The Quest for the Championship

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Put Me in Coach!

8:30 at night. Practicing under the lights. The winner of Saturday’s game plays in the State Championship.

I remember vividly the day three years ago that “my baby” walked in the kitchen with his dad and announced — with such excitement: We got me signed up for tackle football.

I looked at my little will-o-the-wisp boy, and tried to share his enthusiasm. I glared at his father.

Now I’m busy studying Football for Dummies, and he’s turned into the Dude and worries about making weight.

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Tonight, I went to pick him up and they were still practicing, late into the night. Coach Bell was drinking a Coke. As I stepped onto the field, heard the crunch of the pads, the surreal glow of the lights with the generator hum in the background, I felt a palpable thrill of excitement.

The state championship. In our sights.

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Prayer Huddle

Last year, this same team was undefeated in the regular season. Had not even been scored against. We lost in the playoffs by one touchdown.

Any Given Sunday — Any team can win. Or lose.

You can see it in the coachs’ eyes; their taut intensity: not going to happen this year.

You just play this next game. Let us worry about the one after that.”

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The Equipment Manager

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4 Responses

  1. Jack Yoest says:

    Raising The Sons of Thunder

    James and JohnYour Business Blogger is on assignment with a client in Savannah, Georgia. The Equipment Manager is also on the job. Please forgive the “day in the life” posting. Self-promotion, blog braggin’: but I got the best kids in…

  2. Oh, the picture is darling! I love it!

  3. Pat Patterson says:

    The entire time I played football, jr. and sr. high my mom never came to a game or practice. At the time, as a typically self-centered kid I didn’t even think of it. Later I discovered that my mom would sit at home crying and worrying about her 6ft. 225 lbs. baby boy. My dad, unknown to me, finally convinced my mom to come to our hs. homecoming game. Naturally, I got hurt, with a knee the size of a basketball, and had to be carried off the field to boot. At the hospital I told my dad how glad I was that my mom wasn’t at that game. She didn’t tell me for years and I can’t begin to say how much I admired her fortitude. I’ve always wondered at the ability of moms to know of the stupid things their sons would do and not let on how much it scared them.

  4. Jack Yoest says:

    Raising The Sons of Thunder

    James and JohnYour Business Blogger is on assignment with a client in Savannah, Georgia. The Equipment Manager is also on the job. Please forgive the “day in the life” posting. Self-promotion, blog braggin’: but I got the best kids in…

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