Daddy came home yesterday, achy, tired, and grinning from ear to ear. People kept texting, Coach kept responding, and the smiles kept coming. I said nothing, watching surreptitiously, waiting to be let in on the fun. "Who are you texting with?" I finally pleaded, wondering if there were some good news to which I wasn't yet privy. I love his answer: "my boys-- they're ready!"
Spring football starts today, and like the field paint that stains his hands, those high school boys fill his waking moments. All the anticipation, the new coaches, new material from the winter clinics, and the love come back full force and the boys who send texts at all hours of the day make for one very happy coach. Nothing is better than the opportunity to start over, try new things, improve the old-- the grind, he calls it, but he loves the grind.
I've never seen a coach so happy to mow his own field, change the sprinklers, line up screwdrivers and yarn and mark off yards down the field. There's nothing prettier than a freshly painted field, waiting for the trample of cleats and the slide of the pants on a perfect tackle. A stadium waiting for the echo of a chant from a hundred young boys who just gave their all. The handing out of equipment, methodical placing of pants, girdles, shoulder pads, and helmets, a masterpiece of pulling a team together. Check out the equipment room, the washers and dryers the coaches use to personally clean the uniforms late into the night, replacing each item into its appropriate bin, ready to start again on Monday. Watching film, not just once, but over and over, replay after replay. Pause, play, pause, replay, until the wives start calling and film-watching is postponed until tomorrow. The grind, he calls it.
He's been waiting almost six months for it, the work, the worry, the weary mornings after a tough game. He's been waiting and so have the boys; and when the texts come in at 10:00 and 11:00 at night-- "Can't wait, Coach", "Ready 2 hit!", "4 mo dayz!"-- I understand the grind a little bit better. The smile on his face makes it crystal clear.
