Chapter 49 Griffin
Griffin
After Friday’s event for the South Shore senior football players, Griffin can’t stop thinking about ways to continue the work.
Within hours he’s decided to create his own foundation, and first thing Saturday, he gets a meeting scheduled with the head of the Wardens’ philanthropy department for Monday morning.
In advance he makes a list of his ideas and his questions, and with every step of progress, Griffin feels like he’s waking up.
Griffin’s knee still aches occasionally, and he takes over-the-counter pain medication as needed, but while it used to make him wonder if his career was over, it’s now only a minor inconvenience to getting around, an unwanted distraction from the efforts he’s locked into.
Monday morning, Griffin wakes with optimism, preparing for his day in the very same way as if he were going to practice—eating a nutritious breakfast, his single cup of coffee for the day, stretching and hydration.
He parks in his usual spot at the stadium, but instead of heading to the locker room, Griffin walks over to the administration building.
Beverly Anderson’s office boasts a small waiting room with an administrative professional, so after he announces himself, Griffin sits and waits.
He crosses his hands over the leather billfold he sets in his lap, his written-out list inside.
Before long, a woman wearing a matching skirt and jacket walks in with a large leather bag slung over her shoulder.
“Well, I know from the TV, you must be Griffin Hayes,” she says on the way to what’s presumably her office door. “Come on in.”
Griffin hops to his feet and crosses the waiting room. Beverly flips on the overhead light and drops her bag on an extra chair in the corner before unpacking a laptop, notepad, and phone.
She pauses by her desk chair. “Have you had coffee? I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect you to be so . . . timely.”
Griffin smiles. “I’ve had my morning cup, but don’t mind me if you want to grab one.”
Beverly sighs, then speaks quietly. “I’ll just ask Madison if she’d do me the favor. I hate asking my assistants for coffee; it just seems so cliché.”
She dips out of the room, and Griffin hears the low murmur of her request peppered with unnecessary apologies.
Beverly reenters the room and settles behind her desk.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I have to ask—why didn’t you expect me to be on time?”
Beverly’s cheeks turn pink. “Honestly? A lot of guys from the team get the inspiration to do some charity work—often around the holidays—but the follow-through isn’t always as robust as their commitment to practice or training.
” She raises her hands as if to deflect argument.
“Not that I’m saying it should! I understand they’re getting paid to play. It’s their job.”
Griffin sits taller in his seat. “Well, I’ll have you know off the bat that when I commit to something, I take it seriously. Whether that’s training or, right now, creating a foundation, I hate it when things are done halfway.”
Beverly claps. “Excellent! We’re birds of a feather.”
Madison slips in and sets a coffee mug on the table. Both Beverly and Griffin look up and smile in acknowledgment.
“So give me a sense of what you’re trying to do.” Beverly lifts the steaming mug and blows on it.
Griffin pulls in a breath and launches into a description of his vision.
Hosting celebrity events to raise money for programs like South Shore so they don’t have to choose between a safe field or a senior reception.
Helping programs buy new uniforms, send players to summer camps for extra training.
Establishing a scholarship program for players who won’t qualify to play college ball but will need an education for their future.
Eventually establishing his own summer camp program for recreational players as well as professional hopefuls.
“That’s the heart of what I want to do here, but I know I’m a rookie at this, and I want to get the opinions of people like you who have been doing this for a while.”
Beverly raises a brow. “You’re already way ahead of most. Your vision is clear—and more importantly, attainable. You’re thinking with logistics and business in mind.”
Griffin nods. “Being connected in this celebrity world is a great starting point. A lot of those folks are happy to make an appearance to help the kids, and if I make it easy on them to donate, even better.”
“Player-led camps are a hit. Some families bar no expense to send their children to a highly rated camp, and you could parlay those profits into scholarships and your foundation. Even with you as the head of the camp, designing the programs and teaching, it would be popular.”
“What’s the best place to start?”
“You need to get a clear and concise mission statement put together. Some basic branding, a website, email contact, etcetera. Then I would start by throwing a fundraiser party of some kind and inviting all of your famous friends. That’s a great way to start getting the word out and bringing in the first donations.
Oh, and you’ll need to officially apply for tax status—in general, you want to hire a finance person to manage that side from the start. ”
Griffin nods as he takes notes. “All very manageable. I think I have most of a mission statement already.”
“Excellent! And yes, of course it can be tweaked over time. You just want to commit to the purpose of the foundation.”
“I’ll invite a lot of players to the first fundraiser, so it won’t be anything too fancy.”
Beverly grins. “Some of the guys love a glamorous event! You’ve got quite the mix over there in the locker room.”
Griffin laughs. “You’re right about that. I guess you’ve worked with a lot of them on Wardens events.”
She nods. “Overall the players are great sports.”
Griffin asks Beverly a round of questions focused on details, and she answers with ease and in depth. She offers him her personal phone number for questions, noting his commitment and focus. “You’re really putting your all into it.”
Griffin gestures to his knee. “This might end up being it for me.” Despite having made peace with the reality that his knee injury will prevent him from getting back in the game, nothing has yet been officially arranged with the team, so he has to remain tight-lipped.
Beverly shrugs. “We’re all cheering for you either way. And this”—she points to his notes—“is an incredible and worthy endeavor.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
By the time Griffin gets home, he decides he’s going to rent out a local brewery to soft launch the foundation, maybe hire a local band if he can find one on short notice. Of course his mind goes to Aria.
What if he invited her? Griffin will have to think about it. He wants to be in good shape the next time he gets close to her—nothing like that ghost of a person he was when she surprised him on his doorstep—and the moment needs to be right.
His first event, and when he’s still figuring the foundation out, might be too soon. Griffin wants nothing but the absolute best for her—him at his best too.
Then again, Aria is going on a tour in the new year, so Griffin can’t put off the launch too long.
A call from Elliott interrupts his thoughts as he pulls into his condo building’s parking garage.
“Hey, hey,” Elliott says. “Free tonight?”
“Eh, maybe,” Griffin says. “I’m still trying to take it easy on the knee, and I was out today meeting with Beverly from philanthropy.”
“Yeah? You transferring departments?” Elliott laughs.
“Well, maybe, sort of! I guess I caught the nonprofit work bug after the South Shore thing.”
“For real? Man, that’s awesome.” The genuine enthusiasm pours through Elliott’s words. “To be honest, you sound better. Way better.”
Griffin lets out a pressured breath. “It got bad there for a second, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, man, it did. I’m glad you found some footing, though. There’s so much more life to be lived off the field.”
Griffin notes a wistfulness in Elliott’s voice he hasn’t noticed before. “If you were in my shoes, how would you be filling your time?”
“I have to tell you, I’ve got the itch for fashion. After Fashion Week, I’m reading the magazines, watching the releases. And I don’t mean in a bootleg celebrity mash-up product line. I mean like starting my own thing, for real.”
It’s clear from the quickness in which Elliott lands on the well-developed idea that this isn’t his first time thinking about it.
Griffin has always assumed that all of these players have been just like him: singularly focused.
But in reality, all of them are just humans at heart, and humans are never just one thing at a time.
“I’m lucky to get a second act,” Griffin says, genuinely meaning it. “Thanks for helping me see it.”
“I’m always here. And when it’s my time to bow out of the game, you’ll be able to help me find my way.”
“Just say the word, bud.”
The reception grows spotty as Griffin progresses into the underground portion of the parking garage, and he ends the call before it drops. How surprising life can be; it certainly has been for him as of late.
Aria coming into his life was one of the brightest, most shining surprises.
And now in the light of his fresh start, a new longing for her blooms within him.
For better or worse, he decides to invite her to the foundation kickoff.