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Published: December 8, 2007
Updated: 12/08/2007 12:44 am
Always the coach, Bob Henriquez usually takes home his work. There are many late-night sessions with game film.
But this season, there are also the quiet times, the sweet times, when he takes a break and cuddles his 4-month-old son, Drew Alexander. When the baby smiles at him, Henriquez melts. And he sings a soft lullaby in Spanish, just as his father had once done.
Henriquez's wife, Carrie, has walked in on this scene and stopped, careful not to make any noise or spoil the mood.
She melts, too.
"It's beautiful," she said.
Tonight, Henriquez can realize a life-long goal. The Tampa Catholic Crusaders (11-2) are playing for the Class 2A state championship against Madison County (12-1) at Orlando's Citrus Bowl.
For a long time, Henriquez wondered if he'd ever get this opportunity. TC's celebrated teams in the mid-1990s never reached the state final. When Henriquez returned for a second stint at coaching his alma mater in 2005, it was a repair job for a once-powerful program that had degenerated, almost beyond recognition.
And now this.
"It has been a blessed year," said Henriquez, 43.
One that was changed forever July 26, when 7-pound, 4-ounce Drew bounced into the world.
One that has special meaning since Henriquez became a first-time father, a daddy.
Rolling With The Changes
Henriquez always wanted children. But at the same time, whether it was coaching, winning a seat as a state representative or working in private business, he was always busy with other things.
There were moments when he rationalized his time had passed.
"Everything happens for a reason," Henriquez said. "I'm more settled in my life now. It's something I can appreciate even more."
It changes your perspective.
Henriquez always heard those words from other fathers. He thought, yeah, that's probably true. But he had no idea.
He never fit the profile of an old-school coach. "I don't subscribe to the 'Junction Boys' mentality," he said. Friends say he has always been a big teddy bear - with a huge heart.
But for Henriquez, a Princeton man, becoming a father has further opened his eyes.
"Any coach might tell you it's difficult to understand parents of players sometimes, the way they come at you," Henriquez said. "But now you have greater understanding of that. They have such a love, such a caring for their child. That is a powerful force.
"I never thought there could be something so tiny, but something you love so much, more than anything. You think you understand. Then you become a parent - and it all changes."
Nothing Else Really Matters
When TC's parents and cheerleading sponsor awarded a green No. 77 HENRIQUEZ jersey to Drew before the Crusaders' first contest, Carrie noticed a brief crack in her husband's game face.
Crusader players love it when Drew comes around in the stroller. Senior running back Drew Zink still halfway believes the baby was named for him. Henriquez, with a wry grin, sometimes doesn't dispute that claim, saying, "That will keep him playing hard, so he won't let down my son."
Henriquez doesn't linger at school if it's not necessary - having a home within walking distance of TC's campus is helpful - because he wants time to talk and sing with Drew, to roll around on the floor with his son. And yes, Drew already has watched his share of game film.
"There's such joy," Henriquez said. "But we knew the tough times, the tragedies."
Last Christmas, Henriquez lost his older brother, Ronnie. His sister, Linda, also had passed. Both of his parents, Violet and Mario, had died years earlier.
One of the TC coaches put a bench on the sideline with a plaque to honor Violet and Mario, the parents who were so proud of their youngest son's accomplishments. Earlier this season, Henriquez sat on that bench during a junior varsity game, feeding a bottle to Drew.
Sometimes, Henriquez looks into Drew's green eyes and sees his father, his mother, maybe his brother or sister. The wonder of that just amazes him.
"Absolutely, we want to win a state championship," Henriquez said. "But we all need things in our life to remind us it's just a game.
"When you see that little life you are responsible for, nothing else really matters."
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