Page 24 of Playing Games

As the stampede of kids comes to a stop in the middle of the field, Sean Phillips and his wife Six running behind them with a camera and microphone, Winnie and Lexi clap, and Quinn, Teeny, and I stop just to the side, our arms crossed over our chests. The kids’ parents begin to fill up the lower levels of the stadium seats, and the other Mavs’ staffers who help run the camp start to set things up on the sidelines.

Wes steps up in front of the excited group in his jeans and expensive button-down shirt, offering high fives to those who can jump high enough to hit his hand. “Welcome, everyone!” Wes says on a shout, quieting the boisterous and adorable little crowd effectively. “Thanks for coming out to the Mavericks’ tenth annual kids camp! I’m Wes Lancaster, the owner of the team, and behind me are my wife Winnie and daughter Lexi. Winnie is also the team physician for the Mavs. Though, I dohave some disappointing news that she’ll be retiring after this year.”

“Booo!” the lot of us yell, the loudest of which come from Quinn, Teeny, and Sean.

“I know, I know. It’s the end of an amazing era. But I’m confident we’ll find someone to fill her shoes who will be with us, hopefully, all the way to your generation of players,” Wes tells the kids. Sean comes to stand next to Quinn and Teeny, while Six stays on the other side to get a good camera angle, and Wes continues with the introductions. “Now, these guys, I’m sure you recognize…” He pauses, and within seconds, the kids start to scream and hoot and holler toward us.

“Quinn!”

“Teeny!”

“Oh my God, Sean Phillips is standing right in front of me!”

“QBpie!”

It’s a smattering of yells and a jumble of different affections, but without any doubt, it proves the kids do, indeed, know just who the retired Mavericks players are.

It’s not a surprise, given their interest in a Mavericks football camp, but what does shock me is the number of kids who start to yell my name, unprompted.

“Boden!”

“Blake!”

“Oh my God, I didn’t know Blake Boden was going to be here!”

Quinn turns to me with a waggle of his eyebrows, mouthing, “See? Your year.”

I wave to the kids with a smile, jerking my chin up when one little boy calls my name again.

“And yes, it seems you know him too,” Wes says and flashes a smile in my direction. “Blake Boden is the quarterback at Dickson University and has generously volunteered his time to help you guys learn this year.”

My eyes can’t decide where to look, bouncing around the crowd at all the kids and occasionally looking to where Lexi stands beside her stepdad. When I see she’s looking in my direction, her eyes focused in that analytical way I’ve seen so many times before, I can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking right now.

Is she mad I’m here? Is shehappyI’m here?

Has she finally decided that she should give in and marry me?

Surely the latter is over the top, but the fact that she’s not tossing glare-daggers my way is all the response I need.

Add in the excitement as the kids scream about getting to work with me, and a warm wave of pride crashes over my chest. Becoming the guy people look up to in a sport I love is an accomplishment in and of itself. Whether I end up making the pros or not, I’m certain this is an experience I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

Pulling a ball from the ground at my side, I pass a quick ten-yard lateral to the sideline, where a waiting boy in a Mavericks camp shirt and black jersey shorts waits with his hands up. He completes the catch with the ball tucked to his chest and then does a quick shuffle with his feet to turn upfield. His moves are impressive, reminding me of what I was like when I was just becoming obsessed with the game at eight years old.

Lexi holds court with a group of other kids, talking shop and statistics for pretty much the entire past roster of Mavericks’ football.

I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to her yet today, but as things wind down, I’m hoping I can catch her before she leaves. Her highlight reel video at the beginning of the day was so fucking well done, including a huge tribute to memorialized soldiers at the end and everything.

Graphics and videography may not be her main skill set, but I’m starting to think there isn’t anything her brilliant mind can’t do.

I pick up another ball and repeat the process for the last two kids in line, shouting encouragement as they each make their catch, the second of which wasn’t even that suitable of a pass.

“Good hands!”

They beam under the praise and run to join the group in front of Lexi, tossing their balls back to me on the way. I net them all back into the bag, pull the drawstring, and then follow them over.

Quinn, Sean, Six, Teeny, Wes, and Winnie have already left for the day, so it’s just me, Lexi, and the kids.

The last time we found ourselves alone in a football stadium together, the night ended in a kiss. I can only hope this time goes as well.

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