Chapter 17
Coach Martinez died on a Sunday morning.
Peacefully.
His wife called me.
I sat on the locker room floor and cried like a kid.
At his funeral, the church overflowed.
Players from twenty years of teams came.
Some professional.
Some not.
All of us carrying pieces of him.
I spoke last.
“Coach taught me that adults should run toward children in trouble,” I said. “Not because it is heroic. Because it is their job.”
My voice cracked.
“He made me believe my talent was not something to apologize for. He made me believe evidence mattered. He made me believe I could stand up after being humiliated.”
I placed the signed championship ball beside his photo.
His wife cried.
So did I.
After the service, she returned the ball to me.
“He wanted you to keep this,” she said. “He said you still had work to do.”
May you like
Of course he did.
Even dead, Coach assigned drills.
