Without a Word: How a Boy’s Unspoken Love Changed Everything Page 2

  “You’re the best, Jimbo!” one man hollered.

  “We’ll miss you, Jim!” another shouted.

  When the crowd of adoring enthusiasts finally quieted, we all listened intently as team owner Ralph Wilson and head coach Marv Levy made their opening remarks. Each talked about Jim’s many accomplishments and expressed gratitude for the man who wore number 12. The heart and soul of the Buffalo Bills football team, my husband, Jim, was retiring. It just didn’t seem real.

  Especially since we knew Jim could still play and win. He was as tough, driven, and passionate as ever. Both Dan Marino and John Elway—Jim’s fellow members of the NFL draft class of 1983—were still suiting up for their respective teams. But Bills management had determined that it was time for new direction at the quarterback position. Believing the franchise needed some younger blood, the Bills dynasty had regrouped and was looking for someone fresh to take the snaps. A new hero.

  In his eleven seasons with the team, Jim had been that hero. He’d put Buffalo on the NFL map and brought life to the city and its thousands of fans with his gritty performances each Sunday. He had also grown to love Western New York and its people. So while other teams had expressed interest in Jim once the Bills had announced their decision, Jim wasn’t about to pour his life into a new offense no matter how much they would pay him. His heart was sold out to Buffalo; no other team would do. And though it hurt deeply, Jim accepted the front office’s decision with the same class, grace, and toughness that had characterized his career.

  What would the Bills do now? I wondered. What would the city of Buffalo do? What would Jim do? With so many questions running through my mind, I could only imagine what was going through Jim’s.

  As he began his retirement speech, the strain and the difficulty of stepping away was written all over his face. Nevertheless, Jim delivered his farewell with poise, though choked with emotion at times.

  “This is going to be tough,” he began, “and I thought saying my wedding vows was tough.” Jim laughed as he glanced over at me. In that moment, I thought back to our wedding day and how emotional Jim was when he said his vows. He had indeed struggled to hold back tears during our ceremony, which was shocking. As we stood together now on the Fieldhouse podium before so many fans who loved Jim, it was obvious that leaving the game he loved so passionately was moving him deeply.

  “First of all, I want to thank you all for coming,” he said. “I have a few words to say to not only my teammates but to all the fans in Buffalo, and to the media, and to everybody who’s been not just a Jim Kelly fan but a fan of my family.”

  I stood next to Jim and tried my best not to look out at the entire Kelly family all lined up in the first row. I knew if I caught their gaze, I would lose it.

  “As you might imagine, this hasn’t been easy,” Jim stated. “I’ve had to make the most difficult decision of my entire life. I’ve been playing the game of football for over twenty-eight years. Many of my dreams have been fulfilled, many goals have been achieved, but most important to me, I’ve been able to take care of the people I love. So today, I stand before you to officially announce my retirement from the Buffalo Bills and the National Football League.”

  And then Jim stopped, his eyes filling with tears long withheld. Then I started crying. Of course, my being nine months pregnant didn’t help.

  Jim took a deep breath, pulled himself together, then continued with his speech.

  As I glanced out at the hundreds of fans who had come to witness this monumental day for Jim and the Buffalo Bills organization, I was moved. It was such a tribute to Jim and all that he had done for the franchise. He had accomplished so much and given all he had to the team and its dedicated fans—and they knew it.

  The tears were many that day, yet our family had much to look forward to. We had retirement plans, which sounded very strange because Jim was still in his thirties and I was just twenty-seven. And in spite of the sense of loss we felt at leaving football, our sorrow and uncertainty were countered by the excitement of expecting our second child, who would be arriving in two short weeks.

  I knew exactly what would ease Jim’s heartache at giving up the game he loved: telling him that he was about to hold the son he had always wanted. I had made the decision to surprise him and keep it a secret. I couldn’t wait to place our baby boy in those strong, battle-scarred hands that had held a football for so long.

  With our first baby, Erin Marie, we had found out in advance that we were expecting a girl, but the second time around we had decided to wait—or at least Jim thought we had. Are you kidding me? I couldn’t bear not knowing, so when Jim couldn’t make it to one of my routine sonograms, I seized the opportunity to find out for myself. When the doctor told me she saw a little something extra between the baby’s legs, I could hardly contain myself. We were going to have the son my husband had longed for!

  I’d been hoping for a boy for Jim’s sake. He came from a family of six boys and no girls, so you can imagine the pressure. Jim’s younger brother Danny was soon to have his first child. Two of Jim’s older brothers also had boys, as did Danny’s twin, Kevin. So, naturally, the NFL superstar in the family was expected to have a boy, too.

  The anticipation was excruciating. I wanted to tell Jim so badly because he was deeply wounded about retiring, and—as tough as he was—the pain of the decision was obvious. Still, to my amazement, I managed to keep quiet those final two weeks.

  Then, early in the morning on February 14, 1997—Valentine’s Day—my water broke and the contractions began. They intensified during the thirty-minute ride to the hospital, making it seem as though the drive took hours. One thing was on my mind: getting that child out of my dreams and into my arms.

  As soon as we walked through the emergency room doors at the hospital, a nurse helped me into the nearest wheelchair, and off we went. I received a routine epidural as my contractions intensified. Thankfully, my labor only lasted a few hours, and even though my focus was on pushing, I was eager to see Jim’s reaction once he saw our son.

  “It’s a boy!” the doctor exclaimed.

  Jim’s response was priceless: he shouted over and over, “It’s a boy! It’s a boy!” Although my mind and body were spent, waves of joy filled my heart as I watched Jim erupt with excitement and pride. As family quarterback, Jim was the MVP. He’d remained by my side during the entire delivery, making sure all the right plays were called to address my every need. Jim witnessed the entire birth, cut the umbilical cord, and supervised every move the doctors and nurses made. Now, after a quick kiss on my forehead, he was out the door to grab my parents, who were patiently waiting in the hall. Tears of joy streamed down my face. “Daddy’s little boy is finally here.”

  My mom and dad walked into the room, smiling from ear to ear. “I can’t believe it’s a boy,” Mom said as she leaned over to hug me. My dad stood close by and just shook his head, stammering, “Wow.” Jim couldn’t sit still, so he followed the doctors over to the table where they weighed our son and performed all the newborn baby procedures mothers are usually too wiped out to pay attention to.

  After an uneventful pregnancy and fairly easy delivery, the son that Daddy had always dreamed of—the baby destined to be an NFL protégé—finally arrived… a day before his actual due date, yet right on time: on his daddy’s thirty-seventh birthday. No birthday present could compare to the gift of a son. We were amazed and overwhelmed with joy. Our seven-pound, fourteen-ounce dream come true measured twenty-one-and-a-half inches long, and I don’t mind telling you, he was strikingly handsome.

  I let Jim name each of our children. I had picked out plenty of girls’ names but boys’ names were not as easy to come by. Because of Jim’s love for hunting he was determined to name our son Hunter. And so it was, the new rookie was put on the family roster as Hunter James Kelly.

  While Hunter was getting acquainted with all the other newborns in the nursery, Jim started working the phones. One of the first people he called was teammate Thurm
an Thomas, the unstoppable running back who was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 2007. Thurman was Jim’s go-to guy on the field and also a close personal friend. At first, I thought it was a little odd that Jim would call him before any of his brothers, but his intentions immediately became clear. Thurman and his wife, Patti, had three girls, so being a kid at heart, Jim wanted to rub it in. He was relentless in his quest to rattle Thurman with the good news.

  Thurman didn’t answer the first time, so Jim left a message. However, boys will be boys, so one call wasn’t enough. He placed two more calls, leaving the same message every time: “Oh, did I tell you that I had a son, a boy, born on my birthday? Just in case you didn’t hear me the first time, I had a boy, yes, a boy.”

  Hunter’s future was set in stone and the playbook for his life was written. He would play football. He would go hunting. He and his daddy would do all the things that fathers and sons do together. And Jim would be there, guiding Hunter every step of the way. The two would be inseparable. This was going to be a relationship that every boy would long to have with his father: a relationship to behold, to envy, to respect.

  It didn’t take long for the media to catch wind of the good news and gather at the hospital, hoping to hear firsthand about Team Kelly’s new rookie. After Jim was certain that Hunter and I were comfortable, he stepped out to address the curious reporters. With something much more important than football to talk about, he could hardly contain his enthusiasm. It was the birthday he would never forget, for he had been given the most precious gift in the world. Not even a Super Bowl win could compare to this triumph.

  Before Jim walked out the door, I smiled at him and said, “Happy birthday.” Then I snuggled Hunter close, stared into his eyes, and whispered, “You are a gift.”

  Finally alone with my son, I explored every inch of his tiny body to make sure everything was okay. The nurse had assured me that Hunter passed all the mandatory newborn screening tests with flying colors, but examining his little body for myself was a must. It’s a mom thing. If you’ve held your own baby after giving birth, then you know.

  Fresh out of the womb, Hunter’s body looked strong and solid. His facial features were beautiful, with the cutest little nose, perfect lips, and big, bluish-green, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled. His skin was flawless and radiant, and he had such a full head of dark brown hair that he could have made his daddy jealous.

  I’ll never forget those first few moments alone with my son. Hunter captured my heart immediately, and I just knew he was destined to be extraordinary.

  And in those few peaceful moments in the hospital, as I held Hunter…

  Everything was perfect.

  Chapter 2

  Welcome Home

  Hunter seemed so content and peaceful; he barely cried or fussed during our two-day hospital stay. It was apparent that he was just happy to finally be out in the world. He must have heard all the exciting things planned for him and could hardly wait to get out in the backyard to toss the football around with his dad.

  As for me, after spending two days in the hospital, I couldn’t wait to get home and introduce Hunter to his big sister, Erin Marie. Erin was nearly two years old at the time and she was anxious to finally see the baby that had been hiding in Mommy’s belly for so long.

  Jim and I were not married when Erin Marie was born on May 4, 1995. We had met when Jim was at the top of the most-eligible-bachelor list; wealthy, famous, successful—and living like it. Jim was a notorious partier, and his extravagant postgame parties were the talk of Buffalo. I, in contrast, was twenty-one years old, fresh out of college, full of high expectations, and very naïve. While Jim had been completing passes in the end zone to fill Rich Stadium and take his team to the Super Bowl, I had been studying abroad in London, England, to finish out my final semester of college. I never would have expected the Buffalo Bills or Jim Kelly to be in my future.

  But at one of those parties, after a preseason game in September 1991, Jim and I did meet. Some friends of a friend of Jim’s invited my friend and me—you know how it works. Jim’s parties were only for the “somebodies.” You had to know somebody or be personally invited to walk through the door. Otherwise, you wouldn’t make it past “Big Ed,” who happened to be a close friend of Jim’s. At six feet five inches and four hundred–plus pounds, Big Ed stood at the door enforcing the rules of the house. If you weren’t invited, you didn’t get in.

  I will never forget the first night I walked through the doors of Jim Kelly’s house. Talk about intimidated. My girlfriend and I felt absurdly out of place, but we were determined to make this night go down in history. And that it did.

  Jim’s party room was something to see. Even a non–football fan would have appreciated the one-of-a-kind sports and celebrity memorabilia that covered every square inch of wall space. The hallways leading to the bathroom were filled with framed photo memories of Jim and all sorts of famous people, including Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Cal Ripken, Donald Trump, Bill Cosby. While a few family pictures were scattered throughout, the majority of Jim’s wall of fame consisted of pictures of beautiful women. As I looked at Jim’s proud display, I thought to myself, Who is this guy and what’s the big deal?

  Eventually, the highly anticipated introduction was made. It seemed like time stood still when we first met. I was so nervous. My dad would have done anything to meet this guy, and here I was. In the midst of that crowded room filled with famous athletes and beautiful women, Jim took the time to meet me. It was obvious that he had been drinking, and though our conversation was short and sweet, Jim was very gracious and polite. The last thing he said to me in those few moments was, “You have the most beautiful green eyes.”

  While flattered by the compliment, my mind and heart had already determined not to fall for any one-liners. Throughout the rest of the night, Jim flirted with me while I played hard to get. My friend and I spent a lot of time in the bathroom laughing our heads off at all we were experiencing. We couldn’t believe we were actually at Jim Kelly’s house and that he was showing interest in me! Yet I didn’t want to take any of it too seriously.

  Before we left the party that night, Jim asked me for my phone number and, believe it or not, I didn’t give it to him. Becoming another notch in his belt was not in my game plan.

  At work about a week later I answered the phone and was shocked to hear Jim’s voice on the other end. As Jim explained how he’d found out where I worked, I did my best to keep my composure. He ultimately asked me for a date, which I agreed to without hesitation. Jim offered to have his limo driver pick me up, but rather than seem impressed by all the celebrity stuff, I decided to meet him at his home. Even now, I shake my head over that decision. What was I thinking? A gentleman should pick his girl up—it’s just the proper thing to do. (Don’t forget that, Erin and Camryn!)

  I ended up driving to Jim’s house from that date forward. Afraid of what my father would think about me spending a night out with the NFL’s most eligible bachelor, I asked my mother to keep our first date a secret. She waited until I left the house that evening before spilling the news. It’s a good thing, too, because my father understandably had major reservations about the whole thing. My parents watched the clock until my safe return home. And no wonder—I was only twenty-one years old and still under their roof.

  That night would be the first of many adjustments my family would have to make as Jim and I spent more and more time together. Simply put, everything about Jim and his lifestyle was drastically different from what I was accustomed to. For Jim, life was just one big party once the game was over. He was completely focused on football when it was time for football, but he used his free time to enjoy every ounce of his celebrity.

  Though clueless about his world, I tried my best to act as if I had it all figured out. Learning to roll with the punches while adjusting to life Kelly-style was my only option. Because Jim was recognized everywhere we went, I had to master the ins and outs of being in public with
him: head down, walk fast, and if someone yells out, “Hey, Jim Kelly!”—just keep walking.

  Although it could be annoying to have people screaming one’s name, I was so impressed with Jim’s patience toward his adoring fans. He was always willing to sign an autograph and was particularly kind to kids. Jim’s unpretentious way made him very approachable. Despite his national prominence, Jim was just an ordinary guy. Still, it was all so crazy, especially during the Super Bowl days. Everybody wanted a piece of Jim—no one more than me—and we had to constantly adjust our lives around the incessant demands for his attention.

  A year and a half after we met, I decided to move out of my parents’ home. Bent on personal success and proving myself worthy of adulthood, I dove into the many possibilities available at the time and settled in South Florida, with a career in television marketing and production as my focus.

  Even though I was having a blast down in the Sunshine State, the long-distance relationship thing with Jim just wasn’t working. In my absence Jim realized that he was willing to give up some things in order to have me by his side, and eventually he asked me to move in with him. We’d been dating for almost three years by this time. It was a huge commitment for Jim. After all, these were the Super Bowl years—the glory days—and he was the Buffalo Bills’ marquee quarterback. But it was also a huge commitment for me.

  The decision to move back to Western New York and into Jim’s home would ultimately alter the rest of my life, and Jim’s as well. On May 4, 1994, exactly one year prior to the birth of our first child, I crossed the threshold of his house and simultaneously set off a domino effect of events that would completely transform my world.

  Four months after Jim’s bachelor pad became my new address, my period was late. My menstrual cycle had never been consistent, so no alarms went off at first. However, once two weeks had passed and my period still had not started, I grew very concerned.