Chapter 47 Griffin
Griffin
If asked to estimate his aptitude for event planning and organization months earlier, Griffin would’ve chosen the lowest possible rating.
He’d attended more than his fair share of events, but all of those were organized by true professionals—and often with the financial backing of major brands.
But the South Shore High School football program, which fell so unexpectedly into his path, seems to have brought out the event planner in him.
In only a week, Griffin has set up a picture-perfect senior luncheon in the high school gymnasium.
Along one side of the gym, a buffet sits atop long tables covered with linen cloth, two attendants helping to serve and refresh the platters.
Griffin chose barbecue from a popular local place—a favorite among the team, according to Coach Pete—and the sweet scent of smoked meat has already permeated the place.
Iced tea and fresh lemonade sit chilled in glass pitchers, and the cake has its own table at the end.
Griffin didn’t go too frilly on the decorations, and instead he had the senior portraits of each player printed in large scale and set up on a stand.
Alongside, a table has been set up with memory books for each player—a collection of pictures the coaches gathered from the years—for each to sign for one another.
The books were the trickiest component of the day to pull off.
Getting them put together and printed on short notice wasn’t easy, but Griffin enjoyed the feeling of being tired from something—anything—other than his injury.
Between the food and the photo hall of fame, round tables have been set with quality linens. As centerpieces, Griffin set out footballs signed by the entire Wardens team, and there are enough for each player to take one home as a souvenir.
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 it right.”
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 and their 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.
He does blush 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?”
Griffin shrugs. “It really wasn’t much. But thanks for connecting me. It’s been nice to be helpful while I’m out of commission.”
Elliott’s eyes turn serious—a rare occasion.
“But you know what else you’re doing, right?
You’re showing these kids—and the rest of us—that there’s still life after setbacks.
Not a one of these kids are going to the league, but they see you stepping up and making an impact even when you’ve been sidelined. ”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
“You’re offering everyone way more than the entertainment of being a top player on the field. We all know players come and go; all of our time is limited. But you’re a living example of the fact that there’s life after football.”
Griffin’s mouth hangs slightly ajar.
This whole time, Griffin, though thoroughly enjoying it, had framed this work as a distraction, a stopgap.
He’s felt a pulse of pride and fulfillment that he didn’t let himself examine too closely.
Doing so would only risk extinguishing it somehow, overthinking it into oblivion.
The injury had already created far too much time for Griffin to be alone with his thoughts.
But now Elliott’s perspective makes sense of it all.
He’s right—this is proof that there is life for Griffin after football.
He’s just been too preoccupied to open his eyes to it.
“Thank you,” Griffin tells Elliott. “That helps in ways you’ll never know.”
A moment passes between them, and as the skin at the corners of Elliott’s eyes creases as he draws his face into a tentative frown, Griffin knows Elliott’s been thinking the same thing as him: This injury is most likely the end of his career.
The Wardens team—Griffin’s team—is supportive of pushing as hard as he wants to get back into game play shape. But Griffin is in the driver’s seat. He gets to make the call on what happens next.
Griffin isn’t a young buck anymore. There is no better comparison than being among these graduating seniors. Guys only a few years older than these boys wearing sport coats a size too big over their fathers’ ties are entering the league fresh and in their prime.
Now that Griffin believes for the first time that there is life for him beyond football, a good life where he can thrive, it becomes clear.
It’s time for him to hang up his cleats.
And not with resentment over the injury or with hard feelings over being cut, but with gratitude for the honor of getting to play in the league. And with a new zeal for the next chapter of his life.
One in which he hopes he can do more of this—supporting youth athletes.