Last Wednesday, my son's football coach called, and invited my son to their second game on Thursday. The coach told my son that he understood that he no longer wanted to play, but he at least wanted him to come to a game, and get a feel for how things would go. My son politely declined.

But Thursday after school, my son must have gotten hit with the urge to play, because he came home and told his mother he wanted to attend the game. So he watched the game from the sidelines, and he saw his former teammates getting hit, having fun, and competing hard, just like they had done in practice for the past month or so. When the game was over, my son went up to the coach and said, "I think I want to play again." The coach asked him if he was sure, and he said yes. The next day, my son was right in practice.

Last night I called my son and asked him how football was going, and he immediately broke into a story about how he got two tackles and a sack in practice. Because of his size (I still don't know where he got it from, I was 5'4" and 125 pounds when I was 13, and my son is 5'6" 155) the coach has him playing Defensive Tackle, so I asked him if he was the new Albert Haynesworth. He laughed at me and said, "No Daddy, I'm like Warren Sapp." Sounds good to me.

Tonight is his first game, and I wish it wasn't on a weekday, so I could see it. Next time I'll be there.

We Don't Need Another Hero - Tina Turner