The Greatest of These (Sequel to Kansas Summer) -- Faith

November 11, 2003

--Colin

I show up to the first practice of my coaching career unsure of what to expect, but confident.  Already, I see the young men warming up, stretching, and throwing the frisbee back and forth a little.  Mr. Kenner and another man stand to the side, watching everything; I walk towards them.

It is Mr. Kenner that reognizes me first.  "Colin!" he exclaims, "So good to see you!  How've you been?"

I nod my head.  "It's been a difficult time these past few months adjusting to married life, but I am doing alright."

"Charlie, this is Colin King, the captain of the '98 team that I told you about..  He's here to replace Jimmy," Mr. Kenner introduces me to the gentleman standing next to him.

"How do you do, sir?" I reply, shaking the man's hand.

"Name's Charlie Rush.  I'm the new athletic director.  Mike says you were the best Frisbee player in your time."

"That might be a litle exaggerated," I cut in, but Mr. Rush continues.

"I'm new to this part of the country; I've never heard about a high school without a football team, and I have certainly never seen a high school where the crown sport is Frisbee.  It intrigues me.  I've been busy, so I've never seen a practice before, so today's my first time.  I'd like to see how y'all play this game."

"You won't be disappointed, sir," I reply.  Turning to Mr. Kenner, I ask him: "How are we doing this season?"  My old coach's face turns down.

"We've not won a single game this year.  The team cohesion here just doesn't work.  We have two good guys, Barnes and Jaffry, but they don't trust anyone to catch what they throw.  Well, to be honest, the rest of these boys can't read the disc very good."  

I shake my head.  I remember how easy it seemed to play back in high school, but then again, we played with each other for years.  I don't know any of these boys, but I have to if I want to help them succeed.

"Are they warm?" I ask Mr. Kenner.  He nods his head.  "Alright," I say.  "Here goes nothing.  Yabba Dabba Doo."  I pull my new Goodland High School Ultimate Frisbee windbreaker close to me and walk down toward the mass of twenty or so boys.

In the background, I hear "What does that mean?"  "Oh, that's just a Colin thing."

Smiling, I yell for the team to gather around.  "Alright, team.  Before we begin, I want to introduce myself: my name is Colin King, but you will call me Coach King.  I've played Ultimate Frisbee since probably before you could walk, so I know what I'm talking about.  I've heard that you haven't been winning games, which could be caused by any number of things.  I ask that you just cooperate with me throughout this season.  Our goal isn't to win more games, but to grow together as a team.  The first one will come after that.  Now, I want you to tell me your names, starting with this young man right here."  They give me their names, and after they are done, I ask them to assemble at one end of the field.

They all obey and are soon at one end of the endzone.  "Okay!" I yell, "I want you each to run to the end zone on the other side of the field as fast as you can when I blow the whistle!"  I put the whistle to my lips, looking as if I will blow it, but don't.  Some of the players make a false start.  While they reset themselves, I blow the whistle.  Everyone takes off.  I watch for the ones who sprint the fastest, the ones who go the furthest, and the ones who pace themselves.  Each is important in a game. 

When they get to the other side, I tell them to do it again.  While they run, I yell to Mr. Kenner to toss me a Frisbee.  

"For this next drill, I want you to line up single file on the goal line and when I throw the Frisbee, one at a time, each of you will catch the Frisbee and throw it back to me.  Easy enough?"  The team nods.  I blow the whistle and we begin.

Of course, I don't make it easy.  For some of them, I throw it far down field, some of them I throw high in the air where the wind carries it wherever it chooses, and some I throw high or low.  Not all of them catch the disc, but as the drill progresses and everyone starts to get the idea of it.  I decide to change drills.

"Now," I boom, "We are going to play a game.  I know that there are twenty of you here, so that's ten people to a team and more people to play defense against.  It will be a challenge."

I number them off by twos down the line, and they all get in position.  The team with the player named Barnes I hand the Frisbee to.  "Barnes, I want you to pull to start this."  I toss the Frisbee to him and observe him as he takes his steps back and then carries his momentum forwards, channeling it into the disc.  For the most part, it is a flat throw, and goes about two-thirds of the way down the field.  Not bad, but improvements could be made.  The first person on the other team to get the disc picks it  up and looks wildly about for someone to throw it to.  I blow my whislte.

"Hold on!" I yell.  "Whatcha gonna do, son?  Everyone freeze!"  I jog over to him, petrified that he's done something wrong.  Upon reaching him, I hold out my arm, showing him the field.  "Tell me what your plan is."

The player, Simmons, stutters, "I think  I'm gonna throw it to Nick."

"Alright, where's Nick?"  He points.  I see a tall guy standing in the back, guarded by two other players in close proximity.

"Why would you not want to do that?" I ask, "He's got two people on him."  I look again.  There is a person on the left side about 10 yards from Simmons who isn't guarded.  "Throw it to that person," I whisper.

Simmons looks incredulously at me.  "But he can't catch!"

"And if he does?" I suggest, a little sternness in my voice.  Simmons nods, understanding me.  I return to the sidelines.  "Unfreeze!"  I watch as Simmons squirts the disc through to the person I told him to.  I am pleased to see that he catches the Frisbee.  I clap.  "Good, good!  Now take a second to look and see hwo you have open!  And throw!"

I return to the feed store, greeted by the sight of my love, who has just finished ringing up the last customer.  As I walk in, I turn the "Open" sign to "Closed".

As the he walks away, Jenna notices me.  She rests her elbows on the counter, propping her head up on her hands.  "I'm sorry, sir, but we are closed," she grins.

"That's alright," I tease back.  "I have everything I need.  I just came to check you out."

Jenna leans back and laughs, mouth open wide and ponytail jerking up and down.  "Oh, Colin," she sighs, walking over to me and wrapping her arms around me.  I kiss the top of her head and stroke her hair.

"I hope you never lose your sense of wonder.  You get your fill to eat, but always keep the hunger"

Jenna and I share a look.  "We really have to close and get back home," she tells me.

"Closing will go faster with two people."

"What about dinner?"

"Dinner can wait."  My left hand slides down the curves of my love and comes to a rest above her backside.  I take her right hand in mine and hold it at neck heighth.  A moment later, I feel Jenna's hand on my shoulder.

"One, two, three, four," I whisper, leading her through the familiar motions of the box step.

"Promise me you'll give faith a fighting chance.  And when you get the choice to sit it out or dance..."

"I hope you dance," we whisper, echoing the words of Lee Ann Womack that filter through the old radio next to the window.  Nothing else is said for the remainder of the song.  It's just Jenna and me, dancing in the middle of a dusty feed store that smells of alfalfa and leather.  Two sweaty bodies taking three and a half minutes to enjoy the familiar embrace of one another after being apart for what seems like an eternity.  I whisper a short prayer, thanking God for the intimacy  we are blessed with and asking to keep us this close forever.  Forever and ever.  Amen.