Griffin stands back to admire the setup, his knee now in a brace that allows him to move around more easily. He smiles to himself. The guys are going to love it.
The gym doors open, and Coach Pete enters, his eyes immediately going wide.
“Griffin! This is too much!” He stops and looks around, massaging his beard as he admires the setup.
“If I’m doing it, I’m doing itright.”
That’s the way Griffin approaches everything, the way he has since he can remember. He might not have followed in the footsteps of his parents, but he did absorb their lessons about hard work and dedication.
“You sure did. The guys are going to flip.”
“Just wait until I reveal my special guests.” Griffin grins.
Coach Pete doesn’t have a chance to reply before they’re interrupted by the opening of the door and the students andtheir families and guests enter. Their excitement spills over in animated chatter, and it’s the final piece to the puzzle of the event.
Griffin shakes hands and takes pictures. Then he points everyone to the memory books to sign before lunch is served.
Before long, Griffin feels a familiar slap on his back, and when he turns, Elliott stands with feet planted, his hands on his hips. “Nice work on this, man. I never got a thing close to this growing up.”
A couple of the defensive linemen spill through the doors, and both of the quarterbacks follow close behind.
The Wardens players gather over by the senior portraits, take pictures, chat, and sign autographs. Before long, the food is served and the players—the guests of honor—are sent to join the line first as each Warden finds his assigned table. Plates are loaded, tables are filled, and the room grows noisy as lunch chatter commences.
Griffin sits back and enjoys it. It was work to put this together, but it wasn’t anything outrageous. The impact it’s having on the seniors and their families far outpaces anything he put in. Hopefully Coach Pete is right: This will be a memory that stays with them.
Honoring someone’s hard work is always worth it.
After plenty of time is allowed to eat and visit, Coach Pete takes the mic and makes a speech. He talks about the football season as well as seasons past. He spotlights each player, noting his contribution to the team, progress, and quality of character. A few tears are dabbed away by emotional parents.
Every player is called up and presented a commemorative plaque.
“And finally, none of this would be possible without the incredible Griffin Hayes from the Chicago Wardens, who stepped in last minute and pulled off this whole thing like he’d been a professional event planner all along. Griffin, could you come up?”
Griffin is caught off guard, not planning on being called up for anything. He snags his crutches and makes quick work of propelling himself over.
“On behalf of the South Shore Eagles, we’d like to present you with this honorary player plaque.” Coach Pete holds out a plaque like the one the seniors received. “In only a very brief time, you have made a significant impact on these young men, who are now even more confident as they graduate and head out into the world for the success they’re due.”
A thickness gathers at the top of Griffin’s throat, and he swallows it down. He blinks rapidly at the swell of emotion inside him—another surprise.
Griffin takes the plaque. “Thank you, Coach Pete. I have to say this means a lot. Maybe more than getting awards from the pros. It’s been an absolute honor to get to support you, even if just for a little while.”
The crowd claps, and a few players let out cheers of support.
Griffin makes his way back to his seat, the flush in his cheeks warm. He doesn’t blush when he gets accolades from the media or reporters—those compliments feel rehearsed, transactional. He doesn’t blush when he gets pulled into celebrity photoshoots.
Hedoesblush around Aria Wilder.
Maybe, Griffin realizes, he blushes only when something really touches his heart.
If how he feels today is any indication, it shouldn’t be too much longer before he’s in good enough shape to reach back out to Aria. He thinks of her all the time.
Griffin settles himself back at his table, and Elliott at his side gives him a celebratory slap on the back.
“With all the business out of the way,” Coach Pete announces, “we’ll get to the cake. Mrs. Smithfield would like to take a group picture beside it, and then she will begin to cut the cake. Oh, and Mrs. Flinn will help too.”
A few of the mothers get up and head toward the cake, phones at the ready to snap their own picture.
In the pause, Elliott leans over. “Dang, man. You know you’re killing it, right?”
