Home is where your Heart is

Hopeful Hearts

     We trained harder than ever because we were finally strong enough to survive it. That day we ran five miles. We went so far, we began to see real hills and were able to do hill training on something other than almond hulls. When we finally stopped to rest, it was in the shade of an orange orchard.

"You know, the way I used to coach I'd take soft kids and kick their butts until they toughened up." The boys laughed. "You think that's funny?"

Victor smirked. "Beating up some white kids, White? Yeah, I think that's funny."

"I don't know if you know, but the way we're going, you guys have a chance for qualifying for State." It got really quiet as they let this daunting idea sink in.

"Really?" Johnny asked hopefully.

"Yeah, really. But it doesn't matter what I think. I can't do it for you. I don't have to be the one to tell you that the odds are stacked against you, but if you believe in yourselves and maybe more importantly you find a way to believe in each other, your teammates, it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. That's the beauty of sports."

"We don't practice to lose, homes, I mean Coach." Victor said. Even the boys had gained new respect for my dad and now called him coach instead of nicknames like Blanco, homes and just using his last name White. Although, White did tend to slip in still. Dad chuckled and offered half of the orange he was snacking on to me. I shook my head. Each of the boys he offered it to did the same.

"You don't eat the produce, Coach." Damacio informed him.

"What?"

"You don't eat the produce." Damacio gave me a sly nudge and I caught on.

I worked hard to keep a straight face as I played along. "Come on Coach. Even I know that. It's the first rule of picking. You eat the produce and you're fired."

Dad instantly felt embarrassed and sorry that he had put the boys on the spot like that. He tossed away the orange he was eating. "I'm sorry guys. I didn't..." We all burst into laughter. So of course he picked up a few oranges and began chucking them at us. We scrambled to our feet and ran. "All of you, dead!" he said and grabbed his bike to chase after us. Damacio gave me a high-five. Our break over, we ran the five miles back home.

As the next few weeks passed, I began to realize that my dad was so much more than a gym teacher, Life Science teacher and Cross Country coach. He did the most wonderful thing he could do for the boys on the Cross Country team. He opened their eyes to the possibility of a better future for themselves. None of their family members had ever made it passed the ninth grade. They had all dropped out to work in the fields to support their families. The boys had all imagined they would do the same except once they had finished high school. But Dad gave them SAT books and painted them a picture of going to college, getting a few degrees and being able to make more money than they were making now picking. Thomas became more hopeful than I had ever seen him before.

Soon we were going to the final meet that determined whether or not we were going to State. Dad warned us that the course had a big hill. The way he said it sounded very ominous, but each time Danny tried to ask him how big, he would just repeat big. We were all nervous as we got onto the bus. This race was a huge one for us. But our nerves quickly went away as we drove through the town and saw posters taped up everywhere with supportive slogans written on them. A few kids even ran after the bus carrying a banner saying, 'We (heart) our Cougars'. We laughed and waved to them.

The ride was an hour long and near the end, Danny went to the front of the bus probably to ask Dad how big the hill was again. "Take a good look, guys. This is where we qualify for State. All we have to do is make it in the top four. The top four out of six total teams. That's it."