Today's post almost wasn't!
We had a thing tonight...it was a banquet for the boys' football teams. It was so nice...as much as I exaggerate that we live in the ghetto, it makes me proud to have my boys growing up with these experiences.
I hope to be able to put into words, exactly what I am feeling...Listening to their coaches, men who have full time jobs, some of whom only share custody of their boys, talking about their teams as if they are made up entirely of their own flesh and blood. These men spend every night from late July until well into October, living and breathing football. Not only teaching them the plays, but teaching them life lessons. For the most part, they lead by example. There is no favoritism, as far as I can tell...and I have 2 sons, one who is a natural athlete, and one not so much...so I know that some kids have to sit the bench...but it's ok. If they are a part of something that they love...it's ok. Their is one coach who cries every year at the banquet. Not because he is a sissy, just the opposite in fact, but because he LOVES these kids. He loves the sport and he loves the sportsmanship. I was a huge skeptic when we first got Big involved in the sport. I mean, he was 7 years old. Did he really need to be playing tackle football? Let alone doing it every night? From late July? But these coaches, they were the perfect amount of tough and strong and caring and nurturing and loving. I would watch the practice and think...this isn't so bad...and Big still loves his first coach! Little was lucky enough to play for him this year. It was truly an honor. For all of us. Big has had the same, sentimental coach for a few years now...and honestly, I couldn't be more thankful for these men.
Little's team won the championship this year...and I can't think of anyone who deserved that trophy more than his coach.
I guess thanks is probably an insignificant word, given all that they have done for my kids...but it is the only word I can think of...