. This is the first game I’m playing in as a father.

And I wanted my wife and my daughter close. I wanted them to see all the action on the field, and I wanted to be able to run over to them, fist bump my girl, and kiss my wife.

And that’s exactly what I do.

Harper is screaming in her pink Harps jersey as she leans down and links her arms around my neck, and I pull my helmet off to give Victoria a quick kiss before I run back to the sidelines.

And for the first time in my life, the two people who mean home to me are at the place that’s always felt most like home to me…the football field.

For everything we fought through to get to this place, it feels pretty damn sweet.