NEWBURY PARK, Calif. — On the first day of October, the smoke wafting out of the quad and into the evening air is not an emergency. It’s a beacon. The Rock n Roll Burger tent has its flattop grills going, turning dozens and dozens of fresh beef patties into a catered dinner. There is a Newbury Park High School football game the following night. The program eats together today. No seconds until everyone has firsts, one of the moms announces.

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Varsity players queue up. Coaches apparently get to cut the line, which explains why Cam Rising is near the front.

It does not begin to explain why he is here.

One year prior, Rising was a two-time Rose Bowl quarterback for the University of Utah who’d been given better preseason odds to win the Heisman Trophy than Travis Hunter, the ultimate winner of the award. He was a freewheeler with shoulder-length flow and a Creedence Clearwater Revival tune soundtracking his appearances at home games. He was 6 feet 2 and 220 pounds, staring down a shot at an NFL roster spot while preparing for a Week 7 matchup with Arizona State.

It was the last college football game Rising would play. He is now, at 26 years old, the offensive coordinator for his high school alma mater. A severe hand injury switched the tracks.

Rising is not the first to face this plight. High-performing athletes who can’t perform anymore fall into a differently shaped world and have to do … something. Reality eventually expects answers. “One of the biggest changes for an athlete is going from being an athlete to not being an athlete and having a purpose while you’re doing it,” says Newbury Park head coach Joe Smigiel. “Because people can get lost and end up doing things that aren’t productive.”

While Rising waits to be served a burger and fries on a disposable plate, Brady Smigiel walks toward the quad. He is the head coach’s son, and once upon a time Cam Rising’s ballboy at Newbury Park. He is also the reigning California Mr. Football, a 6-foot-5 four-star recruit who committed to the University of Michigan in April. He’s wearing a plain white T-shirt and his hat on backward but nevertheless looks the part of a headliner. As Smigiel passes by a coach, he gets a how-are-things and reports all positives. Good week of practice, the Panthers quarterback says. Excited for the game.

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Rising didn’t expect to be back here. At least not so soon. But here he surely is, part of this evolved partnership between Newbury Park signal-callers past and present. He works to add layers of polish to Smigiel’s game and to supercharge Smigiel’s football intelligence before an uncompromising life at a Big Ten blueblood.

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