The Price of a Dream
I grew up poor. We had little money, but plenty of love and attention. I understood that no matter how poor a person was, they could still afford a dream. My dream was athletics.
By the time I was sixteen, I was good at baseball and football. My high-school coach was Ollie Jarvis. He not only believed in me, but taught me the difference between having a dream and showing conviction .
One summer a friend recommended me for a summer job. This meant a chance for money in my pocket -- cash for dates with girls, certainly, money for a new bike and new clothes, and the start of savings for a house for my mother.
Then I realized I would have to give up summer baseball to handle the work schedule, and that meant I would have to tell Coach Jarvis I wouldn't be playing. I was dreading this, but my mother said: " _ "
When I told Coach Jarvis, he was as mad as I expected him to be. "Your playing days are limited. You can't afford to waste them," he said.
I stood before him with my head hanging, trying to think of the words that would explain to him why my dream of buying my mom a house.
"How much are you going to make at this job, son?" he demanded.
"Three twenty-five an hour," I replied.
"Well," he asked, "is $3.25 an hour the price of a dream?"
That question laid bare for me the difference between wanting something right now and having a goal. I devoted myself to sports that summer, and within the year I was drafted by the Pittsburgh Pirates to play rookie-league ball, and offered a $20,000 contract. I signed with the Denver Broncos in 1984 for $1.7 million, and bought my mother the house of my dream.
When the boy was offered a job, he wanted to   _  .
balance summer baseball and the work schedule refuse the job offer for summer baseball give up summer baseball for the job ask his coach Jarvis for advice