He noticed April making her way through the folding tables they’d set up for the kids so they could sit and eat comfortably. She was laughing as she watched one kid throw his arm back like he was about to launch a pass. Blake found himself grinning even though he didn’t know the story. After lunch, when they called the kids back to their drill groups, Blake made his way over to April.
“So, what’s your take so far?” he asked, pushing up his sunglasses so she could see his eyes. Natalie had always preferred for him to do that when he was talking to her.
“Well, they’re still pretty much in the awe mode. All they could talk about was how cool you guys are. You have some big fans here.”
Coach Garretty always nipped those sentiments in the bud with his Once Upon A Dare speech. Blake had elected to run on fun and inspiration in this camp, not hard work and fear.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I need to get back to my team.” Man, how he loved that word.
“I’ll be here,” she said with a wave.
The afternoon continued with more drills, ones they repeated over and over again. He saved the Agility and Speed Handoff drill for last since it required more concentration and teamwork. The kids in his group now knew one another’s names, and they easily called them out during the drills when needed. After being in the sun all day, he wished he’d dabbed on more sunscreen, feeling the burn on his nose and cheeks left exposed under the brim of his Raiders ball cap.
When he called it quits, he, Sam, and Frank huddled with the boys to talk about the day and give high-fives. One bold kid asked if he could have his autograph. Blake ruffled the boy’s brown hair and said they’d all be giving autographs at the end of camp. Coach Garretty hadn’t allowed it. Blake had decided to provide the opportunity, remembering what it had felt like to come to a camp where he was coached by some of the NFL’s greatest players.
The camp volunteers escorted the boys back to the dorm. Spirits were mostly high, but he saw one kid moping all by himself, trailing behind the others. Jogging over, he fell into step with the kid. So abject was the boy’s misery, he didn’t even notice Blake.
“Hey,” he said, “what’s got you so long in the face?”
The kid’s mouth dropped open, and then he grinned, showing a space where he’d lost his front tooth. “You’re Blake Cunningham! I mean Coach Blake.”
That was another thing he hadn’t wanted to model from Coach Garretty, so all the coaches were being called by their first names.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Did you have a tough day?”
He lifted his shoulder. “I didn’t catch most of my passes. I usually do better, but…”
“But you were nervous, right?” The kid slowed down when he did. “Is this your first camp?”
He nodded, kicking at the sidewalk. “Yeah.”
“What’s your name?”
“Paul.”
“Well, Paul, I was nervous the first time I went to camp too, and usually the first day of every camp after that. I really wanted to do well.”
He remembered those days with fondness. The first camp had been the hardest because he hadn’t known anyone. Coach Garretty only took kids who’d been nominated by their school coaches. He’d been nominated for the youngest age group—the ten to twelve year olds—since his arm had shown incredible promise.
“I wanted to prove to everyone I could do well,” he told the boy.
This time Paul nodded his head vigorously. “Me too.”
“I’ll tell you a secret it took me years to learn.”
The boy’s eyes brightened, and he leaned in when Blake crooked his finger.
“If you have fun and play to make yourself happy, everything else will fall into place.” He clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Once you stop worrying about impressing other people, it becomes a lot easier. That other crap…it messes with your head. Now, go on in and have some fun.”
“Thanks, Coach Blake.”
He held up his hand for a high-five. Their palms connected. The kid gave him one last beaming smile before running inside.
“You’re a good coach,” Sam said, appearing at his side. “I always thought so. You have the leadership to raise them into good men, not just football players,” Sam said, taking off his ball cap and running his fingers through his hair. “We need more coaches like that.”
“I appreciate you saying so. We’ll have to see how that shapes up, now that I’ve turned the high school job down,” he said, even though he’d told Sam about the rationale for his decision.
“That guy was a pain in the ass. I told you that you don’t want to work in that kind of environment.”
He didn’t. And he had faith he could figure something out.
“Are you thinking about coaching when you retire?”
Sam refitted his Warriors ball cap on his head. “It’s a possibility. We’ll see when the time comes.”
And the time was coming, they both knew. Sam was no spring chicken in the NFL. The early retirement age was something all of them dealt with in their own way.