England were a point down going into the final minutes, and I could feel the tension pulsing through the crowd. The English fans far outnumbered the Kiwis, and they were doing their best to spur their team on, but the players must have picked up on the apprehension.

Every attack ended with a misplaced pass, but the Kiwis seemed to be just as nervous, kicking the ball clear every time and giving it straight back to the English instead of trying to build possession and run down the clock.

“Stoppage time,” Maisie said. “Next time the ball goes out of play the game’s over.”

England lost the ball, but then an English forward charged it down when a New Zealander went to kick the ball into touch. There was a New Zealand knock-on and England were awarded a scrum.

“That’s too far out,” I said, looking at the distance from where Oliver was standing to the goalposts. The team was planning to get the ball to Oliver as soon as possible for him to attempt a drop goal. The move was identical to the one in 2007, except the kick was further out.

“He’s kicked from there before,” Shaun said. “He usually misses mind you.”

England put the ball into the scrum and the scrum-half stood there waiting for the exact right moment to make the pass.

It was all over in a few seconds. The scrum-half picked up the ball and passed it to Oliver. The ground went silent. In a few moments it would either erupt in a roar of ecstasy or a drown in a groan of despair.

Maisie reached out and grabbed hold of my hand, as we watched Oliver swing his leg back and kick the ball.

Six Months Later

We settled on Southern California. After growing up with a fair share of rain, Oliver and Shaun both wanted to live somewhere that was sunny most of the year round. Ironically, our closest football team was now the San Diego Chargers.

We still had to go back to England for Christmas though. Apparently, Christmas didn’t feel like Christmas without rain and the promise of snow that would never show up. I would never completely understand the English mentality towards weather.

We moved into a house near the waterfront, and Oliver bought a boat even though he had no idea what to do with it. All the neighbors had one, and he didn’t want to feel left out.

After the World Cup, Oliver spent a few weeks participating in the celebrations, like the open-top bus tour where the players paraded the trophy through London, and the visit to Downing Street that gave the Prime Minister a chance to get in on the feeling of euphoria generated by the win.

Everybody wanted to be seen with the trophy, and everyone wanted to be seen with Oliver. Things were crazy, and I couldn’t wait to leave for the US just to escape the madness. But then news of the betting scandal broke, and the craziness went up a level.

Oliver recorded a two-hour long interview that completely explained his part in what happened, going all the way back to 2007. I couldn’t bring myself to watch it, but the consensus was that he had done nothing wrong given the threats to his family, and the involvement of the police.

I suspected that people would be a lot angrier if they weren’t still giddy from the 2015 victory, but either way I was pleased to see that Oliver wasn’t vilified by the public.

Some of the more unsavory members of the press started to follow Shaun around, so we got out of the country soon after the interview became public.

Maisie wanted to live with Oliver and I, but even though her and Shaun were just friends—supposedly—I thought it best she live with Mom for the time being. Maisie kicked up a fuss until she found out that Oliver had bought a place for Mom to live just a ten-minute drive from us.

Maisie’s new school didn’t play rugby, and there was no league for her to play in at weekends, but miraculously a women’s rugby league soon popped up and girls were encouraged to join teams and start playing. The league promoted the game heavily, and it was free to participate. I dreaded to think how much Oliver had spent on the whole thing, but it kept Maisie happy and that was priceless to both of us.

Shaun didn’t need anyone to set up a rugby league. In his new high school, he went to a training session for the football team and was immediately drafted in as a running back. Years of running with the ball in rugby apparently made football seem rather easy in comparison. He barely broke a sweat and often complained that there was far too much sitting around for his liking.

He still had a few years before having to worry about college, but it looked like he would be choosing his future based on the sports program and not the quality of education.

Oliver found the whole “college sports” system strange, but since he’d never even gone to college he wasn’t in much of a position to tell Shaun what he should do. Besides, Shaun was a smart kid, and we trusted him to make the right decision.

I spent a few months enjoying being a lady of leisure, which essentially meant hanging out with Oliver and having sex whenever we felt like it. That often led to somewhat risky outdoor activities; I couldn’t eat lunch at the golf club anymore without getting a lot of dirty looks. We raked the bunker afterwards, so I don’t know why people got so annoyed. Totally worth it though.

Other than helping out with the new women’s rugby league, Oliver had a stab at organizing charity matches. The soccer match Jaxon had organized gave Oliver the idea of staging a similar event mixing up rugby and football.

Oliver found it easy enough to get a team of rugby players willing to come to the US and take on what they described as “soft” football players, but Oliver didn’t have any football contacts to make up the other team.

Jaxon had more influence in the US, so he made a few calls and eventually Oliver had just about enough players to make for a decent off-season exhibition match. The big name quarterbacks were more than enough to guarantee a massive attendance, with all the ticket proceeds going to charity.

Football was far too tactical for rugby players to pick up without any training, so in the end they played with a mixture of rugby and football players on both sides, like the soccer game had been. Rugby forwards made a good fit for the offensive and defensive lines, and the backs could run and catch the ball with ease.

Shaun, Maisie, and I all sat in the stands to watch the game. Oliver played the first half, but at half time he was replaced with the kicker from the New Zealand team England had beaten in the World Cup final. The two of them appeared to be on remarkably good terms, all things considered.

Oliver came out to the pitch at half time to hold a prize drawing for a pair of tickets to the next Super Bowl. Most of the crowd applauded politely when Oliver was announced as a World Cup winner, but you could tell most people didn’t have a clue who he was.

I heard wolf-whistles from the crowd when he walked back onto the pitch in his rugby kit, so a certain section of the audience appreciated him at least.

“I’d love to go to a Super Bowl,” Maisie said. “Shaun, hurry up and get really good at football, and then get me tickets.”

“I’ve only ever watched one Super Bowl,” Shaun said. “And that was last month. I think I’m a long way from playing in one.”

“I doubt you’d like it,” I said to Shaun. “They’re incredibly over-commercialized now. It’s more about sponsors than the game these days.”

“In that case,” Maisie said. “Can I take your tickets?”

“What tickets?”

“You just won,” Maisie said, pointing to the seat number displayed on the large screens around the stadium.

I hadn’t even heard the announcement. I pulled out my ticket to make sure, but Maisie was right. I’d won.