My youngest son was in first grade when his dad passed. In second grade, he started playing flag football. Football quickly became one of his favorite sports. When he was in third grade, he stayed at practice late one evening dreaming up new plays with his coach. I remember him coming home that night and immediately putting pen to paper drawing up a new offensive play. Getting him to do homework has always been a chore, but he found joy in drafting football plays.

This year my youngest is in fifth grade and he has moved to tackle football. Playing tackle requires a hefty time commitment with his team practicing 3 times a week. It’s important to learn how to properly tackle and take a hit to minimize injury. He has wholeheartedly embraced this new challenge and doesn’t complain about the time commitment, getting hit, or learning new aspects of the game.

With the injury risk of football, I will always worry about him. On the other hand, I am hopeful he can pursue this as long as he wants to, I know football is a competitive sport. Lastly, I often find it surreal as I sit in the stands to watch him play.

It boggles my mind that I have watched our son learn and grow and love something his dad will never witness. I wonder if we’d have let him play tackle this year or wait. Since I didn’t have him here, the flag versus tackle decision fell squarely on my shoulders.

This weekend we travelled to Manhattan, KS to play on the Kansas State University football field. He was excited to play in a college stadium. I was reminded of Tony. While Tony didn’t attend K-State for college, some of his favorite people did. He loved the K-State football team, and he called Manhattan, Man-happiness. Tony would have loved the whole experience so much. In his absence, I tried to take it in, but it would have been a whole lot cooler if he’d been siting next me. Although he would have tried to make me wear K-State purple and that would have been a no go.