I stayed in the ice bath for as long as I could stand it. When I was done, I had to have Becky and Jill help me to get out. They wrapped my ribs and around my hips. I was a happy boy when they gave me a pain pill.
“Tell me it gets better,” I almost begged.
“Hip pointers aren’t anything to laugh about. That’s why they give you pads,” Jill explained.
Football pants had pads on the sides and one in the back to protect the tailbone. I also wore lacrosse shorts to safeguard me further when I played. At some point, someone had gotten a hip pointer and invented football pants to protect against it. I understood completely and silently thanked whoever it was for his creation.
◊◊◊
Dare had waited for me and wheeled me out to the practice field. Coach Mason was running passing drills, and my backup, Trent Buchannan, promptly overthrew Wolf. That was hard to do, so I wasn’t surprised when Coach Mason sent Trent to me to be coached-up. He’d done something similar at my Elite Quarterback camp in Houston. Coach Mason would continue to run the drill while the wayward player would go talk to another coach one-on-one.
I took one look at Trent, and it was clear he was about to have a meltdown.
“Dammit to Hell! I can’t seem to do anything right,” he complained.
“I know exactly what you’re feeling.”
“Bullshit!” he barked.
“How do you think I became a starter?” I asked and waited for him to focus. “I was a freshman fullback. Our starter hurt his hand, and I had to step in and play. At least you have a full week to get ready. I came off the bench.”
“You almost won that game. I was there, you know,” Trent huffed.
“You don’t think I was feeling everything you are right now? I was scared I would let everyone down. It might have been better that I didn’t get a chance to think about it, but I was worried I would mess up and ruin the season,” I shared.
Trent took a deep breath and held it. He let it out in one long hiss.
“What do I need to do?” he asked.
“I don’t know if you’re religious or not. That doesn’t really matter, but there is a little prayer that seems to help me. It’s called the Serenity Prayer. It starts with, ‘God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference.’
“Stop focusing on what you can’t control. Focus on throwing the ball,” I said.
“Does that really work?” Trent asked.
“You’re surrounded by players who have been winning games. Trust them to do their jobs, and you just focus on doing yours. If you can complete a few passes and not turn the ball over, we can beat Beverly,” I said, and then smiled. “That starts with you throwing the ball correctly. I know you can do it. I saw you when I came back this summer and in practice last year.”
“What am I doing wrong?”
I saw him relax.
“You tell me,” I shot back.
He gave me a pained expression. Uncle John was probably amused right now that I’d used one of his techniques on someone else.
“What did you do on the last throw?” I prompted. “How did you stride? Where was your release point? And, by the way, how can you miss someone that big?” I asked with a grin.
The last one was to lighten the mood, but Trent started to talk about how he’d released the ball too early and hadn’t done his full stride.
“Get back in there and do it right,” I coached. “You’ve got this.”
He trotted back to Coach Mason. I found my brother standing in front of me. He would be either next year’s quarterback or the year after if Trent got his act together. I guess Coach Mason planned to take full advantage of me. He wanted to get in as much work as possible while I was there to coach them up when they did something wrong.
“What did you do?” I asked.
I wasn’t trying to be smart, I’d been talking to Trent and hadn’t seen why Phil was standing in front of me. My brother gave me a look that didn’t make me happy. Then Dare tapped my shoulder and showed me his phone. He’d been videoing and caught it.
“Go get a football,” I ordered.
When Phil came back, I had him grip it. This was something that wasn’t taught enough. I was surprised I’d never picked up on how my brother held the football.
“I’m about to help you become a much better passer. The grip isn’t normally something that’s taught, but it should be.” I was lucky that Bo Harrington had coached me during my freshman year. There are a lot of things that are taught wrong about how to hold the ball. You’ll see guys put their index finger on the tip of the ball or have the front tip pointed downward on the release.
“The proper way is to have the front tip pointed slightly up,” I said, and had him toss me the ball so I could show him. “How do we do that?”
I paused for his answer. Phil just looked at me, so I continued.
“I want your ring finger’s first knuckle to be just in front of the second lace at the back of the ball. I want your index finger to rest under the laces, and your pinky to rest under the laces,” I said as I demonstrated.
