Connor Cunningham, the giant tight end, the strongest man I’d ever met,stumbledas they took him to one of the sideline tents.
“Oh my God, I have to go,” I said, voice tremoring with fear as I jumped to my feet.
“Go where?” my dad said.
“I don’t know, I have to get down there and make sure he’s okay,” I said, ducking under the railing. I just started running down the stadium steps without a plan, my eyes trained on the spot where he was, but I was forced to stop when Carly Coyote, the new mascot, was standing on the stairs dancing, effectively blocking my way.
“Excuse me,” I said, trying to push past her.
Maybe the costume was too thick for her to hear me or she didn’t care what I said, but she just kept dancing.
“Excuse me!” I yelled again, trying to squeeze by.
But she was clearly in the zone, doing a windmill move with her arms, and accidentally smacked me when I tried to pass.
“Excuse me!” I yelled more urgently, still in a panic over Connor, and I gave her a little nudge in an effort to maneuver around her huge, furry body.
But then—oh no. I watched in slow motion as Carly lost her balance and fell down.
Flat on her back.
No freaking way.
“Someone help her up!” I yelled, knowing I should help her, but I didn’t have time.
I needed to reach Connor.
I kept running down toward the field, even though I knew they wouldn’t let me anywhere near the sidelines. I ran and ran, my eyes on that sideline injury tent, my only goal being to get closer to where he was.
When I got to the bottom row, I ran all the way around to the other side. People were in my way and slowing me down, but I wasn’t stopping. I couldn’t. I yelled and pushed past everyone, knowing I was being rude but just needing to get to Connor.
Needing to see if he was okay.
Please be okay.
When I got as close to his sideline as I could, I put my hands around my mouth and tried to get someone’s attention, someone who knew how he was doing.
“Teeders!” I yelled. “Josh Reed!”
I kept saying their names, trying to get them to look my way. I saw people watching me like I was nuts but I didn’t care.
“Connor!” I screamed. “Connor Cunningham!”
I felt somebody grab my arm.
“What?” I snapped, turning around, expecting to see security ready to haul me away.
But it was Erin Andrews.
Holy shit,theErin Andrews. As in, world-famous sports reporter Erin Andrews.
“Aren’t you Duffy Distefano?”
“Y-yes,” I said, my heart still racing as I wondered how it was possible that she knew my name. “Do you know how he’s doing?”
Erin didn’t need to ask who the “he” was that I was referring to. “As far as I know, they’re checking him over to make sure he’s okay, but the guess is that he’ll be back out there for the next drive.”
“Oh, thank God,” I said, almost light-headed with relief.