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Old 05-09-2007, 02:10 PM   #10 (permalink)
AZTarHeel
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It was like any other summer morning for 18-year-old Andrew Zarzour.

He awoke well before dawn but not before his parents and guzzled down a couple of tall glasses of his mom's beloved homemade fruit juice. Today's frothy creation featured fresh oranges, pineapple and grapefruit, all spun together using one of those "Juiceman" contraptions pitched on infomercials.

After a hearty and healthy breakfast, Zarzour retired to the screened-in porch to read that morning's installment of Our Daily Bread and a few chapters in his Bible (every year he tries to complete the entire Bible-in-a-year program. Last year, he got through about 75 percent).

After a few minutes of prayer and quiet contemplation, Zarzour slipped on his well-worn Phillies cap, raced out the screen door, grabbed some of his most prized equipment and jumped into his dad's old beat-up Ford truck. He spun out of the long gravel driveway and rumbled off to pick up his two best friends, Brandon Weaver and Robbie Maine. The three had played sports together as long as they could remember, starting together in T-ball, Junior Hornets basketball and Pop Warner football.

Brandon was Bunn High's star shortstop (and starting QB in football). Robbie had been Zarzour's catcher since Little League All-Stars.

"You're late," Brandon teased as he jumped into the truck, throwing his own equipment in the bed. "It's 6:07 a.m. We're on a tight schedule here. Snap, snap."

"Very funny," Andrew said. "Now, let's go pick-up Robbie and get to work..."
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