Finally, it's just me and Terrell.

I'd been in Denver for four days. Already asked for an interview once. Was rejected. So here we are again.

The Broncos had just broken in Invesco Field at Mile High, against the New Orleans Saints. (Random note: Why won't the Denver Post get over itself and call the stadium by its rightful name? The newspaper stubbornly calls it New Mile High. Look, Mile High Stadium was great, but times change. Move on.)

But more importantly, it was TD's return to the field. And although 11 carries for 34 yards aren't sexy, he looked good -- hitting the holes hard, making something out of nothing, leaving healthy. All the more reason why I'd love to talk to him.

It's just us -- no one left in the Broncos locker room, approximately 11:20 p.m. Mountain time, and he finally relents. "Alright," he says. "Let's talk."

We talk for about an hour, as he eats Skittles and plays around with his retainer, thinking and speaking openly about the past two years. Then, the doors break open, and in comes his mother Kateree, with 10 screaming kids from one of TD's charities. He signs, poses, talks. Although his injuries have kept him from doing anything huge on the field for almost two years, he's still as big as ever in Denver.

Kateree hands off her disposable camera ("We could get a better one but I'm always losing them and loading the film wrong," she says) and gets a snapshot of her and her son. You'd think she'd have enough of these, but this was a big game. TD's back.

A few minutes later, they're leaving together. I think about butting in for one more quote, or scene, or something. But then I hold back. She waited about an hour for me to finish talking to TD.

It was well past midnight. Finally, it was she and her son.

E-mail Seth Wickersham at seth.wickersham@espnmag.com.