[And what can he teach cornerbacks who are used to grabbing the receiver's jersey at the seven or eight-yard mark?] You've got to teach them to have a short memory, ... So they can get to the next down.

[Mora, after seven years as a 49ers assistant, returned to San Francisco for his first NFL game.] When the schedule came out and I saw that, I laughed, ... I knew everyone would try to make that game about me, which was silly. Hey, I've played my dad four times. Now that's something. It's an awful day, win or lose. Someone in the Mora family is guaranteed to lose, and that's an awful day.

Wow, hi,’ Eight says, and when he speaks it’s with his own voice.

It’s him. It’s really him.

Marina nearly doubles over with a delighted sob. She collects herself quickly, though, and grabs Eight first by the shoulders, then on the sides of his face. She pulls him in close.

‘You’re warm,’ she says in wonder. ‘You’re so warm.’

Eight laughs easily. He puts his hand over Marina’s and gently kisses the side of it.

‘You’re warm, too,’ he says.

‘I’m so sorry, Eight. I’m sorry I couldn’t heal you.’

Eight shakes his head. ‘Stop, Marina. It’s okay. You brought me here. It’s – I can’t even describe it. It’s amazing in there.’

Already, I see the energy spreading outward from Eight’s heart. It races through his body, fissures opening on his arms and legs. He doesn’t seem to be in any pain. He just smiles at Marina and looks at her like he’s trying to memorize her face.

‘Can I kiss you?’ Marina asks him.

‘I really wish you would.

If I ever see you again, you traitorous bastard, I'll take out the other fucking eye!

You may think you have 100 moles in your yard, but it may be one or two. One or more can make an awful lot of tunnels in your yard overnight.

In the first half, we had seven or eight shots go in and out.