Buck, the epitome of calm.
Having endured the test of a game-deciding kick in the previous playoff, he had finally realized that he cherished those moments—the tension at its peak, the taste of blood in his mouth, the heart nearly bursting. The more dire the situation, the more intense the nerves, the more exhilarating he felt, as if he could hear the sound of adrenaline burning.
It was the same now.
Unlike the harsh weather at Gillette Stadium in Foxborough, the conditions at Perpetual Bank Center could truly be called calm and bright, with almost no impact from the wind direction.
This was a good thing.
The entire stadium roared, but Buck remained unaffected, raising his hand to signal, his eyes fixed on the football thrown by the center, using the beating of his heart to feel the rhythm.
And then.
A running start, the kick, the release of power.
Ah, ah, aah!
