Former UA QB Smith coaching in Calif.

One is to give back for what you’ve been given. The other is because you’re still taking.

Football is sometimes an itch that cannot be scratched, a forever thing. It can get you early and stay there, no matter how much it has hurt you in the past. It reminds you of your youth even while you’re still in it, and even more so years later.

On a perfect Thursday night in an Eden an hour north of Los Angeles, two friends sit on a bench and talk about the times they’ve had, the times they’re having and the times they’ll still have.

Keith Smith and Joe Smigiel are co-offensive coordinators at Newbury Park High School. Smith, a former Arizona quarterback, handles the passing game; Smigiel, the once-Wildcat offensive lineman who convinced the coaching staff to recruit his friend, handles the running game and serves as offensive line coach.

This is a dream life for them, for different reasons.

Smith gets to scratch the itch — just watch his shaking knees — and Smigiel gets to create his version of Mayberry for his kids.

“We’re best friends and we have a great time doing it,” Smigiel says. “He does the pass, I do the run and we get together on a Wednesday or a Thursday and have a couple cold ones and talk about our top 40” plays.

Somehow, they have not butted heads over the playbook.

They are simpatico when it comes to scheming. They both say they are not only teaching the kids, but each other, and it’s actually not the first time. Smigiel served as Arizona’s assistant offensive line coach in 1998 during perhaps the program’s best season, when the Wildcats went 12-1 with Smith splitting the spotlight and the snaps with Ortege Jenkins.

Now there is only friction when Smith installs a play and doesn’t tell Smigiel about it.

“He thinks we’re just going to go out there and get it done; I need to have a plan to block the damn thing,” Smigiel says.

Smith says he’s understanding it now, and text messages the new plays to Smigiel. The X’s and O’s on their phones must be worn out; their texting rates must be skyrocketing. They should really consider a family plan.

•••

And that’s really all this is about.

Smigiel made the leap back into coaching six years ago and rode solo for two years before he “finally conned (Smith) into coming back.”

Smigiel returned because he looks around and sees a set of goalposts cast against dark mountains underneath a blue-orange sky and it might be utopia.

He calls the sleepy suburb up the 101 from Los Angeles “a special place.” He moved his family to his hometown so they could have what he had. His boys play for the Pop Warner team he also coaches with Smith.

Smigiel says that if he didn’t have football, he probably would’ve ended up in a bad place.

“There are not many places you get knocked on your face and you have to come up and do it again,” he adds. He wants to impart his knowledge onto his the kids. If he coaches 50 of them, “and you impact one of them, it’s worth it.”

“A lot of these kids need football more than football needs them,” he says.

It appears the Panthers-turned-Wildcats-turned-Panthers are getting their message across. The team is 7-2 this season.

Not that they get many props from their players.

“We’re so old, they barely remember any of us,” Smigiel says.

“We have to tell stories and share YouTube highlights,” Smith adds. “‘You’re actually on YouTube, Coach?’ ‘Yeah, I’m on YouTube. ’ ”

“His number is retired, so that’s a big deal,” Smigiel responds back. “Thank God there’s a couple certificates in the locker room about me. ‘Oh, he actually did play.’ ”

They probably still could.

Smith definitely wants to.

As kickoff approaches and the gorgeous sky fades to darkness, Smith’s knees are wobbly and his palms are sweating like a cold glass of tea. If this were 21 years ago, he would be snapping on his chin strap and stretching his arm. Twenty-one years later, it’s the same thing, minus the chin strap.

“I get that feeling,” Smith says, his pulse racing. “Right now, I’m getting it as I’m talking to you right before the game. It’s that feeling like … the show is about to go off. It’s an excitement and I still get it. As long as I get that excitement, I’m gonna coach. The air … I mean, I tell these kids, ‘You guys don’t know how lucky you are. You really do not know.’

“You get chills talking about it because you mean it.”