This is our eighth year of community league football. We had the kids play baseball, soccer, and basketball before our oldest, when he was in 5th grade begged us to let him play football. It didn't take me 5 minutes on that the field for the first time that I realized that this was a different game then any of the others we had played. These kids were tough athletes. I told my son it was OK if he wanted to quit. I think he wanted to, but out of stubbornness, was determined to finish the season. Soon, my son gained the respect from his coaches as he learned how to hit, block, and tackle. Since then, every one of my sons (the youngest will play his first season next year) has played at least one season of football. Some of them love it and play multiple seasons. My oldest played though high school. We have one playing this year. Number 99, the one getting tackled in the picture. (There was a 9 yard gain with that carry up the middle.) I remember the look of joy when he came off the field the first time he ran a tackling drill. It read something like, "I can't believe you people are letting me run as fast as I can and grab someone and knock him down!!!" Pure boy heaven. Eight years ago I wasn't a big football fan. Now, I love the game. What is this evil side of me that loves a hard hit? I couldn't wait to hear shoulder pads knocking against each other. I think it's the strength, determination, and will power that it takes to overcome the opponent. Kids realizing their ability to be better and try harder. Kids doing hard things and feeling accomplishment and reward from the hard work and sweat of those hot August practices. Maybe it's the future, someday looking back as an adult and thinking, "if I did that then, then I can do this now."
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