https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OWrKMGpXynA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFsD9Fsj9cY
It’s summer camp, but there’s no tire swing tied to a tree hanging out over a lake, no hikes through the forest, and no songs to be sung by campfire light. It’s summer camp with prowlers, 45-pound plates, agility cones and tackle dummies. It’s summer camp with helmets, shoulder pads and cleats. It’s summer camp with hits, blocks, interceptions and touchdowns. It’s the Oak Park and River Forest High School football summer camp.
It’s at the midway point, July 2, and guys filter out to the field after an early morning film session. They look like most teenagers do at 6:30 in the morning, haggard, droopy-eyed, despondent. They look like zombies, but that will all change very soon.
“Lunges! Down and back, for being late to the field!” hollers assistant coach and strength and conditioning guru Paul Collins, the tone of his voice imposing and demanding as it booms off the bleachers of Oak Park Stadium. Collins is one of the reasons why the OPRF wrestling program is such a powerful force, most of which is on this field, save one gifted grappler in particular, Davonte Mahomes, but more about Mahomes later.
Up there in the press box, a team manager sets up a camera and prepares to capture the day’s activities. In a few hours’ time, the zombies will have morphed into attentive, vibrant athletes and then satisfyingly fatigued classroom students of the game.
OPRF head coach John Hoerster appears and receives some disappointing news from assistant coach Al Allen. A player, who is expected to be a starter this season, contacted Allen late last night to say he wasn’t going to be at practice today or possibly tomorrow or possibly the rest of camp. His parents went out of town so he’s staying at a friend’s house. Hoerster asks Allen why the player didn’t contact him, but Hoerster knows why and that also disappoints him.
“It’s not really camp,” Hoerster points out. “It’s practice. You miss practice, you fall behind.”
The absence of this player does not begin today’s practice well for Hoerster, who, now entering his third season after a successful 7-4 record and playoff win last year, is determined to get the OPRF football program winning consistently. He can’t do it if guys are missing practice and don’t tell him why directly. Personnel numbers are up across the board this summer, but this is the time to learn, make mistakes and learn again.
Everything is broken down by the minute. Special teams goes first today. Instead of wheeling off a pass, Lloyd Yates, the Huskies’ starting quarterback, boots a few punts downfield to Jacob Lintvelt and players take to their lanes as assistant coach Virgil Gerin instructs on proper coverage.
Every soul on the fake football grass is alive and awake now, players are encouraging one another, high-fives are prominent.
“Build a campfire around the ball!” Hoerster hollers as Lintvelt backs off a punt and the offense congregates. But this isn’t really camp.
It’s already 45 minutes into what will end up a four-hour practice session. Time for the defense. “Build that wall! Seal that gap! Pop those feet!” There are four groups on half the field — the other half is reserved for the sophomore team.
Max Sakellaris, a former football and basketball player at OPRF, instructs the linemen in one-on-one drills. Chris Ledbetter, another alum of OPRF and also the head baseball coach, tutors the secondary in another group. Collins, Gerin, and defensive coordinator Tim Fischer are busy with the linebackers.
After a few minutes, the linemen and the linebackers combine for “Button press nip and rips,” a one-on-one defensive move that Adam Lemke-Bell has down to a tee. Lemke-Bell is a 6-foot-5, size-17-shoed behemoth lineman. The junior blasts his opponent and grinds him into the little rubber pellets of the turf. If he could, he’d pin the kid to the ground, also being a wrestler and all, but instead he taps his teammate on the helmet and helps him up. He’s a welcomed presence with the loss of outside linebacker and likely Division I product Nile Sykes to Montini due to a transfer in December, a move Hoerster was not made aware of until it happened.
Why doesn’t anybody tell this guy anything? It’s not because they fear him. Hoerster’s a gentle soul for a big, bald, barrel-chested football coach. It’s because they don’t want to disappoint him. They respect him too much, but some teenagers struggle with how to express that.
The defense portion is over. “Trips Right Formation Jet Veer Right!” Ryan Chancellor tosses a pass to a receiver. Chancellor isn’t a quarterback. He’s a talented, lanky receiver, but the stitches in his left arm — put there recently by an unruly glass door at a friend’s house — have him just helping out at practice on this day. He’s also a pitcher on the baseball team. “Watch out Lloyd!” He jokes after roping a pass during individual receiver drills.
Lloyd Yates has nothing to worry about. He’s one of six players that started on varsity as sophomores last year and he’ll again be in command behind center this fall. The Huskies won their first state playoff game since 1992 with Yates at the helm and claimed the program’s first winning season since 2009. He’s got the job.
Jamal Baggett is also solidified at his position of running back. The track star is stepping out of the shadows of Jakari Cammon, who rushed for more than 1,600 yards and 20 touchdowns last season. Baggett shreds the defensive line, pops a linebacker so hard his helmet flies off, and zips into the end zone. On another play, he reads a block incorrectly and pays the price. Later, he’ll speak up during the film session and tell everyone what he should have done, what he will do next time. He’ll even analyze that one particular play at home by watching it on his smartphone over and over again.
The offense portion ends and Hoerster is pleased. The players strip off their helmets and pads, while Collins belts out orders. One group is headed to the prowlers (football sleds). Each kid in another group is rewarded a 45-pound plate to lug, lift, heft. Other guys are crunching, pushing, straining. Six minutes and switch.
Hoerster receives word that two younger athletes who play another sport at the school haven’t expressed interest in joining the football program. He’s a bit disappointed, but, again, the numbers are up. He tells his team to take a knee, praises them for a practice well executed, discusses the importance of fundraising for the program and reminds them to be at the 4th of July Parade with jerseys on to push his Jeep Cherokee and pass out OPRF football memorabilia. He finishes his speech with, “Where’s Jamal Baggett?” “Here!” Baggett answers. “Where’s …” Hoerster says the player’s name who is missing from practice today. No one answers. He ends practice with explicit instructions for his players, “Get him here!”
Actually, practice isn’t over quite yet. There’s still a 10-15-minute film session for both offensive and defensive players. On the way to the Monogram Room inside the field house, Hoerster, the son of a football coach, is asked if he’ll contact the missing player and persuade him to attend summer practices.
“Sometimes coaches give themselves too much credit,” he says. “It’s better that it comes from the friends of a player.”
As they watch the day’s practice on the screen at the front of the room, the guys are alert but weary. There are ice packs on arms and shoulders, bodies slumped in chairs, but all are focused on the screen. Hoerster, Allen, and Sakellaris go through every play two or three times, picking out mistakes, offering instruction and praising effort. Players speak up, inform the coaches what they did wrong and how, specifically, they will do it right.
As the tired and sore players amble out of the Monogram Room, Davonte Mahomes floats in on a cloud. He’s walking with happiness but there’s also worry in his face. You can tell he hates to disappoint a coach, any coach, but especially Hoerster. He struggles to spit the words out that he wants to, but knows he shouldn’t, so he won’t, play football anymore. A near full-ride wrestling scholarship to Michigan is the reason.
Hoerster, who began practice with a key player suspiciously absent, then midway through heard that two athletes he was coveting from other sports may not be interested, has just lost a role player from last season at the end of practice. He doesn’t sigh in frustration or pound the table with a fist.
“Damonte, how can a scholarship get taken away?” He asks, his voice soft and comforting, yet tight enough to be considered stern.
Mahomes ponders the question, stammers a bit, and then comprehends what Hoerster is referring to and replies. “Ignoring school work, hanging with the wrong crowd, not going to practice.”
“That’s exactly right,” Hoerster says. “Good luck at Michigan. I’m proud of you.”
Mahomes looks relieved as the two shake hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier coach,” he says. “I just didn’t know how to.”
Contact: Bspencer@oakpark.com
