Chapter 13

He visited Dave at Memorial Sloan Kettering, where he was undergoing tests.

“I’m scared, real scared,” Dave said, tenting his eyes with one arm to hide his tears.

Quinn was scared, too. Should he pat that arm, or would that be too intimate? Oh, hell. He squeezed Dave’s forearm.

“Pray,” Quinn said, “and I’ll pray for you. The whole team will.”

Quinn organized his teammates around Dave’s illness. They wore his number, 35, on their sleeves and flashed it—three fingers then five—whenever they got on the tube. They donated $10,000 to the American Cancer Society for every touchdown they scored. They sent him cards, flowers, and teddy bears and rotated visits among themselves and their families—reminders that even on the road, they had him on their radar. The effect was twofold: It buoyed Dave and it made the team at once looser and more cohesive, putting its Bounty-full situation in perspective.