Brock Kelly looked down at the twenty-some boys gathered in a group at his and Jeremy's feet. Then he glanced up into the stands where his old coach, Grant Taylor, was sitting.
Brock and Jeremy, both in their mid-twenties now, had volunteered to coach a summer football team for old times' sake. At first, it had been fun. The boys had been enthusiastic and willing to learn. But, as the summer had continued on without even one winning game to their name, everyone became discouraged, including Brock and Jeremy.
At his wit's end, Brock had asked Coach Taylor if he could help them out during their final practice. Besides that, Brock figured that it would be a good note for the boys to end on, meeting Albany's living legend of a coach. Because, the thing was, neither Brock not Jeremy really believed that these boys could get it together enough to win what could easily become their final game.
Coach Taylor looked back at Brock, and the young man suddenly drew a blank. What did he do with these boys? Brock looked at Jeremy, who just shrugged. Apparently, they were both at a loss.
"Okay," Brock finally addressed the boys. "Why don't you boys do some stretches and Coach Jeremy and I will go talk to Coach Taylor for a few minutes."
The boys spread out across the field, and the two co-coaches headed over to their mentor.
Before Brock could say a word, Coach Taylor said, "You have no idea what to do, do you?"
Though it was phrased as a question, the older man's expression declared it to be a statement.
"No," Brock admitted at the same time as Jeremy declared, "Not a clue."
Grant Taylor sighed, and the understanding that had been in his eyes and had been a strange comfort to Brock morphed into disappointment and a little exasperation that left Brock somehow even more disheartened.
"What do we do, Coach?" Jeremy asked, declaring "We just can't do itI have no idea how to handle these kids. Football I get, people I don't."
"Brock?" Coach Taylor asked, turning expectantly to the young man in question.
Brock just shrugged, mumbling, "I'm in the same boat as Jeremy."
"No," the coach quickly disagreed with a shake of his head. "No, you're not. Jeremy, don't take offense to this, but, Brock, you've got more people skills then Jeremy and I both put together." Grant leaned forward, looking him squarely in the eye. "I seem to remember that I've told you that once or twice in the past." Brock glanced guiltily away as the man he respected turned to Jeremy. "And everybody here knows that you were a part of what happened that same day." he gestured to the boys on the field behind them. "Those boys know it too." Coach Taylor's expression softened, ending his small, impassioned speech by saying, "Don't disappoint them. Or me. Or, better yet, yourselves for that matter."
"But, Coach," Brock exclaimed. "We can't-"
"Yes," Grant Taylor interrupted his former student, slapping a hand against the bench to get Brock's and Jeremy's attention. "You can. I'm pretty sure we proved that the day that you two did the death crawl across an entire football field. You boys do remember that, don't you?"
Brock's arms began to burn at the very memory as he and Jeremy nodded.
"Good," the coach continued. "Now. Here's the deal. The two of you can either recreate that little scene so that we all know you remember it, or you can get out there and have one more great practice with those boys. Which would you rather do?"
It was a question that didn't need answered, so Jeremy asked a different question instead, "Yeah, fine, but what are we actually supposed to do with them? At this point, nothing is going to make a difference in the way that they play, not this late in the game."
Grant paused for a moment before asking, "Have you ever thought of letting the boys choose what they want to do?"
"What?" Jeremy asked. "They're just a bunch of kids."
Coach Taylor nodded. "Yeah, they are, but you just said it yourself, at this point it really doesn't matter what they do, so why not just let them have fun during their final practice?"
The younger men shrugged and turned back towards the boys, walking into the middle of the field. "Alright, guys," Brock called out. "Come here!"
A few minutes later, Brock stood at the edge of the football field, watching as Jeremy helped the boys.
"You know," his old coach came to stand next to him, copying his posture - leaning back again the chain-link fence, arms crossed over his chest, face stoic as he squinted beneath his baseball cap to block out the blazing, Albany summer sun. "This might be a good chance for observation."
Brock arched a thick black eyebrow, silently inquiring what his coach meant.
Coach Taylor pointed out at the boys on the field. "Right now you can see what they like and what they're good at and translate that into what positions to put them on during the game."
"But that's the problem," Brock complained, turning towards the other man. "Most of them aren't good at any of it."
"That's because they're little kids," the coach stated, a smile playing about his lips. "And you are taking this way too seriously; you and Jeremy both are."
"Besides, they all already have positions set for them."
"So? Again, the game that's coming up is the last one of their summer, and if any of their games should be sheerly about the fun of the game it should be that one - especially for these guys. If you burn them out on football in grade school, who's going to be Shiloh's next football star in high school?"
"None of these guys." Brock muttered under his breath.
Hearing him, the coach raised his eyebrows and gave him a nearly reproachful look.
"Well," Brock exclaimed in exasperation. "Have you seen the track record that this team has? Them being football stars on any level is impossible!"
Steel flashed through Grant Taylor's eyes. "Do you remember anything that your senior year of high school taught you?"
Brock nodded curtly.
"Do you still believe it then?"
At that question Brock only shrugged stiffly before saying, "Under most circumstances, yes, but these kids-"
"-Are no different from your high school class, except, maybe, for the fact that these kids have coaches that are better than Brady, J.T., and I were, when you were in school anyway."
Brock sighed.
"The point is that nothing is impossible with God; remember that?"
Brock nodded, feeling a little disappointed in himself as he looked at the grass under his feet. "Yeah, I know."
"Then make a couple of changes in the boys' positions and just dedicate this last game of theirs to having fun and to God." A knowing smile teased onto Coach Taylor's face. "You might find yourself surprised at what those boys will suddenly become capable of."
Brock smiled back at his mentor as he nodded. "I think I'll just talk to Jeremy about doing that."
Grant Taylor slapped him on the back. "You do that."
Later on in the day, after practice had ended, as Brock discussed the idea with his co-coach, he felt himself struggling to maintain the optimism that now seemed to come so easily to Coach Taylor. But he and Jeremy decided to try the new plan anyway; not like it would make a difference.
But it did, believe it or not. Brock had never seen such happy expressions as those worn by the kids as they clustered around their trophy. Brock would have loved to have seen his own face during those moments. A few minutes after the game, Coach Taylor appeared behind Brock and Jeremy.
He slung an arm around the shoulders of each boy, asking with a smile, "So, tell me, coaches, what is impossible with God?"
"Nothing, Coach." Brock and Jeremy both declared with a laugh.
Coach Taylor nodded. "Isn't He good to give us a reminder every once in awhile?" The older man looked fondly at the still-celebrating boys. "Especially when it's a reminder like this one?"
Brock agreed with a smile. "I like these types better than me crawling across a football field with a 160 lb man on my back."
This is my first FtG piece, and has been an on-going project for around a year. I hope that you like it! Please R&R! Thanks!:)