Chapter 10: A Whole Lotta Worthwhile

By the end of the following week, I was falling-down exhausted, both physically and mentally. Riding herd over sixty kids between the ages of seven and twelve wasn't the fun and games I had thought it would be when I accepted Duane's invitation to join his staff. But, on the other hand, I got to watch Duane, Nicholas, James, Katrina, and Tasha in action, and even provide a little help as they lectured, cajoled, whistled, directed, pointed, stopped, persuaded, maneuvered, and otherwise controlled the swarm, and actually taught some soccer in those moments in between. Davey and Kip were lost to me in the shuffle, even though they tended to try to hang around me the first day. By the end, they had assimilated into the group so well that I hardly got to say anything to them all week long.

On Friday, Duane took all of his assistants out for a nice dinner after the clinic had finished. I borrowed my brother Mike's car, and met them downtown at The Great Midwest Steakhouse, one of the most expensive restaurants in town. The others were already there, looking at their menus, when I arrived.

"Ah, Sean, welcome," said Duane. "No date tonight? I thought you would bring a girlfriend."

I shrugged as I sat down at one of the two empty seats at the table. "I'm not really dating anyone right now," I said.

"Really?" Nicholas queried in surprise. "Sorry, I just thought..." He let it drop. I wondered what he had heard over the past three weeks.

"Don't mind him, Sean," interjected Tasha. "Nick sometimes lets his mouth do his thinking for him." She looked over at Nick affectionately, and patted his hand to lessen the sting of her comment. "But he's a loveable old bear, and he means well," she added.

So, I thought to myself, Nicholas and Tasha are an item, it seems. But I didn't say anything.

The waiter took our orders for drinks and appetizers, and when the drinks arrived, Duane asked for our attention.

"If I may, I would like to propose a toast. To my friends, here at table, you have made these weeks fly by effortlessly. I could never have run these clinics without your help. Nicholas, my trusted assistant, who has been a part of my support staff for so long, and will be returning with me to Germany; Katrina, the lovely midfielder, returning to UCLA for her senior year; James, an extraordinary goalkeeper, who, I am certain, will enjoy a very successful professional career; Tasha, who is due to return to her duties at Arizona, I hope you discovered some new talent for your future teams, my dear; to my brothers, Yuri and Anik, who, even though they are not here with us tonight, still have been an integral part of the success of these past weeks; and, of course, to the newest member of our staff, the young defensive specialist, Sean, who has so many wonderful games yet to play over the next several years. You are, each and every one, special to me. Salud!"

We all clinked our glasses together, thanking Duane for his kindness.

"Ah, but I am not through yet, my friends." He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out several envelopes. As he passed them out to each of us, he continued, "Here is a small token of my gratitude for the help you have provided. And, of course, if you are ever in Bremen," he added with a smile, "My wife Francesca and I would be honored if you would stay with us."

The conversation around the table broke down into reminiscences about the clinics they had run, both here and in other locales. I sat and listened, content to sit and enjoy hearing the stories. Even though I was, by several years, the youngest person at the table, and even, in soccer terms, the least experienced person at the table, I wasn't uncomfortable, since everybody effortlessly included me in their circle of conversation. I really felt as if I were a comrade, a fellow player of the game.

Jake Lehigh had been working out at the YMCA gym, trying to muscle up for football, and the time he spent with free weights was making a difference. He played tackle, on both sides of the ball, so he felt that he needed to work on his strength conditioning to be a better player. He had grown quite a bit over the past couple of years, and had bulked up from his workouts, and he now was a very big guy. For a kid who was just past his sophomore year of high school, he was nearly six feet tall, and weighed over two hundred pounds. All summer he had been bugging me to join him at the gym, and I had been trying to get him to go running with me. He hated to run, and I wasn't a weightlifting kind of guy, so we didn't get together much for a workout.

We finally made a deal, and decided that I would work out with him at the gym so I could work on my upper-body strength, and then we would go for a run so we could work on his wind and his stamina.

He showed me how to use the machines in the exercise room, moving with me from machine to machine. He figured out a good rotation, and followed me around, explaining each machine's functions and the muscle groups they were designed to strengthen. We did two rotations around the room, and by the time I was done, my arms were shaking and sweat was running down my back. Jake still looked like he had barely started his workout, even though he usually doubled the amount of weight when he used the machines. When we were done with the machines, we went back into the locker room to change into fresh socks and running shoes, and then we headed outside to pound the pavement. I had mapped out an easy three-mile loop, staying on relatively flat ground, to ease him into it, and we headed out at an easy jog.