“If you need—” Lo’s voice is cut short as we both shoot to our feet. No…no fucking way. Our defense (never said a bad word about ‘em) just grabbed the ball after a fumble. Ten seconds left on the clock. He runs. He runs farther. And farther. He makes it to the endzone. A pick 6. A pick fucking 6! Lo cheers, and we’re somehow hugging. I’m screaming so hard my lungs hurt. I can’t believe it. The Eagles win the Super Bowl.
