LOUISVILLE, Ky. -- Nearly eight months had passed since Louisville quarterback Reggie Bonnafon lost his best friend, but as he slumped into his bedroom after a miserable spring practice in early April, the wound was fresh.

The months that followed Wallace Bonnafon's death were a steady march forward for Reggie, one foot in front of the other because there were always games and practices and workouts and film study and class, but today he needed his dad.

Wallace and Reggie had been inseparable -- partly father and son, but mostly two pals who loved talking football.

"Growing up, if you ever saw my dad anywhere, I was right next to him in his pocket," Reggie said.

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It was after the bad games and rough practices that they talked the most. Wallace always had confidence to spare, and all Reggie needed were a few words of encouragement from his dad to rebound. Now that void was overwhelming.

After that April practice, Reggie phoned his mother, Rosalind, and she cried when she realized why he'd called. He reached out to his uncle, Wallace's older brother, but it wasn't the same. He texted friends and coaches, but what he wanted more than anything was to just hear his father's voice telling him things would be OK.

Then he spotted a letter tacked to the cork board above his desk. Reggie had pinned it there when he first arrived on campus last summer, three months before his father died. Wallace had written the note while his son attended a camp during his senior year at Trinity High in Louisville, but Reggie hadn't reread it since. He pulled it off the wall and scanned his father's familiar handwriting, and for the first time in months, he began to cry.

"It was everything I wanted to hear from him, things he'd tell me if he was still here," Reggie said. "That was a really powerful moment for me."

The letter began with some history, a reminder of what Reggie had meant to his father.

Wallace Bonnafon was something of an institution around Louisville. He worked security at Churchill Downs for a decade, spent years dealing with patients as a nurse in a psychiatric hospital and mentored at-risk kids at an alternative school in the city for another 10 years. He was a fixture on the sidelines at Pop Warner games and Little League fields, and while he doted on Reggie, he treated virtually every kid he met as his own.

Reggie Bonnafon's mother, Rosalind, called football "a saving grace" for the family after her husband's death. Courtesy of Bonnafon family

"He was one of the first people to tell me I could actually become something if I put my mind to it," said Daeshawn Bertram, a linebacker at Western Kentucky and a former teammate of Reggie's at Trinity. "My dad was incarcerated, and [Wallace] was a role model to me."

But at the time Reggie was born -- a surprise to his parents, he said -- Wallace was at a crossroads. He needed something to grab his attention, he wrote in the letter, and when Reggie entered the world, everything changed.

As Reggie grew up, father and son were tied at the hip.

Wallace coached, Reggie played. Wallace taught, Reggie learned.

Reggie worried, Wallace encouraged. Reggie talked, Wallace listened.

"They were just in sync with each other," Rosalind said.

Nothing brought Wallace more joy than seeing his son on the football field. He'd coached Reggie during his early years and been at every game in high school, so when Wallace saw his son take his first snaps for Louisville against Murray State on Sept. 6 of last year, he leapt to his feet and shouted so feverishly his wife thought something was wrong.

"He was just floating," Rosalind said.

Afterward, Wallace and Reggie celebrated.

Nine days later, he was gone. Wallace died of a heart attack at age 51, three games into Reggie's college career.

Courtesy of Bonnafon family

The funeral was held on a Saturday while Reggie's teammates were in Miami playing Florida International. Coach Bobby Petrino texted and called, checking on his freshman amidst the chaos of game day. Midway through the third quarter, starting quarterback Will Gardner went down with a knee injury. Suddenly football and Reggie's real world were indelibly intertwined.

"The day of his dad's funeral was pretty much the day he became our starting quarterback," offensive coordinator Garrick McGee said. "It's weird stuff, man."

McGee understood the gravity of the situation. His father died midseason when he was a coordinator at Northwestern in 2006, and the pull of family and the weight of emotions were hard to ignore, even amid the demands of football. But McGee also knew that getting back into a routine might be the best course of action for Reggie. And for a family that had lived vicariously through his on-field exploits, football might be a respite.

The next Saturday, Reggie amassed 252 total yards in a win over Wake Forest. A week later, he threw his second touchdown pass of the year in a win over Syracuse. After the games, he missed hugging his father, but during the action, things felt normal, and with each play he gave his family a reason to smile.

"It was a saving grace," Rosalind said. "We just kind of went on autopilot and went along with it. I'd cry some games, cry the whole game, but it was just to know that I was still in the midst of people who cared. It gave us a lot of good times to still share together."

McGee kept close tabs on his freshman, making sure he wasn't bottling up feelings or pushing himself too hard. Gardner returned to the starting role after a few weeks, but by late November Reggie was back in the huddle and accounted for three touchdowns in an electric 31-28 win at Notre Dame. He was both ecstatic and exhausted.

"I think he probably gave it all he had in that game," McGee said. "He probably emptied the tank."

In the letter, Wallace remembered how perceptive his son had always been. "Eyes wide open, ears too, missing nothing," the letter read. Reggie learned from his father's struggles, watched Wallace overcome.

The struggles are part of life, Wallace had always said. Give everything you have, and you'll never be disappointed.

This spring was filled with ups and downs, but as his sophomore season approaches Reggie's expectations are high. He ended spring practice on a high note, and many Louisville fans have him pegged as this year's starting quarterback on a full-time basis. He's been tested like few other players ever will be, but that's given his teammates and coaches an unflinching understanding of how tough he is.

"There's not a better kid than Reggie," McGee said. "When he walks in a room, he lights it up."

Reggie Bonnafon keeps several mementos of his father, Wallace, close to him. Courtesy of Bonnafon family

Reggie still wishes he could pick up the phone and talk to his dad, but Wallace is always nearby. When he showed up to the football building in need of a haircut, McGee scolded him by saying, "What would your daddy say about that look?" When he calls home, Rosalind does her best to talk football the way her husband used to, and it always makes Reggie laugh.

A few weeks ago, Reggie was at the mall with some teammates when a passerby asked for his picture. Reggie happily obliged, but before the fan walked away, he said, "I knew your dad." Wallace had been the man's counselor in grade school and had helped him through some hard times when he was young.

It's amazing how often that happens, Reggie said. Wallace touched so many lives, encouraged so many people. And that was the heart of his letter to Reggie. Times will get tough. They always do. The trick is to keep moving forward.

"Now every time I have a tough time in my life, I can go to that paper and hear those wise words from my dad I always heard growing up," Reggie said.

There's another reminder Reggie keeps close, too. It's a wristband his father used to give to his students upon graduation. The bracelets were largely treated as junk, and Wallace would find dozens of them in the dumpster after the ceremonies ended, but the message inscribed on them meant something to him. So one evening, he passed one along to Reggie and made him promise to wear it. It read: "Know the rules, play the game, own your destiny."

Reggie wears it everywhere, and its meaning varies depending on the moment. It reminds him to keep his nose in the playbook. It reminds him to be true to himself. It reminds him that he can accomplish anything by putting in the work. It reminds him of his dad, and everything Wallace meant to his family and his community. It reminds him of the man he hopes to become.

"I was blessed to have him as my dad," Reggie said. "And I'm just trying to be even half the man he was."