Page 20 of Fore-Ever Yours

We learned the small, yet significant, things about each other, like our favorite ice cream (I like cookies and cream and he likes vanilla.). I learned his favorite color is green (mine is yellow) and that he loves dogs (I do too. I had a dalmatian who grew up right alongside me.). He drummed his hands on the steering wheel as oldies blared through the speakers. Another thing we share in common: our love for music from the eighties.

We talked about strategy for his socials and what I will require from him. He wasn’t fond of most of it. I’ll have to work with what I get. I’m still convinced he’ll start to cave and enjoy the process of creating content, at least a little bit.

Now, we’re standing in a large field with kids of all ages, all buzzing with excitement. It’s filled with different game stations and a large makeshift stage with huge speakers in each corner. There’s a lively atmosphere that’s both infectious and overwhelming.

There are athletes of all sports scattered across the field, teaching the kids different techniques specific to their sport. Matthew is showing a group of kids the proper stance for their swing. There are a few baseball and football players tossing balls back and forth. It’s amazing to see athletes coming together to teach and give their time to the youth.

I’m on the sidelines snapping pictures of him as he high fives one of the boys. Matthew told me all about the Play It Forward Organization and how, even while traveling, he takes time to visit the kids at local chapters, wherever he may be. He’s helped kids with their golf swing or taught them life skills, like how to tie a tie or how to fix a flat tire.

I should ask him to show me. I don’t know how to do either.

A man swooshes past me and runs onto the stage.

“Play It Forward, baby! We’re changing lives, one awkward hug at a time,” he shouts into the microphone, causing the kids to gather around him like bears to honey.

He’s tall and lanky, sporting a Play It Forward windbreaker, a fanny pack, and mismatched socks.

I’m trying to place why he seems familiar when Matthew appears next to me.

He leans his head toward me. “That’s the director of Play It Forward, Miles O’Donnell, but everyone calls him Milo.”

“Ah. I saw him on the organization’s website. I was wondering why he looked familiar.”

Milo’s voice booms through the speaker. “Are you ready to continue the fun?”

The crowd erupts into cheers. Milo unzips his fanny pack, pulls out three small oranges, and begins juggling them.

Matthew chuckles, shaking his head. “Milo’s a bit of a character, but he has a heart of gold.”

“And a fanny pack,” I add, snorting.

Matthew nudges me with his shoulder as he tries to hide his laughter.

I snap a few photos before turning back to Matthew. “Does he do that often?”

Matthew shrugs, an amused smile spreading across his face. “Only on days ending with ‘y.’”

I roll my eyes as Matthew chuckles beside me, the sound warm and low in my ear. I snap another picture, this time of Matthew laughing at the spectacle before us. It’s candid, raw, and genuine; a side of him his fans don’t get to see.

The oranges come tumbling down, and Milo picks them up with a bow to the crowd, who respond with another cheer.

“Are you ready for the first game?”

“Yeah!” the kids yell in unison.

“Partner up…it’s three-legged race time! And adults, it’s your turn next!”

There’s a collective groan from the adults at his announcement—apparently, this has happened before. Matthew glances at me, then raises an eyebrow in question. I shrug and grin at him.

We help pass out bandanas to the kids and watch as they race together. Once all the kids have had their turn, it’s time for the adults. I partner with a mom who’s closer to my height. And Matthew pairs up with her husband, who’s almost as tall as Matthew.

He steps beside me with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Ready to lose?”

“I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you,” I tell him, hooking my arm around my partner’s waist as we get ready.

Milo’s voice rings out over a microphone. “On your mark...get set...GO!”

And we’re off. My partner and I stumble awkwardly when we first try to move together, but we start to find a rhythm.

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