It's that time of year again...Football!

(from the 2010 season)

He's not the fastest, toughest or most skilled player on the team.
He's not likely headed for the NFL.

That doesn't matter.
I couldn't be prouder of this boy and football has little to do with it.

He doesn't play because his friends do. He doesn't have any friends that play football.

He doesn't play because his dad pushes him to play. His dad doesn't actually care much about football.

He doesn't play because it's something to do. He has plenty of other things he could be doing with his time.

He plays because he loves the game and has since he was under two years old.

This boy has lived with joint pain nearly every day since 18 months old, maybe even before that, but he couldn't tell us. You'd never know it unless you are one of the few closest to him to see his subtle signs. The grimace on his face as he bends and twists trying to get relief. The wincing and moans as he tries to get up and moving after periods of being still for too long. The constant moving...bending knees, rolling shoulders, bending fingers.
He's not a complainer.
He will never tell you that he hurts, unless you are his parents or his doctor and even then he hesitates...a nod, a shrug, a pointing finger to where it hurts the worse in that moment. That doesn't mean it's not there. It's there every single day in varying degrees. He will not let it stop him from doing things he loves.

Often he battles dizzyness, nausea, ringing in his ears, headaches. When he first put on a football helmet last year, after years of dreaming of it, he almost quit. It was too much. The helmet bouncing on his head made his already pounding head feel like it would explode. He fought through it. He was not going to let this destroy his dream.

Anxiety and selective mutism are constant companions and it feels like he's in a chokehold, unable to get words out even when he tries. He pushes past the fear and puts himself out there anyway. He's getting more comfortable this year...answering simple yes/no questions and counting through warm up exercises, albeit quietly. He isn't the one that's going to be vocal, boisterous and get the team riled up. He will be there though, just as committed and just as ecstatic as everyone else, even if you don't see it.

GI troubles: reflux, food allergies/sensitivities, abdominal pain are along for the ride too. Like everything else, he fights through it and pushes forward.

He has nothing to prove, yet every time he steps on that field he is proving that victory is about far more than a football game. It's about far more than winning, losing or even playing well.

We think Victory is in those big moments...

When a game is won.

When the underdog rises up to be a star.

When all seems lost and seemingly out of nowhere there is triumph.

Certainly, those are times of victory and rejoicing.

I believe, however, that sometimes our biggest victories come in much smaller moments, with much less fanfare.

When we sacrifice our dreams to live out something completely different.

When we die to self and serve others.

When a child speaks for the first time at 10,
or ties his shoes at 12,
or first sits and listens to a book being read at 7
or potty trains at 6
and a million other similar small moments that really are the big moments...the big victories.

Last night was one of those victory moments. Seemingly small. Unseen. Unspoken. Yet it spoke volumes.

Rocklin had a very difficult afternoon yesterday. He felt terrible. The "usual stuff" all added up with a whopper of a headache and horrible nauseousness tossed in for good measure.

At 4pm, he wasn't sure he'd be able to make it through 2.5hrs of football practice in full gear and the heat. It was his call. While I'm a firm believer in honoring our commitments and I expect my kids to play if we pay for a sport, I will never force them when it's clear they have a legitimate reason not to play.

He opted to go and hoped he'd feel better once he got out there.

He didn't. In fact, he felt worse.

He is not prone to crying. I've seen him in excruciating pain, barely able to move and still he rarely sheds a tear.

Last night the tears came.

Not a lot. He tried hard to keep it together. Yet, as he sat in my chair during a water break, the tears flowed silently down his cheek. His lip quivered as he said, "I think I need to go home."

Again it was his call, but each time he chose not to tell the coach he felt horrible and needed to leave. He was determined to try and push through it. Each water break got him a little closer to being finished and gave him a little more encouragement to keep fighting.

If you were on the sidelines you could tell he wasn't 100 percent, yet despite appearances he was giving all he had in the circumstances.

Perseverance and determination aren't always visible or tangible, but they are always on the road to victory.

I'd still be proud of him if he had tried and found himself unable to go on. The victory is not found in reaching the end. It's found in the pushing and giving of everything you have in every moment of life...sports or otherwise. Reaching the goal, winning the game, getting a reward...those make the victory sweeter, but they aren't the foundation of victory.

He's not the fastest, toughest or most skilled player on the team.
He's not likely headed for the NFL.

That doesn't matter.
I couldn't be more proud of my boy and football has nothing to do with it.