It feels like time has hit warp drive ever since tryouts. Every day has been packed to the brim like the first fountain soda after a baseball game. We used to call it a “graveyard” as we layered sodas over each other in the cup, creating diabolical mixes of sugar and advertising.

I’m back in the gym locker room in-between class periods as I listen to Andy Shauf on my phone. Half a thousand emails have been sent and received as I prep for the week, weekend, and the inevitable march towards athletic glory (we’ll see).

Tonight is the first night in ages where I’m not rocking a practice. It’s been since December since I’ve had more than just Friday off coaching. Instead I’ll be walking the pony boy, Huckleberry, around Irvington as I noodle on the next steps (that aren’t soccer related).