By mid-July, the long hot days felt a little different. Not bad—just… heavier. Slower. More meaningful, because the guys all knew one thing. August was coming, and with it—the start of football.
One evening at the park, the group sat at one of the park tables near the basketball court, drinking sodas and watching the younger kids play tag. The streetlights buzzed softly as they flickered on, and the late-summer breeze carried the smell of fresh-cut grass. Tony cracked open a grape pop.
“All right, fellas,” he said. “It’s time.”
Marcus lifted an eyebrow.
“Time for what?”
“Football talk,” Tony declared proudly. “Our last year at Phelps. We gotta do it this year.”
Derrick smiled.
“Practice ain’t even started yet, man.”
Leon leaned back on his elbows.
“But he right though. This it. Next year we’re in ninth grade.”
Reggie nodded, looking thoughtful.
“Next year it’s the Central sophomore team… we really doing it.”
“Of course we doing it,” Tony said like he already owned a jersey.
“We ain’t small no more. We ain’t little kids. Time for the big leagues.”
Leon smirked.
“Boy, you 5 feet tall, and still run like your shoes tied together.”
The whole crew cracked up while Tony held his chest in fake pain.
“I’m 5’2,” he insisted.
“You 5 feet,” they all echoed at the same time.
While the group was arguing about how tall Tony was, Derrick watched some younger kids running around with plastic footballs. He remembered when he and the fellas used to be those little kids—tiny helmets, shoulder pads too big, jerseys that looked like dresses, running the wrong way half the time. Now they were the older ones. The ones little kids looked up to. It hit him deep.
This was the last chapter of something. Next year would be bigger helmets. Bigger hits. Bigger expectations.
“Y’all nervous?” Derrick asked quietly.
Marcus shrugged.
“A little.”
Tony nodded.
“Yeah… ’cause high school football ain’t a joke.”
Leon said,
“But that’s next year. This year? This year we gotta dominate.”
Reggie tapped his pop can.
“We gotta win that championship this year.”
The crew nodded in unison.
They had played park board football since they were little: Derrick was steady, and dependable. Marcus was a hard-hitting linebacker. Tony was the loudmouth running back with surprising speed, and Reggie was a sure-handed receiver. Leon was the versatile athlete who would be playing at Phelps for the first time, but had played football back in St. Louis.
Phelps didn’t always win, but they always played hard. Last year they made the playoffs. The year before, they’d barely missed. And when they were little, they even won a championship once—the trophy still sat inside the Phelps Park building. But this year? This year felt bigger, because it was their last year playing park board football. They could actually play park board football in ninth grade also, but they all had their minds set on playing for the Central Sophomore team.
As the conversation died down, they all grew quiet for a moment. Kids still shouted in the distance. A basketball thumped the ground somewhere behind them. A car radio played the Jackson 5 faintly from Chicago Avenue. Marcus broke the silence first.
“You think we ready?”
Derrick nodded slowly.
“Yep”
“Yeah, we’re ready.” Tony added. ” We’re gonna be whooping some teams up this year.”
Reggie nodded.
“We got something to prove.”
Derrick looked around at them—his brothers, his family. The group of friends that had been with him through everything.
“We’re ready,” he repeated. “For real.”
As they were talking, Tasha and Cathy appeared from behind the building, carrying paper cups of water from the fountain. Tasha waved, smiling.
“Hey, football stars.”
Tony puffed his chest out.
“You already know.”
Cathy rolled her eyes.
“Boy, please.”
Tasha looked at Derrick.
“You excited about the season coming up?”
He nodded.
“A little. It’s our last year.”
Her smile softened.
“Then you gotta make it count.”
Her words landed deeper than she probably knew. Derrick met her eyes.
As the crew started running around again—tossing a football, showing off, talking trash—Tasha stayed by Derrick.
“You really love football, huh?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “we all grew up doing this.”
Tasha nodded.
“I can tell it means something to you.”
“It does,” Derrick said. “And next year… playing for Central… that’s big.”
Tasha smiled at him.
“You’ll be great.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” she said softly.
Derrick felt something warm spread in his chest.
As the sun disappeared behind the row of houses, the boys all gathered one last time at the edge of the field. Marcus put his hand in the center.
“Last year y’all.” He said. “Make it count.”
Tony put his hand on top.
“Make it big.”
Leon added hand.
“We gotta do this.”
Reggie followed.
“You know it.”
Derrick placed his hand on top of theirs. “This is our year.”
And just like that— they sealed the summer.
As they walked down 39th Street, heading toward 4th Avenue, the boys talked plays, positions, rival parks, and who they wanted to beat the most. The season hadn’t even started yet, but the excitement was already buzzing through all of them. And when Derrick glanced back and saw Tasha smiling at him under the streetlights, he knew: Summer was ending soon, and their last Phelps football season? It would be one to remember.