Page 38 of (La)Crosse My Heart

"That would be a huge help. Thank you!" I say loud enough to tease. Shutting the phone, I lean back against the tree, trying to work up the energy to entertain dozens of kids.

"What are you all doing over here?" A lanky guy asks.

I turn to look at him and am about to shoo him away when I see he's wearing a Play It Forward T-shirt.

"We're just waiting for the camp to start."

"Well, this is the best-looking lacrosse camp we've had so far on the tour," the guy says.

Tour? "What's your name?"

"I'm Milo. I work for the organization that heads this up."

"Have there been a bunch of camps so far?" Stack asks.

Milo nods. "From over twenty sports. I think this is my thirty-fourth camp. Which is why I had to bring the coffee this morning, you know? I mean, I don't think I'd be able to function once the kids get going if I didn't have the caffeine pumping through my veins."

"Any advice?" I ask, folding my arms over my chest. I might be competitive, but I don't need to be for a camp. It's not like anyone here is going to another one of these and will compare notes. Well, except Milo here.

"Keep the kids going. They'll be fans for life. There was a time when a kid came to one of our baseball camps and he loved it so much he decided to?—"

"Okay, boys," the gal from registration says, walking over. "We have five different colored shirts, so we'll just need the kids to be in that many groups. You'll need to keep track of the younger ones so they don't wander, especially for bathroom breaks."

We all nod, knowing that's probably a friendly reminder.

"Oh, Milo. When did you get here?" I squint to read her nametag. Stephanie.

"Just a few minutes ago. I didn't realize the directions like north and west were so important when putting them into the GPS, so I ended up out by the Salt Flats. I might have to take a ride out there later. I think I saw an endangered bird."

I glance at my teammates, trying to figure out if this guy is for real or not.

"Well, it's good to have you here,” Stephanie says, giving him a smile. “Do you want to lead out the hillside talk?"

"Absolutely." He turns to us and says, "Okay, tell me your names."

I point to myself and say, "You want our names?"

He nods.

"Clark Denton."

"Burton."

And so on down the line. There's no way this guy is going to remember this.

The registration line finally dies down and all the kids have their gear on and cleats tied. The players are all sitting on a small hill that leads from the baseball fields down to the large grassy area. This must be time for the talk.

"Welcome, families,” Milo begins. “This is such a great time to learn about sports. We're excited to be partnering with the Salt Lake Lancers for this event. If you're here for the street hockey event, that registration will start in about thirty minutes."

I turn to look at Burton and mouth, "Street hockey?"

"Yes, Clark, street hockey," Milo says, turning to give us a look. How in the world did he hear that?

"Okay, we're ready for the groups to be split up. Remember, various charities have donated all of this equipment and it is yours to keep. We only ask that if your player decides not to play in the future, that you donate it to a club in need rather than selling it."

They get all of that gear for free? I could've used something like that as a kid.

"We've got sixty players ready to go. We'll let Clark assign where the groups will play and enjoy your day."

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