Page 154 of The Goat in the Bedroom
“Your family is insane,” Madison observed.
“Yeah,” I grinned. “They're perfect.”
The match was brutal from the first whistle. New Zealand came out aggressive, their haka before the game setting the tone. But we'd trained for this. We were ready.
First half, we traded scores. Their speed against our power. My lungs burned as I drove forward in scrums, my legs screamed during rucks, but I could hear the crowd, could feel the energy.
“USA! USA! USA!”
At halftime, we were tied 14-14.
“They're targeting the wings,” I told the team. “They think we're weak there. Let them. When they overcommit, we go up the middle.”
“Through you?” Coach asked.
“Through all of us. But yeah, I'll take the hit.”
The second half was the longest twenty minutes of my life. New Zealand scored first, the crowd going quiet. Then we answered. Back and forth, neither team giving an inch.
With three minutes left, we were down 24-21. We had possession, but we were sixty meters from their try line.
“Framework Seven,” I called the play. “And when it breaks down, give me the damn ball.”
What happened next was the kind of thing they'd probably replay forever. The planned play fell apart immediately, but muscle memory and trust took over. Madison hit me with a pass just as two defenders converged. I spun out of one tackle, handed off another, and suddenly I had space.
Forty meters. Thirty. Twenty.
I could hear Gryff's voice somehow cutting through eighty-thousand others: “RUN, ARTIE!”
Ten meters. Five.
The fullback hit me at the two-meter line, but momentum carried us both over. I slammed the ball down just inside the touchline.
Try.
The stadium exploded. My teammates piled on top of me. The conversion would put us up by two with thirty seconds left.
Madison nailed it.
New Zealand had one last chance, but our defense held. When the final whistle blew, I fell to my knees.
Olympic champions.
The medal ceremony was a blur. The national anthem played, and I was definitely not crying except I absolutely was. On the podium, gold around my neck, I found my family in the crowd. Gryff was crying too, not even trying to hide it.
Later, after media obligations and drug tests and approximately one million photos, we finally made it home for the real celebration.
“Surprise.”
Our backyard was packed. The entire Kingman family, my rugby team, Gryff's teammates who weren't traveling, Sean and Ren, our neighbors, everyone.
But the best surprise was in the goat pen.
“Babies!” I gasped.
Vincent and Holly were there with three tiny kids between them. The babies were a hilarious mix of Vincent's spots and Holly's solid coloring, each one more ridiculous than the last.
“When did this happen?” I asked Gryff.
