4th and 1

   Life has to go on as much as I don’t want it to sometimes.  In a way, life sort of resumed this week.  By life, I mean football and reading school emails.  To say my mind is a combination of every natural disaster put together would be an understatement, but there are things that have to be done.  School and football pay the bills, and bills have to be paid.  The whistle still needs to be blown, plays still need to be called, and kids still need somebody to talk to.  I look at it all though way differently now, especially after the first week back.

  I needed football more than football needed me.

   I work my tail off and would like to think that I’m a pretty decent coach.  I’m replaceable though, and if I never came back, the game of football would never miss a beat.  The Greene Devils would be just fine. 

   I only say that because going back to the fieldhouse was a difficult decision for me.  More difficult than anyone knows or that I’ll go into detail about.  I can’t look at the bleachers without seeing my little girl in her Mom’s arms in the 3^rd row 2^nd seat.  I can’t look in the corner of the endzone without picturing meeting them there after a game and getting to hold her.  It’s hard to stand on the sidelines without staring into the sky and wondering if she’s watching everything that’s going on.  My sunglasses hide tears that I can play off as sweat, because it is hotter than 7 hells on that turf sometimes.

   These kids don’t know that though.  They probably know I’m struggling a little bit.  They probably get that I’m not the same as I was before.  They haven’t changed a bit.  I still have to look at them flex on me because deep down they know I’m proud of their work even when I call them small.  The big boys think twice about that 2^nd sandwich because they know I’ve been there too.  They still sit on my desk all nasty even though they know it pisses me off and just smile when I walk in the room and catch them.  I still say “WTF” to myself about 50 times a day wondering what goes through their minds. 

   As I laid down to sleep last night though, I realized I needed that.  I realized in some way, shape, or form, they still needed me just a little.  One kid said, “It’s nice to have you back Coach, I missed you out here.”  With that one sentence, I was ok again, I made the right decision.

   You can change sweaty, smelly high school boys and a game into whatever you want to when something like this happens.  People lose children, parents, and friends every single day.  Death is something that we will never master dealing with.  It takes words from your mouth and turns your days into disasters.  Losing someone you love more than life itself takes the joy and happiness out of your life in an instant.  Their life is over, but yours must go on.  You have to find joy again in something.  I was lucky enough for it to find me on the 20 yard line.  I needed football more than football would ever need me.