Chapter 27

A week later I packed up the things I'd already purchased for Bailey's family and mailed them to her house. I hadn't heard from the Stenstroms since the break up. I remember how Kelly's mom had showed up at the apartment. Still, I wasn't surprised when Judy called two days before Christmas.

"I apologize for not calling sooner, R.J.," she said. "I was unaware of things until the last part of your note. I've asked Bailey several times when you were coming up, but she always avoided an answer. I thought it was because of your injury and the upcoming game. I know now it wasn't."

My note in the gifts said I'd sent a locket I'd purchased for Bailey. It didn't carry the same sentiment as when I bought it, but I'd seen her admire it. If she didn't want it, I hoped she would donate it to someone who might.

It was a golf club with a diamond as the ball. It was cute, and when I bought it, I thought Bailey would like it.

"I gave her the gift," Judy said. "She loved it. Jack and I also really like what you got for us. I don't know how you knew I was missing thimbles from Georgia and South Carolina, but it was really sweet of you. And Jack couldn't believe you got him a tie tack. Every time he wears a tie he complains he doesn't have one. It was incredibly thoughtful of you."

I told her none of this was their fault.

"I still adore you both," I said. "What's happened between Bailey and me is our fault."

She said she wasn't sure of the particulars, but it sounded bad.

"When I asked Bailey what happened, she just screamed at me. She yelled, 'I fucked up, Mom. OK. I fucked up and now there's nothing I can do.' Is that really true?"

I told her I don't necessarily believe she'd made a mistake, but I didn't see how it could be changed.

"Somehow I gave her the impression I wanted to control her life, I guess," I told Judy. "I'm not really sure of what Bailey was thinking, because she didn't tell me, and I didn't notice anything was wrong. If two people are unwilling and unable to communicate, I don't think there's anything that can be done. I know I wouldn't be willing to try if it could be done."

Judy sighed.

"I don't want to tell you what to think," she said. "I heard you've been cleared to play in the title game, so I assume your memory is OK."

I told her it was fine.

"Then I want you to remember a couple of things for me," she said. "I'm not telling how to feel about them. I just want to make sure you remember them.

"You're Bailey's first boyfriend. She didn't get the chance to learn about breaking hearts. She thought you'd get together and talk in a week or so and get back together.

"If you think back to when you first started dating, how many times did you see people break up with someone then get back together before lunch? I'm not excusing what she did, how she did it, and when she did it.

"But I think breaking up was her way of trying to alert you that something was wrong. Because she fell so hard, so quickly, with her first boyfriend, she had no experience to fall back on. She didn't know how to talk to you. I'm sure you used your break ups as lessons. In fact, we've talked about a couple, so I'm sure you have.

"I don't think the lessons you took from them are necessarily the right ones, but that's not my place. In a few weeks, when you're both back in Lexington and have a little perspective, I hope you'll talk to her. I'm not asking you to get back together. I hope you will, but I'm not asking that. Just keep an open mind for me."

I told her that wasn't too much to ask, but I couldn't promise anything.

"The last few years of my life have been about losing things I care about," I said. "I don't want you to think I don't care about Bailey, I do. But I'm the only one who seems to take care of me, and every time I let my guard down, it ends up like this. Ask Bailey to give me a call next month. I can't guarantee I'll talk to her but I'll at least tell her why I won't."

It had taken me a while to realize it but we'd won the SEC championship game — thanks to Tom leading us on a clock-killing drive that didn't give Ole Miss the ball back after my interception was run back for a touchdown — and we were off to Tempe, Ariz., for the Fiesta Bowl to play USC for the national championship.

Strangely, I wasn't the least bit excited. Tom had started and won the Tennessee game and had come in for me after my injury to lead a late touchdown drive to seal the SEC title. We had taken 10 days off practice, but I'd spent another week standing around watching Tom lead the first-team offense. After the Bailey thing, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop — Tom replacing me at quarterback.

The shoe never fell.

I was runner-up in the Heisman balloting and had won the Davey O'Brien Award as the nation's top quarterback and the Maxwell Trophy as the most valuable player.

The awards had been presented while I was unconscious in a Georgia hospital, and Tom had flown to New York immediately after the game to accept for me.

The Fergusons were coming to Tempe with me — Mack and Ellie would never miss UK in a title game, and Beth would never miss a chance to check out a new shopping area — so I sent the remaining three comp tickets to my Georgia doctor.

She called me and told me she wouldn't miss the chance to see a title game for the world.

"But just to let you know, I'm a die-hard Georgia Tech fan, so don't think you can buy my loyalties," she joked.

I told her she'd better use the tickets as payment for services rendered because the Commonwealth of Kentucky was notoriously slow in paying its bills.

The Fergusons had been steamed over the Bailey situation for a month, and I was damned glad to get away, but other than that, I had no interest in the game.

I mean none.

I participated in everything I was supposed to, but I didn't enjoy it. This was the biggest game on the biggest stage in college football, and I would rather have been at home watching it on TV.

Many columnists and commentators pondered openly if my head injury was more severe than anyone let on because of the way my personality had changed.

"I've known this young man since he came to Kentucky," one wrote. "He was always quick with a joke and a smile. I don't know if I've seen him smile this entire week. This might be the biggest game in UK football history, but if there is any risk of further damage to this young man, I don't think any sane person would allow him to play."

There was no risk of any damage, but it was convenient that I could blame my mood swings on something.

The game, at least for me, was no different than the SEC championship. I simply didn't feel any excitement about being there. I wanted to be excited and I wanted to win. But that was it.

The game was close throughout. We trailed, for only the second time all season, when we started a drive midway through the fourth quarter. We got to USC's six yard line before we bogged down. I threw two straight incompletions before Coach Brown called for the Big Bang. It was the only one of Sara's plays we hadn't run all season, and the only one that didn't have me throw a pass.

It was the perfect play because everyone in the stadium knew a pass was coming. They just didn't know I'd be receiving it instead of throwing it. The halfback's pass was a little low but I made a pretty nice grab on it, if I do say so myself, and just like that we were up a point. A two-point conversion pass gave us a three-point lead with less than two minutes to play.

Tom grabbed me after as I came to the sideline and we completed our ritual for the last time. He had 10 sheets of paper and the whole offense gathered around a TV camera to hold up signs as we had every time we'd run one Sara's plays.

We waited until USC's fourth-down pass fell incomplete before we held up the final four signs. It was the only time I smiled all game.

When I took a knee to end the game all the players rushed on to the field. I didn't feel much like celebrating, so I walked to the locker room alone.

It was so hectic that no one missed me until I was announced as the game's MVP. Tom jumped up on the podium and accepted the award as he had in New York City a month before.

"I'm getting pretty good at accepting things for R.J.," he said as everyone laughed. "So I'll try to say what he'd say. He'd tell you this is a team award and we all earned it together. Now I'm going to tell you the truth. Everyone on this field knows it. Every coach, every player, and every fan knows it. There is no way in hell we'd be accepting a national championship trophy without R.J. Hartley. He's the reason we're here and he deserves the MVP award more than anybody in the history of this game. But I want everyone to know if I have to go to accept his Heisman Trophy next December I'm keeping it."

Tom jumped off the stage and hustled into the locker room. I was sitting there with my head in my hands. I guess he misread the signs. I was tired and I was sad, but I wasn't hurt.