The hyper kid has become the zen master.

Time for a bit of a story.

I grew up playing sports. I played organized sports between the ages of 5 and 18, but the real competition was in my backyard. I grew up in the days when you were kicked out of the house for the day, and not allowed back in until the street lights came on. And even then, we fought to stay out longer.

Baseball, basketball, football, and street hockey, turned to “Balloons” and “Sardines” after dark. (Advanced games of hide-and-seek, with clever names, that were OK to parents of younger participants.) We tried the glow-in-the-dark balls (of various sports), but those 90’s variants didn’t do the trick.

My ego might think that my house was the “main field / court” of the neighborhood, because I saw myself as a psuedo-Godfather of the neighborhood, but the truth most likely lied in simple geography. My driveway was the largest and flattest; and my backyard was conveniently connected to an older couple’s that didn’t care that we used their yard as the outfield / half a football field. (Shoutout to Norman and Norma!) I could go on for days about the duck-taped bats, electrical-taped balls, and the ever-moving bases to prevent trampled baselines in my Dad’s precious lawn.

I was on a traveling baseball team in junior high, but didn’t feel the same drive after entering high school. While I played varsity high school baseball in the spring, I transitioned to coaching in my summers. I was, sadly, too old to run the neighborhood games anymore, so I took on the job of coaching Parks and Rec summer baseball and softball. I covered all ages, ranging from 4–14. Each group presented its own challenges, but I found them each rewarding. It was one of the most rewarding times of my life. (And maybe still is.)

Fast forward to my final summer coaching.

I coached Parks and Rec baseball for 3 years, softball for 2, and during my final summer, before moving to Arizona to attend Arizona State University for college for Industrial Design, I took on an official NFL Flag Football team. (A new thing for Bismarck, North Dakota at the time.)

I played PLENTY of backyard football, but I personally only played organized football in junior high (at the now defunct, Hughes Middle School). Baseball was my game, but I still loved football, none the less. I was happy to take on the challenge. With the exception of a few dads, the rest of the coaches were fellow summer baseball coach transplants.

I forget how it exactly worked, but I can remember the placement of teams being psuedo-draft like. I ended up coaching the Ravens. Being a born, and raised, Vikings fan, I was just happy to have some purple.

I was also a bit surprised to have drafted a quarterback, that nearly saw eye-to-eye with me. That quarterback was none other than Carson Wentz.

I was 18 years old, 6'1", and this 10 year old was standing just a few inches shorter than me. Of course we took advantage. He already had a cannon for an arm at that time, so I drew up plays that had him throwing bombs to a short, fast kid on the team, while everyone else cleared out. It worked. It was Flag Football! And when it didn’t, we ran dump-off screen plays, and sometimes I let Carson run. Those also worked. I only coached Flag for a single season, and sadly we had to settle for 3rd place, but I have no doubt we would have dominated the following year.

Carson was a talent that made my young coaching job easy. I didn’t fully see it at the time, as my thoughts were distracted with moving across the country for college, but looking back on it now, it was right there. Not only was he over-talented for his age, but he had the tenacious drive that is necessary to play at the next level. He was hyper, in a good way.

Carson didn’t live far from my parent’s home in Bismarck, and used to walk over with a crew, and demand a play session.

“Coach!” I’d hear.

“Play with us!”

I’d oblige for a while, and then cut them off.

Regardless, his crew kept playing in my yard, for hours. The very yard I used for years, with our neighborhood’s originals. They were the new crew, taking over.

Anyone that questions Carson’s talent and drive, doesn’t understand the North Dakotan tenacity. We are a hearty bunch, that may be “too nice” at times, but should never be underestimated. We fight for what we believe in. We fight for what we love. We fight for what we deserve.

Maybe I should have gone to NDSU, but I moved to Arizona, all by my lonesome, at the age of 18. I graduated from ASU in 4 years (even after changing majors and working part-time), then worked for nearly a decade at an internationally successful company, and now employ myself.

Carson will earn, and deserves, everything ahead of him.