COPYRIGHT@ThisNest
He has always been an athlete, our first-born. He has been throwing and running and climbing and jumping at a level above what is age appropriate since forever. He’s had a six-pack since he was a toddler, for crying out loud! I simply do not remember a time when activity was not a basic part of who he was…an athlete. He hasn’t, however, always been a football player. Much to his father’s dismay, he preferred baseball and basketball and dodgeball and, well, just about everything except football. Then, one day in the fourth grade, he made the big announcement – “I want to play football.” And so began the glory of Pop Warner.
Coming off of Pop Warner’s numerous awards and championships, we began to forecast his football career, as young parents often do. Heading into an equally successful middle school experience, the “what could be’s” we used to only imagine were getting closer on the horizon. Then, high school. High school. Our son was still so small but he was, in fact, finally a freshman. The fact of the matter is – while his athleticism was still rapidly increasing, his size was not. No matter, we were still wooed by coaches at a phenomenal local football program and made the decision to obtain a boundary exception so that our son could attend that high school instead of his own.
And this is where the fairy tale ends.
Our son is a high school graduate now, and we are so proud of him. He has overcome so much in the last four years. He stayed small for the better half of his high school years – still looking pre-pubescent even past his sophomore season. He has endured knee surgery for a torn meniscus. He has recovered from a broken scapula acquired during Spring practice. He has had severe struggles in the classroom, suffering with undiagnosed ADHD…and, yes, he spent almost the entirety of his high school football career on the sideline. Watching. Waiting. Hoping.
From his freshman year, when even during the championship game against the school he had transferred from yielded him absolutely NO playing time, he was overlooked. Overlooked, there I said it. I have been biting my tongue since 2009, so hard I thought it might bleed. I kept quiet out of respect for my son, out of concern for his relationship with the men coaching him…and because I didn’t want to be “one of those” parents. He was so excited to play in that game – against his former classmates and teammates. He was so embarrassed and disappointed though when, in fact, his only time on the field was the span of five seconds it took for one coach to send him out…and another to call him back in before the play even began. And so was established the pattern that would follow him throughout the majority of his high school football career. Watching. Waiting. Hoping.
My son held down the second-string position with his quiet pride seemingly intact, but even when the team was up by fifty plus points, they would still not put him in. He would rush home anxiously from practice because he was told he would be starting…and then learn the untruth of that at the game, all with his enormous family in the stands eager to support what they thought was finally his time. People would look at us with puzzled faces, implying the question of why. Why wasn’t he out there? I didn’t know. We didn’t know. He didn’t know. It couldn’t be because of anything behavioral…because there were starters who had been in trouble with the law. It couldn’t have been because space was limited to players older than him…because some players younger than him saw the field a lot more than he did. And so I learned to cheer, past the sidelined frame of my first-born child, for a team that really didn’t even include him. But he loved his team, and he loved his coaches, and he continued doing what he always did. Watching. Waiting. Hoping.
During his junior year, these same phenomenal coaches got their team to the State Championship. It was a huge deal for our school and community. It was a huge deal for our son, as he was anxious to play under the lights of the Dome for…even…just…one…play. But alas, even as our loss became inevitable, he just continued to stand there on the sideline. Then came the moment we had been waiting for. As a coach approached him, I saw his posture straighten, I felt a rise in his anticipation, my heart began racing to the same speed I knew his was also now racing…and my excitement quickly turned to that old familiar anger as they took the gloves, his gloves, off of his hands and gave them to one of their starting players. There is nothing quite like sharing this kind of a moment with your child. I cried that night. But he didn’t. He just kept on keeping on. Watching. Waiting. Hoping.
His senior year brought with it two things: the six-feet of height he had been waiting on, and some well-deserved love from the defensive coordinator. Ironically though, it wasn’t until after he put on his cap and gown and received his high school diploma that he would have the best high school football experience of his life. He was asked to participate in the Shriners Freedom Bowl (a charity event football game pitting the best of the league’s East against the same from the West). He scored the first touchdown of the game…the first touchdown of his high school career. As a matter of fact, the three touchdowns that helped earn him the honor of Game’s Most Valuable Player are the only three touchdowns he’s ever experienced in a high school game. His defense was on point too…but I expect that from my son. He is, after all and as I’ve always known, an incredible athlete. I could barely contain my emotion as I snapped picture after picture of him doing his (first) post-game interview. My heart was silently screaming thanks to God in heaven for giving my child this moment.
Coverage of the game ended up with a beautiful picture of my son in our local newspaper. I left a comment under that online post that conveyed my pride in my son for his performance, despite all that he’s had to overcome, including being overlooked by coaches. Uh-oh, there I said it again. Overlooked. And guess what? That’s MY truth based on MY experiences and MY memories and the sharing of disappointment with MY son. I make no apologies for MY own perspective. I have earned it with the heart I have for my child. I respect that there will be other opinions, but simply based on my belief that everyone has the right to one…not, however, because I find validity to those opinions as they relate to MY experiences. I never said being overlooked was the reason, but it is most certainly on the list of reasons that our son’s high school football career was less than memorable…until that very last game. I have earned every bit of how I feel and as “unfiltered” as some may think I am – please believe this IS filtered. Just ask my husband.
Congratulations, Son. I am so proud of you, and not only because of your performance at the Freedom Bowl – but because you have taught me lessons in strength, patience, and perseverance. I cannot wait to see what God has in store for your future but, whether it includes a football or not, I know you are going to be a bright-shining star. I love you so much. Love, Mama.
