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. The end of the story was that the writer   _  .
failed to buy his mother a house succeeded as a sportsman became a successful businessman made some money in the summer job