So this kid had a dream ...

At the end of his 6th grade year in school,  my son, signed up for Athletics instead of PE for 7th grade and decided he wanted to try out for football. This came as quite a shock to me because, ummmmm, no.  No, he couldn't play football.

Why? Why?  He didn't even watch football! You see,  I'm a football fan.  More importantly, a Cowboys fan (don't even go there ... no trash talking my boys), but for most of my son's life,  he has not watched football with me.  None of my boys,  nor my ex-husband were really football fans, so the daughter and I watched the games together. He didn't grow up throwing around a football with his dad and brothers and none of them ever played football. He was 13 and suddenly wanted football in his life.  Ummmmm,  what? 

If you live in Texas,  or at least North Texas, you know this is a big deal.   We are competitive. And that's putting it mildly. Football is diehard and hardcore in The Lone Star State. Leagues are competitive and these kids are bred to win.  Parents and schools spend big money grooming their little players to be the One. The One out of how-many-the-hell-ever to get scholarships,  to get drafted, to be the next big thing and to be the thing that school gets to piggy back success off of. If you haven't been playing since at least 2cnd grade,  you really have no chance of really playing because there are plenty of other kids standing next to you who were groomed for that. 

So, ummmmm,  yeah.  I was concerned. My mother's heart worried he'd be disappointed and set himself up for failure. Plus, see,  he's small. Yeah, like always in the top 10 shortest kids in his grade (of about 400 students) and he's skinny. I'm 5' 1" and I still shop in juniors clothing. His dad is 5' 5" and small as well. Two small people made a small kid,  who now, going into 7th grade, wanted to play football. Ummmmm, no.

The summer came and went with no football practice with his brothers, father or stepdad. Then school started and he was pumped! Day one, still pumped.  Then day two, still pumped.  Then , then it was day 3. Day 3, a hurting child came home.  Day 4, a tired child came home.  Day 5, an exhausted child came home. And somewhere in between day 6 and 10 - this child came home - "Man, practice is hard.  My feet hurt, I'm tired, I had to do so much. I don't like getting tackled...". Every night at dinner,  he talked about how hard practice was,  how much they had to do,  how far coach pushed them and how much he hurt.  Then,  I noticed, all he was doing was complaining. The passion was gone,  the want was gone,  the happiness was gone. He was miserable. He wanted to be a running back because, well, he can run. Oh, yes. Damn that kid is fast! But, he was untrained and out of shape and learned a lot of other kids were faster. He learned, they've been groomed for this,  and he, yeah, he had no idea what the hell he was doing and was not equipped for this, at all. Making A team would be impossible this year,  but B team, B team he could maybe do.  But, he wasn't happy.

Quit. That's what I told him. "Son, if you're not happy, quit. You don't have to play football. If it's not what you thought it was and you don't want to do it anymore - you don't have to." I wanted him to be empowered and make a choice,  he didn't have to be miserable. Sometimes we think we want something, only to discover it wasn't what we expected. His words were not what I expected, in a small, deflated voice he said,  "I don't want to quit. I want to play, Mom. I know I can do this,  but it's hard. I'm trying, I just don't know if I'm good enough." And there it was. It was hard. I heard more than that though,  I heard that want again, I heard that passion again,  it was quiet, but it was there! The worst thing I heard though,  was he had already given up.  He was going through the motions, he was going to practice, he was showing up, but he was not "showing up!" ... he had already decided he would not succeed. Oh hell no!  Oh hell freaking no!  We do not give up on dreams in this house before we've had the chance to explore them! I honestly wasn't sure if he'd make the team,  but I told him there was no shame in not making the cut, only the accountability to actually give it our all,  even if that means discovering it's not meant for us.

So,  I called bullsh*t. I told him that all I heard from him these days was how hard it was,  not how hard he was working. I reminded him of his size and inexperience, because that's his reality. I also reminded him he's borderline dyslexic and dysgraphic (he's always right on the border and doesn't qualify for services to help him). Then I reminded him he's always had to work harder than most people. I reminded him that he's consistently on the Honor Roll and in Honors classes because he has not allowed his reality to handicap him,  instead,  he's worked hard and earned it. Why did he expect football to be any different?  And it hurt. I reminded him football hurt,  but that's part of the game.

There were only 4 spots and there were 12 kids who wanted those spots, he wasn't getting a spot without earning it because he was in the bottom rankings that day.  I told him if he really wanted it,  he needed to earn it and I didn't want to hear how "hard" it was,  everyone knows it's hard,  all I wanted to hear was how hard he worked!  If he didn't get a spot, it needed to be because the other boys worked harder,  not because he didn't work hard enough. If he wanted this, he had to own it and earn it.

The next day,  he came home tired, beaten, bruised and sore ... but he moved up.  For two weeks,  he came home exhausted,  he came home filthy, he came home smelling like hell, but he came home smiling. Every day he hugged me fiercely and said,  "I worked hard today, Mom. Man, I hurt,  but I earned it.  I'm gonna be a running back." Every day,  that boy growing into a man came home with new excitement and every day a new number. He was number 8, then 7, then 6, then 5. Then all he had to do was be 4. Just 4 and he would play on B team, he would have a spot. He didn't come home as number 4 the next day,  no.  He came home as the B team starting running back.  The small kid who never played made starting running back.

He had an impressive season! Suddenly,  he understood the game,  he became a leader and damn that boy played! He scored several times during the season, including a beautiful interception that he ran for a touchdown. My favorite play was watching him very quickly close about a 30 yard gap between him and the player with the ball, resulting in a damn nice tackle at their 10 yard line (my constant apologies to everyone that ever sits near me, I'm loud, proud and passionate ... I was very loud that day :) ). He played almost every second of every game,  more than most of the players and never asked to be taken out of the game. He got hit,  hard.  He got hurt a few times,  but he learned the hurt, for him,  was worth the adrenaline in his blood and the fever in his heart.  That boy played with fire, with passion. He was the teams best cheerleader too ;) You could always hear him on the field above everyone else,  "We got this!  We got this!", "Tighten up!", "Let's go!",  "Let's do this!".  When a man was down, he was there picking them up. At every game he refused to go down without fighting.  That boy showed up!

The short, skinny, 7th grader,  who was not at all equipped to succeed - succeeded. Because he decided to.  Because he faced his reality and accepted if he was going to get there,  he had to get better.  He accepted that it was damn hard,  but no one was going to hand him anything he thought he should have just because he wanted it.  He realized he was the only one in control of his situation and he decided to do everything he could to learn it,  live it,  love it and freaking earn that shi*t! So now, this kid,  this small kid,  who isn't so small anymore, who grew a few inches and who has been working out, this crazy kid seems to think he wants to play football again.  Except, he's decided he wants to make A team this year. Yup. Because he's now equipped himself with everything he needs for success because he tasted that victory! That sweet pure bliss of sweating under the stadium lights on a warm Texas night,  body sore, feet aching, muscles tense, reflexes sharp, eyes darting across the field at every movement, teeth clenched ... waiting for that snap, that moment, that second that ball becomes free, searching for his hands, waiting for him to take it home ... and every bit of hard work is worth it to him for those few moments of sweet success.

He had a dream and he turned it into a reality. I have a dream - to go back to school,  to get my degree, to start a business working along side others to genuinely help them in a meaningful way while still providing a good income for my family.  I'm not at all equipped for this,  I'm not completely sure I know what I'm doing and I've got some really crazy inventive ideas that are either going to be amazing or possibly ridiculous. Most days though,  most days,  I can say I worked hard and earned every single bit of that day. Some days,  it feels like hard work. Those are the days I know I'm not doing it right and I need to change my perspective and put myself in check because I do so want success!

See, my son didn't let any of his disadvantages stop him,  that kid didn't let the bad days consume his passion. He got knocked down and got his butt right back up because he found his passion. How many of us find our passion? Most of us.  Oh yes,  don't be fooled. You don't see everyone living with their passion, they may not be living it,  but I'm damn sure most of you have tasted it.  You've had that moment,  the one that screams - this is what you were born to do - this is your gift! You enjoyed that moment and basked in the temporary nirvana ... Then it was gone,  then there was a rough day,  a bad day,  something derailed you and then one day you turned around and your passion was so far behind you that you could barely see it anymore.  F*ck that!!!!! Stop making 5 million excuses and reasons why you can't achieve what you WANT! Turn your ass back around, kick away all that bullsh*t cluttering your dreams and decide to make them goals or let them go and chase new ones!  Do the hard work on the hard days, get through it because it's just damn necessary. Find the resources you need to equip yourself for success until you're working hard with that fire in your heart every single damn day because you deserve that sweet taste of success and you're the only one in your own way! 

My friends I promise you will never ever ever regret the hard work and when it's just damn hard and you get caught up in the maintenance of the dream - call me during football season. We'll sit down at an A team football game on a warm Texas night,  drinking an overpriced coke under the stadium lights, eating stale popcorn served by parent volunteers and I'll point out the small kid playing running back, who used to be a lot smaller.  You'll hear him pump up his players and you'll see him take the field, I'll tell you to watch him when the ball snaps and then you'll see it.  You'll see that fire, that passion, somehow you'll see that smile beneath his mouth guard and that twinkle in his eye and that excitement in his every movement. Your soul,  it'll remember.  It'll remember how good that feels and it'll want it back <3