Presto Pizza Patties

End of July. Two-a-days started Monday. Five-thirty in the morning at the field. Five p.m. back at the field. The day in between for naps, food, film, and trying not to think about the day. Camp is brutal. Camp is necessary. Camp is the place where the team is decided. Twenty-two years of head coaching and assistant coaching and I have run more two-a-day camps than I can count, and they all blur together into a single composite memory of dawn light on a wet field, ninety teenage boys in helmets, the smell of bacon from the field house kitchen, the sound of cleats on grass, and the slow, building knowledge that we are about to have a season.

This year is different. This year is the senior year. Not Diego's senior year — well, also Diego's senior year — but the senior year for fifteen kids on this team, kids I have been coaching since they were freshman, kids whose families I know, kids who I am going to spend the next four months either preparing for college or preparing for the rest of life. By the time you are coaching seniors, the relationship has deepened beyond X's and O's. You are coaching humans. The football is the curriculum. The humans are the point.

Diego came home from morning practice on day one, sat at the kitchen island, ate the post-practice burrito I had made him at five a.m. and reheated when he got home at ten, and said, "Dad, the team is ready." I said, "Yeah." He said, "Like, actually ready. Daquan is a different kid." I said, "I know." He said, "Marcus is throwing fast." I said, "I know." He said, "I think we win it." I said, "Diego, do not say that." He said, "Why." I said, "Because saying it makes it harder. The teams that win it do not say it. They prepare for it without saying it. The saying it is a tax on the doing it. Pay no taxes you do not have to pay." He nodded. He took another bite. He said, "Got it." That was the conversation. He has not said the word championship to me since. I think he has internalized the discipline. I will see how it holds in November.

I have been making a giant batch of breakfast burritos every Sunday night for the camp week. Forty-two burritos. One for each player who shows up to the morning film session at five-fifty before practice. That is a tradition I started ten years ago in Albuquerque and have continued at every program since. The kids know to come twenty minutes early and get a burrito. The burritos are the price of admission to the film session. The film session is where the season actually gets installed. The burritos are the bribe that makes the film session attendance solve itself.

This year's burritos are eggs, chorizo (real Mexican chorizo, which is a paste that fries up loose, not the Spanish kind that is a cured sausage), green chile, potatoes, and cheese, wrapped in a flour tortilla, sealed in foil. I prep the fillings on Sunday afternoon and assemble Sunday night and the kids eat them Monday morning. Tuesday morning is leftover plus a fresh batch I make at four a.m., which is the worst part of the week and which I have been doing for ten years and have never once skipped. The kids eat them like communion wafers. Daquan, who eats more than any human I have coached, eats two and asks for a third, and I always have a third for him because Daquan is going to play in the SEC next year and his metabolism is a national resource.

The team looks good. The team looks better than it has looked in any August in the eight years I have been at this program. The line is older and bigger than it has ever been. The defense is faster. The QB and the receiver corps are operating with a chemistry that you cannot install — you can only nurture it after it grows on its own, and Marcus and Diego and the other receivers have been throwing together since April, and it shows. The schedule is hard. The first game is in two weeks. There are nine more after that. Then the playoffs. Then, with luck and good health and a ball that bounces our way three or four times in November, a championship game in early December at Mile High.

I am not saying the word out loud. I am, like Diego, observing the discipline. But I am writing it here, in this paper journal, on a Wednesday night in late July, because I have to put it somewhere. The thought has weight. The thought is heavier than I can carry without putting some of it down. So: I think we win it. I think this is the team. I think the year I have been working toward for fifteen years is happening, right now, at the field where my son and Daquan and Marcus and the others are running drills. I am not going to say it again until December. But I am writing it. And I am praying. And I am cooking burritos at four in the morning. And I am preparing. The road bends. Feed your people. The game is won at the table.

The burritos are the tradition — the thing I’ve done at every program since Albuquerque — but on the nights I’m running low on chorizo or just need something the kids can eat standing up between film clips, I reach for Presto Pizza Patties. They’re fast, they’re filling, and they hit that same combination of protein and comfort that makes a teenage lineman feel like someone fed him on purpose. Daquan once ate four of them in the time it took me to cue up the second quarter film, and that is the only endorsement a recipe needs.

Prep Time: 10 min | Cook Time: 15 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 6

Ingredients

1 1/2 lbs ground beef
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/3 cup pizza sauce, plus more for serving
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/2 teaspoon onion powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
6 slices mozzarella cheese
6 hamburger buns or English muffins, toasted
Optional toppings: sliced pepperoni, sauteed bell peppers, mushrooms

Instructions

Mix the patties. In a large bowl, combine ground beef, Parmesan, pizza sauce, oregano, garlic powder, onion powder, salt, and pepper. Mix until just combined — do not overwork the meat.
Form and cook. Divide mixture into 6 equal patties about 3/4 inch thick. Heat a large skillet or griddle over medium-high heat. Cook patties 4–5 minutes per side until cooked through (internal temp 160°F).
Melt the cheese. In the last minute of cooking, lay a slice of mozzarella on each patty, cover the pan, and let the cheese melt completely, about 60 seconds.
Toast the buns. While patties rest, toast buns cut-side down in the same skillet or under the broiler for 1–2 minutes until lightly golden.
Assemble and serve. Spread a spoonful of warm pizza sauce on the bottom bun, add the cheesy patty, layer on any optional toppings, and close with the top bun. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Presto Pizza Patties — Quick Fuel for the Team That Shows Up at Dawn