During those two games I had watched from the stands as Riley managed to collect five goals, four assists and what seemed like a file a couple of inches thick of newspaper clippings. Me? I had managed to collect a cold from a lady who sneezed on me in the first game and popcorn in my hair from a kid who had spilled his bucket during the second game. I thought about this as I parked the Jeep near the old, brick, church building. I was not in a good mood to be babysitting Riley Judd through another visit to Youth Works. I was in a worse mood after an hour and a half with the little monsters in our assigned group. “Are they always like this?” I asked Samantha. She had just walked into the room to check on our group. Youth Works was big enough that she supervised volunteers working with kids in five different age groups. Today, Riley and I were stuck with just the eight- and nine-year-olds. Although my stomach still danced with nervousness around her, I was finally able to speak to Sam without my teeth getting in the way of my tongue.
