I loved to run with Peggy. In addition, I still had a huge crush on her.
“Settle down. I love running with you, but you need someone to push you. Your pace today was 15 seconds per mile faster than I normally run, and you were just gliding. You need someone who can push you closer to a five-minute mile pace. I still want to run with you on freestyle days, but I can’t get you to where you need to be on distance days.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to my trainer and let her know. I’m going to go take a shower. Why don’t you start bringing a bag and you can just shower here? Greg can take us to school. That’ll save you a trip home.”
“Won’t Tracy mind?” she asked.
“I can’t see why. It’s not as if she doesn’t already know you’ve seen me naked. If she had a problem, I’d have heard about it by now.”
“Okay, I’ll bring my bag tomorrow.”
When I got out of the shower, Peggy was gone. I sent a text to Tami and wished her a good day. I sent another text to my Uncle John to let him know I was offered a scholarship to Kentucky. I sent one to Alan and Jeff to let them know I was going to be at lunch today. They’d felt a little uncomfortable without me there. They weren’t yet used to my jock and cheerleader friends. I sent a final text to Lily to see if she’d help me set up a Facebook page for my recruiting.
I WAS ZONED OUT IN second period World History when one of the office secretaries gave the teacher a note.
“Mr. Dawson, you’re to report to Coach Lambert’s office.”
Everyone gave me looks as I packed up my things. I’d never been summoned to the Coach’s office during school before. I ran through all the possible reasons I would be called to his office. I decided to go with the flow. I found Coach Lambert’s door closed. I was undecided as to what to do when the door suddenly opened.
“Come on in, Son.”
Coach indicated a chair for me to sit in. He was quiet for several moments.
“Magic has broken his middle finger and won’t be back for at least three games. The coaching staff has agreed that our best option is to have you play quarterback.”
I figured they would bring the JV quarterback in to play varsity. He at least had a year under his belt, as he had played freshman ball. I was grateful for the opportunity.
“Coach, I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will. The problem is we’ve decided that if you’re going to start, we’ll need to change our style of play. If we do that, then Magic won’t be coming back to play quarterback.”
My heart sank. I didn’t want to do anything to hurt my friend. He had a potential scholarship offer based on his football skills. Without the scholarship, he’d most likely go to the local junior college, because it was cheaper.
“Son, I know what it means to Magic and his family. To be honest, he was a long shot to get a scholarship. The recruiters aren’t looking for a veer-option quarterback. I sat down with him and his family on Sunday to map out his options. He has a much better shot of getting a scholarship playing cornerback. If he switches now, he can play immediately.”
“Is he okay with this?”
Coach smiled.
“Actually, he’s fine with it. He just loves the game, and even Kevin is pleased to see an offensive player coming to defense. I never thought I would see that.”
“What did you need me for?”
“Joe Phips found us a coach who might help us. He’s asked to see you run some drills before he agrees. At first, I told Joe a thing or two. But he sent me this guy’s résumé, and the list of quarterbacks he’s coached reads like a ‘who’s who’ list.”
“Who is he?”
“Bo Harrington.”
“When does he get here?”
“The tryout is scheduled for noon. He’s flying in. If he likes you, he has plans of moving here temporarily. Coach Engels has agreed to put him up for the rest of the season.”
“Is Bill free to help?”
Bill was the junior receiver that I’d been working with on the scout team.
“Yep, he’s getting dressed as we speak. Why don’t you get changed; we’re going to do this in shorts and t-shirts. Don’t forget your helmet.”
I found Bill in the locker room. I remembered my promise to Alan and Jeff and sent a text to tell them what I was doing. Bill looked nervous.
“What the hell is your problem? You look like you’ve never done this before.”
He gave me a sheepish grin.
“Up yours, Double D. This is my shot to play, and I don’t want to mess it up.”
I cuffed him on the back of the head.
“Come on. I’m going to throw some balls at you and see if you can still catch them, before it’s showtime.”
I took Bill out to the football field and we started to run some patterns. I had him run through the workout I did for the University of Kentucky. I heard the noon bell ring and still no Coach or Bo Harrington. Bill caught everything I threw at him.
“I’m going to put some heat on a few. Think you can catch ’em?”
“You bet.”
Bill started with a basic buttonhook. As soon as he broke, the ball was in his chest and bounced three yards away.
I heard someone behind me.
“Shit, that’s going to leave a mark.”
Bill was rubbing his chest.
“I know, you warned me it was coming. It was my fault,” Bill said.
I had expected someone who was retired or close to it. It turned out Bo Harrington was in his mid-thirties. He came up and shook my hand.
“You must be David.”
“Coach Harrington?”
“Yes, sorry. Coach Lambert and I have been up in the press box watching you run your drills. What I haven’t seen is something long. It’s Bill, right?” Bill nodded. “Can you run a deep post, say 35 yards?”
“Yes, sir.”
Bill ran down about 15 yards and broke for the post. He was at full speed, so I lofted a soft one that he could run under. He pulled it in stride and jogged back.
Bo looked at me.
“Okay, I want you to put a little something on it this time. A ball in the air that long is going to draw a crowd, and you’re going to get Bill killed.”
Bill ran the same play, but this time I fired the ball on a rope. Bill snatched the football out of the air and came back to line up again. Coach Harrington had him come over to us instead. He looked at Bill.
“I just have a couple of questions, and I want Bill to answer them if you don’t mind.” We both nodded in agreement. “His balls don’t sail or fall short?”
“It usually isn’t that he throws high or low, it’s he’ll throw a fastball and it’ll bounce off your helmet or pads.”
“How is he at leading you? Do you have to wait for throws?”
“No, if anything he makes me hustle to catch up to a ball. But that’s more me being lazy than where he puts the ball.”
“Okay, that confirms what I saw in the game film.” Bo turned to me. “David, are you willing to work your butt off?”
“What are we talking about?”
“You know, you’re the first one who’s ever asked me that. Usually I get a snap answer of yes. Let me guess, you get good grades too?”
“I do okay, A’s and B’s.”
“Coach, don’t let him fool you, he’s a nerd,” Bill offered.
“We’re talking extra sessions working on your footwork, throwing motion, reading defenses, learning to make all the passes. Outside of what you’re already doing, you’ll be working two to four hours a day, and six to eight hours on the weekends.”
“Aren’t there rules against being coached only a certain number of hours?”
“If I was going to be working for the high school, yes, there would be, but you’re going to hire me. You can have all the personal training you want.”
“Okay, I’m a fifteen-year-old high school kid. How am I going to afford you?”
He looked at Bill.
“Go hit the showers, David and I need to talk.”
Bill looked concerned, but he did as he was told.
“Okay, David, this is where we find out how serious you are. If you go to state and win, that’s nine more weeks of football. I’ll be working with you in practice through Coach Engels. We’ll be spending an average six hours per day, seven days a week. That comes to a little over 375 hours of work. This will take me away from my other work to devote to your career. My normal billing rate is $125 per hour. Let’s ballpark this at $50,000.”