01-17-2020, 12:15 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-17-2020, 12:15 AM by SemiCharmedMike.)
[div align=\\\"center\\\"]This Summers Forecast[/div]
[div align=\\\"center\\\"]A Look into the Life of rookie Holden Summers[/div]
[div align=\\\"center\\\"]By Riley Harris[/div]
The day I traveled to Sunnydale, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. This modest sized California town was known for its cloudless skies, missing person rates and having more graveyards than parks. Yet when I met up with 22-year-old Holden Summers, I didn’t see anything but life.
Holden Summers is a football player. He started at a young and quickly became obsessed with it. The sport was entwined with his life all the way through junior high, high school and then college where he attended the University of Minnesota. He quickly became their best linebacker and someone the entire state watched. Near the end of his last year of college, he received word that scouts from the NSFL had been watching him. This led to an exciting time for Holden where he began communicating with managers from various NSFL minor league teams. The day I went and visited Holden Summers was the day he was to be drafted.
I pulled into Holden’s driveway shortly before 7:30AM. The two-story home sitting on Revello drive felt welcoming as I turned off my ignition. I had asked Holden a few weeks ago if I could interview him for an article. My plan was to call him and ask a few questions about his time with the University of Minnesota and how he felt about the upcoming draft. His answer was “No.” There was a pause on the line as I didn’t know what to say, but Holden then continued “I don’t like interviews over the phone. It’s too impersonal. I’ll be home for the draft. Why don’t you come interview me in person?” His voice had a rough composure to it that had me replying “Sounds great!” before I could even think of what to say.
You see, Holden Summers is kind of famous in Sunnydale California. Not only did he help his football team win the State Championship four years ago, he also helped the community in various other ways. He volunteered to help authorities search for missing persons, he assisted the Mayor through the Hospital Crisis dilemma and he even helped his classmates defeat an evil sorcerer who was trying to take over the world. Holden Summers seemed to have been involved in many things that the town had to endure during his life in Sunnydale. When he left to play football in Minnesota, the town felt like they lost a part of their identity. The chance for me to not only interview him, but interview him in person in Sunnydale, was something that had me excited.
I got out of my car and before I could even approach the front door, Holden had walked out to greet me. “Hello,” he said with a gigantic grin. “You must be Riley.” He took my hand and shook it, his smile not wavering.
“Hi Mr. Summers, thank you so much for letting me interview you.” I said to him.
“Please call me Holden. You ready to run?” He said, his smile still perched upon his face.
“Run? No I...” I stopped and looked over Holden’s outfit. Sleeveless tee, gym shorts and running shoes. He asked me to be here this early to not just interview him, but to live part of his day with him. Great. I hate running. “Great” I added, correcting my composure, “I love running.”
You may now be imagining me running in a suit and dress shoes with a notepad and voice recorder in my hands. Well you’d be right. I was not equipped for a jog let alone a run. Despite that I wasn’t about to this opportunity pass me by. “We’ll keep it short today,” Holden told me. It made me feel a bit better.
We had been running for a few minutes when I realized something interesting was happening. As we made our way down the street, Holden’s neighbors were waving to him from the windows and saying hi from their yards. I swear it felt like they were waiting for him. They must have been. Did he want me to come with him so I could see how much this town, his neighbors, loved him? It’s not like I didn’t already know that. Between breaths, I had to ask, “When did you get back home from Minnesota?”
“Last night.” Holden’s responded quickly. He focused on his breathing.
“When was the last time you ran here?” I continued, my pace slowing down a bit. My legs were getting a bit sore now.
“Last summer,” was another quick response from Holden. If he thought that was a weird question, he didn’t make it obvious. The truth is, I wanted to know if his neighbors were out specifically to say hi and wave or if they just happened to do so when they saw him. I knew he was popular in town but encouraging Sunnydale residents to wake up and wait for him seemed a bit crazy. It must have been a coincidence. I’m sure those 13 people who greeted and waved to him would have greeted and waved to anyone else. Maybe?
Holden kept his promise and before too long we were back at his house. My dress shirt was now complete with sweat stains. He invited me inside to enjoy some breakfast with him.
His house was clean and orderly. It appeared to be decorated in a rustic feel with warm colors and antique looking art. The walls were filled with family photos of him, his parents and other family members. “Are your parents home?” I asked.
Holden led me into the kitchen and turned towards me. “They work early, over at the hospital. I won’t see them until I’m at the Bronze later.”
The Bronze was Sunnydale’s premiere nightclub in town. It’s where the residents, especially young adults, go to socialize and to listen to live music. Tonight, Holden will meet his family and his friends there to watch the DSFL Draft live. I wasn’t surprised if the entire town showed up. It will be the place to be that night.
“So what’s for breakfast?” I asked Holden.
He smiled at me again, this time with a spatula in his hand. “I hope you like omelets. I am the master at making them.”
“I love omelets.”
“Good,” he responded, “If this whole football thing doesn’t pan out for me, maybe I can get a show on Food Network making them.” He laughed as he cracked a few eggs. The way he worked was efficient and quick. I’m pretty sure he would have had that first omelet done in less than a minute if the stove could have kept up.
“What kind of omelets are you making?” I asked.
“I enjoy a wide variety of omelets. I can eat veggie omelets, meaty omelets, buffalo omelets, even goat cheese omelets.” He picked up the pan and walked over to where I was now seated. He placed a plate down and slid the omelet onto it. “But today, we are going with my favorite. It’s simple yet delicious.”
I looked down at the omelet and my mouth started to water. It looked incredibly delicious. The eggs were fluffy. The cheese on top was melted. And the bacon. Oh the bacon.
“Turkey and cheddar omelet with bacon bits sprinkled on top.” He said with the satisfaction of a masterchef. He handed me a fork and watched patiently as I cut a piece and took a bite. The bacon especially didn’t disappoint.
“This is fantastic,” I said once my mouth was empty.
He grinned and added, “And it’s low on carbs. That’s important especially when trying to stay in peak shape.” He turned around and began making his own omelet. I felt a bit uncomfortable eating while he cooked but I didn’t want to be rude. Plus, I don’t think I’ve had an omelet that good since my mom made them for me as a child. Before too long, Holden had scooped up his own omelet and sat down beside me.
After we had both finished our breakfast, I wanted to ask Holden a bit about his relationship with football. Everyone can look at his stats and watch clips of his performances, but a deeper look into his process seemed necessary.
“Holden, at what age did you know you wanted to be a football player?” I asked him.
That trademark Holden Summers smile returned. “I knew from the moment i held a football for the first time. I can still remember that first touch of the leather on my fingers. The bumps, the laces. It felt so nice and so beautiful, if that makes sense. It felt like I was meant to hold that ball.”
His answer made me think of how often Holden had tried to intercept passes. It had gotten him into trouble in high school a few times with him ignoring defensive plays just for a shot to catch the football before his opponent can. That behavior almost entirely disappeared once he started playing for the Golden Gophers, but he still tries to catch the ball when he’s within reach.
“You’ve primarily played linebacker since you’ve started playing the sport. Is there a reason you didn’t want to try and be a quarterback?” I asked.
“Yeah, I have crap aim!” He replied with a laugh. “And I’m not entirely joking. The way my brain works, it’s easier for me to analyze a situation and break it down. When I play defense, that offensive line is a problem for me to solve. When the parts begin to move, my instinct takes over and I search for the best possible solution. Hopefully that solution is a tackle.”
I smiled at Holden and asked my next question, “You’ve had a few critics in the media lately, including some scouts, claim that you are a very average player. What would you say back to them?”
Holden’s smile faltered for a moment, but it did not disappear. He then answered, “I appreciate the fact that they looked at me at all. That means I’m on their radar. This draft is happening tonight and people are talking about me. Also, stats and scouting reports are only one part of the game. I can promise you, promise my fans, my family and even promise those scouts...that nobody works harder than me. Every day I put my body and mind through training to get better. That person they scouted and wrote about is not the person sitting here with you today. And I won’t be the same person tomorrow. I work hard to get better every single day.”
I let his words hang in the air for a few seconds. They were deep and honest and it felt like he needed the brief silence as well. I could tell his words were important to him and they deserved that respect. Holden Summers was passionate about this sport and he wasn’t ever going to stop striving to be better.
I finally broke the silence. “The DSFL draft is tonight, as you know. Are there any teams that stand out that you’d prefer to get drafted to?”
“As cliché as it sounds, I’ll be thrilled to be drafted to any team.” He was back to business. His composure returned and his smile was back at 100%. “I’ve had some really great conversations with a few of the teams, like Tijuana, Norfolk and Minnesota, but they’ve all been a pleasure to speak with.”
“You have a fan base already in Minnesota since you played for University of Minnesota. How great would it be to play in front of them some more?”
Holden looked over at the fridge. I followed his gaze and saw a photo of him in his Golden Gopher equipment. “Maroon and gold flows through my veins as much as this town does. If I am fortunate enough to get drafted by the Grey Ducks, I’ll consider myself lucky.” He looked back at me and continued, “I have some pretty committed fans out there! It would be cool to see them in the stands at the Grey Ducks stadium.”
Before I could ask a question, Holden got up and took the dirty dishes with him. He placed them in the sink and walked out of the room. Over his shoulder he enthusiastically said, “Hey, follow me! I want to show you something.”
So I did.
Holden led me into his garage. It was mostly empty except for a work bench and a car underneath a dusty old sheet. He walked over to it and turned to me. “You’re probably going to think this is dumb, but it’s a good way to get inside my brain and see how I work.” He smiled again and pulled the sheet off. What appeared was a-
Well, not what I expected.
“This is my grandfather’s El Camino.” he said as he walked along the old car. I couldn’t help but think, You mean what’s left of an El Camino? The car was missing two doors, some windows and the paint was a mismatch of blue, red and what appeared to be orange. “I know it doesn’t look like much but the beauty is on the inside.”
I walked over to Holden as he opened the hood. I peered inside and saw a shiny engine free of oil and rust. I looked at Holden, a bit confused as to why he was showing me this.
He caught on to my mannerisms and continued, “This engine has been a pet project of mine. I have dismantled and repaired it over 20 times.”
I was a bit shocked. “Why would you do that?” I asked.
“To get better. It trains my mind to focus and it trains my hands to be efficient. Every time I take it apart, I time myself. Every time I put it back together, I time myself. I can now do it 10 times faster than the first time I did it.”
I was finally starting to understand why he’s showing me this. Despite the fact that we had changed topics back in the kitchen, he still wanted to talk about what those scouts had said about him. He knew he wasn’t average and he wanted me to see how he can improve himself.
“The way I approach this engine is the way I approach the game. Every time I’m on the field, I push myself to get faster and better just like I do with this.” He brought his eyes back to mine. “I have no end goal because I don’t believe you ever stop getting better. Not until you die,’ he added.
“Thank you.” I said.
“For what?” He asked.
“This is highly personal to you. This is your grandfather’s car and you’re sharing it with me and my audience.” I answered. It was true. This hobby of his was borderline obsessive yet he was willing to share it with me to help us all understand him better.
Holden nodded and looked back at the engine. “You’re welcome,” he said gently.
The morning was dissolving into midday now and I wanted to let him get on with the rest of his day uninterrupted. He had already been a great host and he shared more with me than I imagined he would. It was time to say goodbye to Holden Summers.
He led me to the front door as I started saying goodbye. We shook hands but before he let go, he looked at me and added “You better come to the Bronze tonight. For the draft party!” I was surprised by the invite. He and I had just met a few hours prior and here I was, being invited to one of the most special moments that he will ever have in his life.
I nodded and told him I’d go. I then thanked him and left.
That night the energy was unreal. Walking into the Bronze was like entering a whole new dimension filled with high octane energy, flashing lights and thumping music. Sunnydale is known for some shady night activities, but the Bronze was anything but that. This place was nothing but positive energy.
I didn’t want to intrude into Holden’s night too much even if I was invited. I took this time to get to know his family and friends instead.
The first couple I approached, after getting a very strong drink, were the Summers. In their mid-forties, Amos and Joyce have lived in Sunnydale their whole lives; Amos a resident cardiologist at the local hospital and Joyce a nurse practitioner. Their expertise could tell you almost everything you need to know about maintaining health. It was in these good hands that Holden grew up.
They were polite when I introduced myself. I quickly saw that Holden got his smile from his mother. They apologized for not being able to participate earlier in the day but I waved it off. I did take the opportunity to ask them about their son, though.
“What was Holden like growing up?” I asked them.
They shared a brief smile before Amos, Holden’s father, answered, “He was always on the move. I still remember how he was practically running from the moment he started walking.” His father chuckled a bit. “We tried to keep up when we could, and when we couldn’t, we made sure he knew we’d be there for him.”
Joyce added, “He was a good kid. He had this charisma growing up that just drew in his peers and even the adults around him.” I nodded and looked around the nightclub. There were a lot of people there and all of them were there for him. That charisma had not faded in the 22 years of his life.
“What do you hope he gains from tonight?” I followed up.
Joyce took no time to answer, “I hope he gets everything he’s hoped for. He’s worked so hard and we are so proud of him. I just want to make sure he keeps that smile on his face.”
Amos just nodded beside her in agreement. I thanked them for their time and let them get back to the celebrations. Over the next half hour, I walked around the Bronze and asked people what they thought of Holden. I got many “He’s the best!” and “Nobody plays ball at his level!” but one answer stood above all others.
“He’s my best friend,” Lefty Louis said to me. Lefty Louis was another player in this year’s DSFL draft. He’s a talented kicker and he’s been Holden’s good friend for over two years.
“Do you hope you and Holden end up on the same team?” I asked, curious. He nodded.
“It would be awesome to take this next step with him. I think we are destined to do a lot of great things together.” He replied. You could tell how strong their friendship was. Ultimately Lefty would not be drafted by the same team that drafted Holden, but I have a feeling that won’t matter.
At the start of the draft, I made my way up to Holden. “Good luck,” I said to him over the noise. He smiled at me as the TV announced, “The first overall pick by the Norfolk Seawolves will be...Cal Lidous!”
Holden shot his arms into the air and screamed, “Cal Lidous?! I love that guy!” He looked around him and then back at me. His smile remained on his face as he state, “This is it. It’s officially happening.”
Holden Summers was drafted 6 picks later at 7th overall by the Minnesota Grey Ducks. This gives him the opportunity to continue to play in front of the same fans as he did when he wore the maroon and gold of the Golden Gophers. If he was hoping for another team, he did not show it. When his name was called, the entire place erupted in cheers. When he got the phone call from the Grey Duck general manager, the smile on his face continued to shine just as it did when I first met him earlier that day. Amos and Joyce have nothing to fear.
We will all be seeing that smile for years to come.
[div align=\\\"center\\\"]A Look into the Life of rookie Holden Summers[/div]
[div align=\\\"center\\\"]By Riley Harris[/div]
The day I traveled to Sunnydale, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. This modest sized California town was known for its cloudless skies, missing person rates and having more graveyards than parks. Yet when I met up with 22-year-old Holden Summers, I didn’t see anything but life.
Holden Summers is a football player. He started at a young and quickly became obsessed with it. The sport was entwined with his life all the way through junior high, high school and then college where he attended the University of Minnesota. He quickly became their best linebacker and someone the entire state watched. Near the end of his last year of college, he received word that scouts from the NSFL had been watching him. This led to an exciting time for Holden where he began communicating with managers from various NSFL minor league teams. The day I went and visited Holden Summers was the day he was to be drafted.
I pulled into Holden’s driveway shortly before 7:30AM. The two-story home sitting on Revello drive felt welcoming as I turned off my ignition. I had asked Holden a few weeks ago if I could interview him for an article. My plan was to call him and ask a few questions about his time with the University of Minnesota and how he felt about the upcoming draft. His answer was “No.” There was a pause on the line as I didn’t know what to say, but Holden then continued “I don’t like interviews over the phone. It’s too impersonal. I’ll be home for the draft. Why don’t you come interview me in person?” His voice had a rough composure to it that had me replying “Sounds great!” before I could even think of what to say.
You see, Holden Summers is kind of famous in Sunnydale California. Not only did he help his football team win the State Championship four years ago, he also helped the community in various other ways. He volunteered to help authorities search for missing persons, he assisted the Mayor through the Hospital Crisis dilemma and he even helped his classmates defeat an evil sorcerer who was trying to take over the world. Holden Summers seemed to have been involved in many things that the town had to endure during his life in Sunnydale. When he left to play football in Minnesota, the town felt like they lost a part of their identity. The chance for me to not only interview him, but interview him in person in Sunnydale, was something that had me excited.
I got out of my car and before I could even approach the front door, Holden had walked out to greet me. “Hello,” he said with a gigantic grin. “You must be Riley.” He took my hand and shook it, his smile not wavering.
“Hi Mr. Summers, thank you so much for letting me interview you.” I said to him.
“Please call me Holden. You ready to run?” He said, his smile still perched upon his face.
“Run? No I...” I stopped and looked over Holden’s outfit. Sleeveless tee, gym shorts and running shoes. He asked me to be here this early to not just interview him, but to live part of his day with him. Great. I hate running. “Great” I added, correcting my composure, “I love running.”
You may now be imagining me running in a suit and dress shoes with a notepad and voice recorder in my hands. Well you’d be right. I was not equipped for a jog let alone a run. Despite that I wasn’t about to this opportunity pass me by. “We’ll keep it short today,” Holden told me. It made me feel a bit better.
We had been running for a few minutes when I realized something interesting was happening. As we made our way down the street, Holden’s neighbors were waving to him from the windows and saying hi from their yards. I swear it felt like they were waiting for him. They must have been. Did he want me to come with him so I could see how much this town, his neighbors, loved him? It’s not like I didn’t already know that. Between breaths, I had to ask, “When did you get back home from Minnesota?”
“Last night.” Holden’s responded quickly. He focused on his breathing.
“When was the last time you ran here?” I continued, my pace slowing down a bit. My legs were getting a bit sore now.
“Last summer,” was another quick response from Holden. If he thought that was a weird question, he didn’t make it obvious. The truth is, I wanted to know if his neighbors were out specifically to say hi and wave or if they just happened to do so when they saw him. I knew he was popular in town but encouraging Sunnydale residents to wake up and wait for him seemed a bit crazy. It must have been a coincidence. I’m sure those 13 people who greeted and waved to him would have greeted and waved to anyone else. Maybe?
Holden kept his promise and before too long we were back at his house. My dress shirt was now complete with sweat stains. He invited me inside to enjoy some breakfast with him.
His house was clean and orderly. It appeared to be decorated in a rustic feel with warm colors and antique looking art. The walls were filled with family photos of him, his parents and other family members. “Are your parents home?” I asked.
Holden led me into the kitchen and turned towards me. “They work early, over at the hospital. I won’t see them until I’m at the Bronze later.”
The Bronze was Sunnydale’s premiere nightclub in town. It’s where the residents, especially young adults, go to socialize and to listen to live music. Tonight, Holden will meet his family and his friends there to watch the DSFL Draft live. I wasn’t surprised if the entire town showed up. It will be the place to be that night.
“So what’s for breakfast?” I asked Holden.
He smiled at me again, this time with a spatula in his hand. “I hope you like omelets. I am the master at making them.”
“I love omelets.”
“Good,” he responded, “If this whole football thing doesn’t pan out for me, maybe I can get a show on Food Network making them.” He laughed as he cracked a few eggs. The way he worked was efficient and quick. I’m pretty sure he would have had that first omelet done in less than a minute if the stove could have kept up.
“What kind of omelets are you making?” I asked.
“I enjoy a wide variety of omelets. I can eat veggie omelets, meaty omelets, buffalo omelets, even goat cheese omelets.” He picked up the pan and walked over to where I was now seated. He placed a plate down and slid the omelet onto it. “But today, we are going with my favorite. It’s simple yet delicious.”
I looked down at the omelet and my mouth started to water. It looked incredibly delicious. The eggs were fluffy. The cheese on top was melted. And the bacon. Oh the bacon.
“Turkey and cheddar omelet with bacon bits sprinkled on top.” He said with the satisfaction of a masterchef. He handed me a fork and watched patiently as I cut a piece and took a bite. The bacon especially didn’t disappoint.
“This is fantastic,” I said once my mouth was empty.
He grinned and added, “And it’s low on carbs. That’s important especially when trying to stay in peak shape.” He turned around and began making his own omelet. I felt a bit uncomfortable eating while he cooked but I didn’t want to be rude. Plus, I don’t think I’ve had an omelet that good since my mom made them for me as a child. Before too long, Holden had scooped up his own omelet and sat down beside me.
After we had both finished our breakfast, I wanted to ask Holden a bit about his relationship with football. Everyone can look at his stats and watch clips of his performances, but a deeper look into his process seemed necessary.
“Holden, at what age did you know you wanted to be a football player?” I asked him.
That trademark Holden Summers smile returned. “I knew from the moment i held a football for the first time. I can still remember that first touch of the leather on my fingers. The bumps, the laces. It felt so nice and so beautiful, if that makes sense. It felt like I was meant to hold that ball.”
His answer made me think of how often Holden had tried to intercept passes. It had gotten him into trouble in high school a few times with him ignoring defensive plays just for a shot to catch the football before his opponent can. That behavior almost entirely disappeared once he started playing for the Golden Gophers, but he still tries to catch the ball when he’s within reach.
“You’ve primarily played linebacker since you’ve started playing the sport. Is there a reason you didn’t want to try and be a quarterback?” I asked.
“Yeah, I have crap aim!” He replied with a laugh. “And I’m not entirely joking. The way my brain works, it’s easier for me to analyze a situation and break it down. When I play defense, that offensive line is a problem for me to solve. When the parts begin to move, my instinct takes over and I search for the best possible solution. Hopefully that solution is a tackle.”
I smiled at Holden and asked my next question, “You’ve had a few critics in the media lately, including some scouts, claim that you are a very average player. What would you say back to them?”
Holden’s smile faltered for a moment, but it did not disappear. He then answered, “I appreciate the fact that they looked at me at all. That means I’m on their radar. This draft is happening tonight and people are talking about me. Also, stats and scouting reports are only one part of the game. I can promise you, promise my fans, my family and even promise those scouts...that nobody works harder than me. Every day I put my body and mind through training to get better. That person they scouted and wrote about is not the person sitting here with you today. And I won’t be the same person tomorrow. I work hard to get better every single day.”
I let his words hang in the air for a few seconds. They were deep and honest and it felt like he needed the brief silence as well. I could tell his words were important to him and they deserved that respect. Holden Summers was passionate about this sport and he wasn’t ever going to stop striving to be better.
I finally broke the silence. “The DSFL draft is tonight, as you know. Are there any teams that stand out that you’d prefer to get drafted to?”
“As cliché as it sounds, I’ll be thrilled to be drafted to any team.” He was back to business. His composure returned and his smile was back at 100%. “I’ve had some really great conversations with a few of the teams, like Tijuana, Norfolk and Minnesota, but they’ve all been a pleasure to speak with.”
“You have a fan base already in Minnesota since you played for University of Minnesota. How great would it be to play in front of them some more?”
Holden looked over at the fridge. I followed his gaze and saw a photo of him in his Golden Gopher equipment. “Maroon and gold flows through my veins as much as this town does. If I am fortunate enough to get drafted by the Grey Ducks, I’ll consider myself lucky.” He looked back at me and continued, “I have some pretty committed fans out there! It would be cool to see them in the stands at the Grey Ducks stadium.”
Before I could ask a question, Holden got up and took the dirty dishes with him. He placed them in the sink and walked out of the room. Over his shoulder he enthusiastically said, “Hey, follow me! I want to show you something.”
So I did.
Holden led me into his garage. It was mostly empty except for a work bench and a car underneath a dusty old sheet. He walked over to it and turned to me. “You’re probably going to think this is dumb, but it’s a good way to get inside my brain and see how I work.” He smiled again and pulled the sheet off. What appeared was a-
Well, not what I expected.
“This is my grandfather’s El Camino.” he said as he walked along the old car. I couldn’t help but think, You mean what’s left of an El Camino? The car was missing two doors, some windows and the paint was a mismatch of blue, red and what appeared to be orange. “I know it doesn’t look like much but the beauty is on the inside.”
I walked over to Holden as he opened the hood. I peered inside and saw a shiny engine free of oil and rust. I looked at Holden, a bit confused as to why he was showing me this.
He caught on to my mannerisms and continued, “This engine has been a pet project of mine. I have dismantled and repaired it over 20 times.”
I was a bit shocked. “Why would you do that?” I asked.
“To get better. It trains my mind to focus and it trains my hands to be efficient. Every time I take it apart, I time myself. Every time I put it back together, I time myself. I can now do it 10 times faster than the first time I did it.”
I was finally starting to understand why he’s showing me this. Despite the fact that we had changed topics back in the kitchen, he still wanted to talk about what those scouts had said about him. He knew he wasn’t average and he wanted me to see how he can improve himself.
“The way I approach this engine is the way I approach the game. Every time I’m on the field, I push myself to get faster and better just like I do with this.” He brought his eyes back to mine. “I have no end goal because I don’t believe you ever stop getting better. Not until you die,’ he added.
“Thank you.” I said.
“For what?” He asked.
“This is highly personal to you. This is your grandfather’s car and you’re sharing it with me and my audience.” I answered. It was true. This hobby of his was borderline obsessive yet he was willing to share it with me to help us all understand him better.
Holden nodded and looked back at the engine. “You’re welcome,” he said gently.
The morning was dissolving into midday now and I wanted to let him get on with the rest of his day uninterrupted. He had already been a great host and he shared more with me than I imagined he would. It was time to say goodbye to Holden Summers.
He led me to the front door as I started saying goodbye. We shook hands but before he let go, he looked at me and added “You better come to the Bronze tonight. For the draft party!” I was surprised by the invite. He and I had just met a few hours prior and here I was, being invited to one of the most special moments that he will ever have in his life.
I nodded and told him I’d go. I then thanked him and left.
That night the energy was unreal. Walking into the Bronze was like entering a whole new dimension filled with high octane energy, flashing lights and thumping music. Sunnydale is known for some shady night activities, but the Bronze was anything but that. This place was nothing but positive energy.
I didn’t want to intrude into Holden’s night too much even if I was invited. I took this time to get to know his family and friends instead.
The first couple I approached, after getting a very strong drink, were the Summers. In their mid-forties, Amos and Joyce have lived in Sunnydale their whole lives; Amos a resident cardiologist at the local hospital and Joyce a nurse practitioner. Their expertise could tell you almost everything you need to know about maintaining health. It was in these good hands that Holden grew up.
They were polite when I introduced myself. I quickly saw that Holden got his smile from his mother. They apologized for not being able to participate earlier in the day but I waved it off. I did take the opportunity to ask them about their son, though.
“What was Holden like growing up?” I asked them.
They shared a brief smile before Amos, Holden’s father, answered, “He was always on the move. I still remember how he was practically running from the moment he started walking.” His father chuckled a bit. “We tried to keep up when we could, and when we couldn’t, we made sure he knew we’d be there for him.”
Joyce added, “He was a good kid. He had this charisma growing up that just drew in his peers and even the adults around him.” I nodded and looked around the nightclub. There were a lot of people there and all of them were there for him. That charisma had not faded in the 22 years of his life.
“What do you hope he gains from tonight?” I followed up.
Joyce took no time to answer, “I hope he gets everything he’s hoped for. He’s worked so hard and we are so proud of him. I just want to make sure he keeps that smile on his face.”
Amos just nodded beside her in agreement. I thanked them for their time and let them get back to the celebrations. Over the next half hour, I walked around the Bronze and asked people what they thought of Holden. I got many “He’s the best!” and “Nobody plays ball at his level!” but one answer stood above all others.
“He’s my best friend,” Lefty Louis said to me. Lefty Louis was another player in this year’s DSFL draft. He’s a talented kicker and he’s been Holden’s good friend for over two years.
“Do you hope you and Holden end up on the same team?” I asked, curious. He nodded.
“It would be awesome to take this next step with him. I think we are destined to do a lot of great things together.” He replied. You could tell how strong their friendship was. Ultimately Lefty would not be drafted by the same team that drafted Holden, but I have a feeling that won’t matter.
At the start of the draft, I made my way up to Holden. “Good luck,” I said to him over the noise. He smiled at me as the TV announced, “The first overall pick by the Norfolk Seawolves will be...Cal Lidous!”
Holden shot his arms into the air and screamed, “Cal Lidous?! I love that guy!” He looked around him and then back at me. His smile remained on his face as he state, “This is it. It’s officially happening.”
Holden Summers was drafted 6 picks later at 7th overall by the Minnesota Grey Ducks. This gives him the opportunity to continue to play in front of the same fans as he did when he wore the maroon and gold of the Golden Gophers. If he was hoping for another team, he did not show it. When his name was called, the entire place erupted in cheers. When he got the phone call from the Grey Duck general manager, the smile on his face continued to shine just as it did when I first met him earlier that day. Amos and Joyce have nothing to fear.
We will all be seeing that smile for years to come.