Trent and Hack copied what I did and were both smiling when they finished. Gabe had his own plays from Washington. I recognized them from Coach Diamond’s playbook when he was here at Lincoln.
Once all the quarterbacks were done warming up on the four passing drills, they had us do the different footwork and speed drills. I was surprised when it turned out that Hack and Gabe had never done these exercises before, so I had Trent show them what was expected at each station.
Coach Title was lurking behind us, and I got the feeling he was evaluating me. I’d observed coaches for the other three groups actively working with their charges. Instead of working with us himself, it seemed like he wanted to see how I would coach the three players in my group. I had the feeling that if he disagreed with me, he would say something. When practice ended, he just left with the other coaches. I don’t think he said two words all practice.
◊◊◊
For the most part, the camp participants were local. Unlike other camps I’d gone to, they didn’t have dorm rooms for the campers to stay in. The three Elite 11 quarterbacks were talking, so I joined them.
“I thought we were going to get to go head-to-head with you,” Matt Long, the USC commit, said.
“I thought so too. We have a few more days to see who the best is,” I said with a smile. “What’re you guys doing tonight?”
“We were just discussing that. Personally, I’d like to work out and then eat,” Larry Dell, the Elite 11 winner, said.
“I’ve got just the thing for you,” I said with a big grin.
“Why do I think this is going to be a bad idea?” Jaylen Kent, the Maryland commit, asked.
◊◊◊
I introduced them to Cassidy and sixty minutes of hell. Since it was just the four of us, and we were all supposed to be top athletes, Cassidy decided not to hold back. I think making me wear my weighted vest was unfair. By the end, she’d gotten two of our three guests to throw up. It seemed Jaylen was in better shape than the other two. I wasn’t sure if I was having a heart attack or not. What sucked was Cassidy did the exact same workout we did, and she was still full of energy when we were done.
Larry was bent over, dry-heaving.
“Dear God. You do this to get into shape?” he asked as he held his side.
“Five times a week in the offseason,” I admitted as I got to my feet. “Cassidy also teaches me self-defense.”
“Which you’ve been slacking off on,” Cassidy reminded me.
“Dawson!”
I turned to see who’d called me; it was Coach Title. I’d noticed earlier that Jeff’s TV crew was following me around. They’d disappeared for a while, and I’d hoped they were done for the day, but they were back.
“Looks like I’ve been summoned. If you guys want to come to my place for dinner tonight, you’re welcome. Just tell Cassidy, and she’ll give you directions,” I said and jogged off to see what Coach Title wanted.
I followed him into the Field House and into to one of the video rooms. I found Coach Hope, Coach Stevens, Coach Rector, and Alan from Lincoln, seated with Coach Haber, Coach Hightower (passing), and Coach Offutt (defensive coordinator) from Michigan. Sitting in the back of the room were Jeff and his camera crew.
“We were just going over today’s camp. Coach Title told us you helped your group through their drills. I wanted to hear what you thought of them,” Coach Haber said.
I gave them a report on each player, including any observations I had on receivers or cornerbacks. Both Alan and Coach Hightower took notes on what I said. This was the first time I’d seen Alan since school got out. It was a little sad when I discovered I really hadn’t missed him.
“Good report; thanks, David,” Coach Haber said and turned to Coach Title. “Anything to add?”
“From today’s performance, it’s obvious David isn’t taking football seriously enough,” he began.
I looked at Coach Haber and then Jeff to see if this was another stunt. I felt like one episode of Punk’d was enough for one day.
“Look me in the eyes when I’m talking to you! You might learn something,” Coach Title growled.
Suddenly he had my full focus. What he’d just done was try to assert dominance, which awoke the Alpha Male in me. It also brought forward the part of me that was like my mom, which was never good. What saved him was the camera crew that was suddenly front and center.
“Do I have your full attention?” he asked.
I barely nodded. I expect everyone in the room could tell I wasn’t a happy camper for being called out like that in front of everyone there. Who was this guy to question my dedication to football? He’d been with me for maybe three hours today. Fortunately, I remembered something Uncle John had said to me that summer so long ago. He quoted: ‘Knowledge is knowing what to say. Wisdom is knowing when to say it, if at all.’ So, I gritted my teeth and shut up.
He proceeded to explain what was wrong with me and how, if I would give up baseball, all the ills of my game could be fixed. He may have had some good points; I’ll never know. The teenager in me wasn’t listening to him. It was the exact wrong way to get my buy-in to his coaching. I was too busy thinking about having him coach me for four years and how that would never happen.
“That was informative,” I said once he finally wound down. “If you don’t need me …”
I didn’t wait for them to say one way or another. Either way, I was done.
◊◊◊
I’d warned Mom that we were having guests for dinner. So, she walked next door from her office and had Mary make up food she could just bring home from the restaurant. I smelled fried chicken when I walked in the back door. Duke showed me where it was. I peeked to see what else was warming in the oven and found mashed potatoes, fried green tomatoes, and a sausage and zucchini casserole.
Coby and Little David were in high chairs with Peggy feeding them. Mom walked in while I took over to allow Peggy to escape and do some reading for her summer-school class.
“How was your day?” she asked.
Sometimes it’s therapeutic to unburden yourself. Mom didn’t speak or ask questions, she just listened.
“So, you had a good day?” she asked when I was done.
I rocked back in my chair and took a deep breath.
“Any day I get to play football is a good day,” I admitted.
◊◊◊
Cassidy showed up with her dad and brother in tow. I guess I did invite everyone to dinner. Matt and Jay showed up with their dads, who had come to camp with them. Larry had his high school football coach along.
“Mrs. Dawson, this is great,” Jay said.
My mom’s look dared me to contradict the poor boy about who had prepared the meal.
“Yes, it was nice of you to invite us for dinner on short notice,” Larry said.
“I have to say, David’s not what we expected,” Matt said.
“You better explain that,” his dad chided.
“Oh, sorry. It’s just that we were prepared to hate you. The press was relentless with questions about whether Elite 11 was legitimate without you there to defend your title. The coaches also used you as an example if we did something wrong.”
“That’s why we decided to come to camp. We wanted to meet you and see how we measured up. Then they stick us with that kid Mike who hates your guts,” Jay said.
“I don’t know why. He’s been the cause of all his own problems,” I said.
“It’s sometimes easy to be a target when you’re on top, but you won’t have to worry about that for long,” Larry said with a smile.
“You poor delusional fool, you just poked the bear,” Mom said.
“Never challenge David unless you’re prepared to get his best,” Brad Hope offered. “I’ve watched him play enough to know you never want to do that.”