“Can you believe spring practice is about to start?” Treyvon says to me after a strength-training session.
“Hard to believe it’s March already, but at the same time, this is what I’ve been waiting for all semester,” I tell him. “And it will be fun to split up into our position groups. I wish you played on the offensive side.”
“You know, I used to play wide receiver,” he says.
“I could see that. You’ve got the body for it.”
“I’ve grown a couple more inches since I got to college. And I kind of miss it. You ever just want to play catch, let me know.”
“I always want to play catch,” I say with a chuckle.
He shrugs. “How about now? I’ll get in my sprints in a lot more fun way than just running lines.”
“Sure,” I say.
We warm up a bit, just standing still and tossing the ball back and forth. When he lines up next to me, he calls out an obscure play. The fact that he knows this play as a defensive player impresses me.
And when he takes off downfield, so does his speed. Which is probably why he ended up in a position on the other side of the game, guarding our opponent’s wide receivers. That happens a lot in football—guys switching up positions as their bodies and abilities change and grow.
Back in middle school, one of my friends was a bigger kid. He seemed to spend two years packing on weight before a huge growth spurt. Which meant he was tasked to play on the offensive line. After his growth spurt, he stayed about the same weight but shot up, like, four inches, and suddenly, he had the body of a tight end, which was the position he played all through high school.
And an athletic guy like Treyvon, who went to a small school, probably was tasked to make plays on both sides of the ball.
I take a two-step drop back and launch the ball downfield to where the receiver is supposed to catch it. It’s actually a tough play to make because I’m throwing to the left side of the field as he runs toward the end zone. If someone were guarding him, he’d typically just look over his shoulder and see where the ball was to make the completion. And I’m impressed when he doesn’t stop and turn toward me, but rather looks over his shoulder and adjusts his speed, so the ball sort of just drops into his arms. Which also isn’t easy. It’s much easier to make a catch when you have your body behind the ball to help stop it.
He’s grinning as he sprints back.
“You trying to test me on the playbook?” I tease.
He laughs and says, “That was fun.”
“And a damn good catch,” I tell him.
“Thank you. Let’s take turns. You pick the play this time.”
I choose one of my favorites—well, actually, it’s Damon’s favorite—and since Trey is enjoying the sprints and I’m enjoying throwing the kind of long bombs that win championships, I think I’m gonna have fun with this, too.
