The Comeback

Sprints

After the doctor, my grandma, and I finished up, I dropped my grandma off at home, and I headed over to the field for some practice drills with coach.

"James!" Coach yelled. "Anything new? What did the doctor say?"

"I got cleared for cutting today," I said.

"That's great, son. We'll get some cutting drills set up for you, but first can you run the forty to see if you've gotten any faster since last time?"

"Yes sir."

I crouched down low in a track runner's stance and got ready to run. As soon as I heard Coach's voice yell 'go,' I sprinted down the field as fast as I could. However, I felt slow. I was going as fast as I could, but nowhere near as fast as I could go before blowing out my knee.

"Nice," Coach said. "Atta boy. You're 0.18 seconds faster than last week."

"Coach, I know I'm faster, but I still feel really slow. How much faster did I used to be?"

"Listen, son, things are different now. You're 1.83 seconds slower, and you're just going to have to adjust.

"Will I ever be as fast as I was before?"

"In my experience, probably not as fast as you were before, but you still might regain some speed. You're already faster than last week."

"But I'm not going to regain all of it?"

"Probably not."

I looked down the field at the end zone and goal post. My speed is—was—a huge part of my game. Whenever I got in trouble or felt pressure, I could use my speed to extend plays or just run past guys, but now, I'm too slow and probably not agile enough to do any of that.

"James?" Coach asked. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said as I took off my helmet.

"Why are you taking off your helmet?"

"I'll see you later Coach," I said walking off the field.

"James, get your ass back here. We're not done."

I just kept walking off the field without looking back.