When the game was finally over, Phoebe threw herself from Viktor to Ron, while Pooh yipped at her heels and the scoreboard flashed the outcome: Stars 24, Giants 10.

She declined Ron’s request to come with him to the locker room. Instead, she and Viktor stayed in the skybox and watched the short postgame interviews that had recently been added to the Monday night game. Dan managed to be both modest and jubilant, heaping praise on his players. His words came to her in snatches.

“Great heads-up play by the defense . . . a lot of quarterbacks fancier than Jim Biederot, but no one’s got more heart. . . . We got burned on the blitz a couple of times, but we came right back. . . .” He concluded the interview by saying, “You’re not going to find a better ball club than the Giants. We’re just glad we were ready for them.”

Al Michaels congratulated Dan on the win, then moved to Bobby Tom, who had pulled his Stetson over his matted hair. “Bobby Tom, you were open all night. How do you account for that?”

Bobby Tom gave the camera his best Lone Star grin. “We worked hard this week. And, Al, I can’t say enough good things about the way Jim threw the ball tonight. . . .”

After several more questions, Michaels turned to Webster Greer. “What do you think made the difference for the Stars this week, Webster?”

Webster tugged on the towel that he’d hung around his neck, which was still glistening with sweat. “We’ve been a good ball club all season, but we’ve been tight. Miss Somerville talked to all of us before the game and helped us relax a little. We went out there and forced the Giants to play our game. It made a difference.”

Al Michaels hadn’t earned his reputation as one of the best sportscasters in the business by letting a tidbit like that slip by him. “Exactly what did she tell the team?”

Greer smiled and rubbed the towel over the back of his neck. “Nothing much. A couple of jokes. She’s a nice lady.”

Phoebe’s cheeks flushed. She felt as if she’d been handed a valentine.

It was nearly two in the morning before the plane left Newark for O’Hare. Even though the victory was only a few hours old, Ron was already thinking about next week.

“We picked up momentum tonight,” he said as the plane reached its cruising altitude and the seat belt light went off. “I hope we don’t lose it.”

“Try to relax and enjoy the victory. They’re not worried.” She tilted her head toward the back of the plane, where the raucous noise of the players celebrating could be clearly heard.

“I suppose you’re right.”