It wasn't until three weeks ago that Gerad and Gina Novak finally went to see "The Blind Side," the movie about the Memphis couple who adopted a homeless kid named Michael Oher and raised him as one of their own, eventually seeing him develop into a college football star and an NFL first-round draft pick.

Gina was nervous about going. More nervous, it would appear, than she had been nearly four years ago, when she and her husband, both teachers in the Conestoga Valley School District (where Gerad was also head football coach at the time), assumed lead roles in a similar tale.

It was at that point that they chose to become legal guardians of Kevin Kelley, CV's star running back.

It was at that point that life — their life — began imitating art, which was imitating … well, life.

Kelley, now a senior, went with them to see the movie, and every so often Gerad would give him a knowing glance: Well, that sure looks familiar. There are significant differences in the two stories — Kelley was rootless, not homeless, when he moved in with the Novaks his freshman year, and he will play next year not at a major college like Mississippi (Oher's alma mater) but at Division III Bridgewater, Va. — but for the most part what they saw is what they have lived.

"We're very lucky," said Gina, who teaches fourth grade. "You don't just take somebody into your home and think it's going to be a fairy-tale ending. That probably rarely happens."

Maybe only in Hollywood (via Memphis). And Witmer, by the looks of things.

Our story begins in the summer of 2006, when Kevin's mom, Regina Robertson, brought him to the area. A surgical technician and single mother of six, she had been forced to move repeatedly for her job. Kevin was in fact born in Rockford, Ill., and in the course of his life had also lived in Delaware and, the three years before coming to Lancaster County, Perryville, Md.

As his mother drove him into town, they passed a farm, and he recoiled: What was that smell?

"It was horrible," he recalled. "I never smelled anything like that in my life."

"Then," he added, "I saw a horse and buggy. And I was like, 'Where am I going?' "

He settled in quickly enough. His brothers had come to town a month earlier, and they introduced him around. One of the girls he met even went so far as to break out her CV yearbook.

"She was actually picking out people who I should hang out with, and who I shouldn't," he said. "It was hilarious."

Kevin also made his way over to school, where he was introduced to some of the football coaches and players. They in turn pointed him in the direction of the weight room, and he began lifting for the first time in his life. Then he went through an informal workout with some of the other guys who were going to be freshmen that fall.

"It was easy," he said. "Straight up, it was easy."

Word spread about the new kid, and Gerad Novak, who had been on vacation when Kelley first showed up, decided to take him with the varsity to a camp at East Stroudsburg. Kelley would never play a high school down at any level other than that.

But it was late in his freshman season, a season in which he ran for 785 yards as part of a 9-3 team, that Kelley was looking for a ride home after practice. The Novaks volunteered, and during the short trip Kelley told them that his mom was going to have to move again. She had only been in the area nine months — actually the longest she had ever been anywhere — but a new job was beckoning, in California.

Kevin wanted to stay. He felt comfortable at the school, felt great about the way football was going. Gina, who had never met him before that ride, had always been impressed by his enthusiasm, and had heard from Gerad that Kevin was a likable, coachable kid.

So after delivering Kevin to his mom's apartment, they sat down with Regina at her dining-room table. And it was at that point that Gina heard herself say that she and Gerad would take Kevin in.

Surprised the heck out of Regina, who now lives in Hamilton, Ohio, with four of her kids. (Another is due next month.)

"I was like, 'Wow, people still do that?' " she said over the phone recently.

Gerad was no less surprised. He and his wife had never before discussed the possibility.

"It was already made up in her mind, that she was taking him in," he said. "It was just a matter of me saying, 'OK, I guess that's what we're doing.' "

"I just had a good feeling," Gina said. "I just felt a connection with him, even though I didn't know him. I just felt it was the right thing to do."

There were those in the CV fan base (and no doubt elsewhere) who questioned the Novaks' motives, given the fact that Gerad was the head coach — he also teaches physical education — while Kevin was a rising star. But Gina insisted there was no hidden agenda, that she just thought it seemed like a good idea at the time. She and Gerad, who will be married 23 years June 18, have no children of their own, and their plans to adopt had fallen through shortly before they reached out to Regina and Kevin.

He moved into the Novaks' home, which is just a pooch punt away from the high school, in November. And by all accounts the transition was a smooth one.

"It didn't feel different to me at all," Kelley said. "It was just kind of like that's where I was supposed to be. It was kind of like I was the last piece to the puzzle."

There were rules to follow, but Kevin toed the line. It was, he said, the way Regina always taught him: Respect your elders. Respect the rules. Now he had more rules than he had ever had before, the biggest being that he had to take care of his schoolwork.

So every night he and Gina would hit the books, for hours on end — "I'll be the first to tell you some nights I didn't feel like it," Kelley said — and before long the kid who described himself as being "the idiot of the class" at his past stops, the one who said his eighth-grade report card was "horrible," was making the honor roll.

"He is highly motivated from within," Gina said. "You cannot teach motivation."

Apparently it can be taught indirectly, though. Ask Kelley about his father — whose first name is also Kevin, though their middle names differ — and the younger Kevin's face clouds over. Regina said the older Kelley, who as far as anybody knows lives in Delaware, is "a negative person" who has "never been involved" in her son's life.

Kevin said only this: "I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't let him bring me down."

As his grades picked up, so too did his production on the field. He rushed for 838 yards as a sophomore, 1,030 as a junior. The Bucks nonetheless went 1-9 each of those seasons, and after the second Gerad stepped down as coach — a decision based in no small part on the fact that he knew he would want to follow Kevin's career, once he reached college.

Nor, Gerad said, did he want to leave the cupboard bare for his successor. And he did not. Tom Nichols, once a player and assistant coach at CV, inherited an experienced bunch when he took over. Kelley was the obvious focal point, and Nichols fed him the ball, again and again and again: Kevin rushed it no fewer than 380 times, for a school-record 2,327 yards (raising his career total to 4,980, another CV mark). And the Bucks, who finished 7-5, reached the second round of districts.

Were someone to cross paths with Kelley for the first time last fall, it would have been easy for them to see the same qualities the Novaks had seen, three years earlier — boundless enthusiasm, indomitable spirit, unusual maturity. This was a kid who reveled in the competition, treasured the camaraderie.

"In football I'm a totally different dude," he said. "I just bring it up. I love to play the game. I love my teammates. I love being around them. It's just fun. That's the best environment ever — you and football and your buddies. I've been through winning seasons. I've been through losing seasons. It doesn't matter. It's great every year."

Although, he acknowledged, it was really great this past fall.

"Our team, we got together this year, finally," he said. "I was determined to make sure that I did whatever I could to make my team better my senior year, and we came away with some wins."

He finds other outlets for his energy, at other times of the year. He plays on the basketball team, competes in track and field, officiates youth-league hoops, even does the morning sports report for the school's television station.

And for the first time this year he is singing in the chorus.

Gina's idea.

"I said, 'This is my senior year; why not?' " Kevin said. "What I didn't know is it was all year. She didn't tell me. This is a legit class, every other day for the whole year. The concert [recently], we had to wear kimonos."

He keeps his mom apprised of everything over the phone. While they don't see each other often, they talk at least twice a week, every week.

And Regina likes what she hears.

"I'm very, very excited," she said. "I'm proud of him, proud I had a part in raising such a nice gentleman, good athlete and excellent student. I give credit to the Novaks. He was doing OK in school, but he just took off. His GPA is great. His grades are great. Sports are wonderful."

And the ending is of the fairy-tale variety. Something you usually only see in movies.