Last year, my second son, Superboy, discovered football. More importantly, he discovered that football is his passion and that it allowed him to grow more into who he is. I love my boy as a footballer, he is just so much happier and content. Even when they were losing, he was just jazzed to be a part of it all.
Yesterday was probably the hardest day in his football career. All was excitement as they got on the bus for their trip to the first game of the season. Dad is coaching this year, so he was there too. Their team then won a decisive victory against their rivals. 5 touchdowns! The first one of the game, with a huge run, was scored by Superboy's backup.
Remember, Superboy broke his arm 2 weeks ago in practice. He couldn't play. He couldn't help his team to victory. He couldn't have his taste of that delicious pie.
Now don't get me wrong. That kid has been at every practice, helping his team with his great understanding and eye for the game. He sat on the sidelines, being eyes for his coaches during this game. Being his teams biggest cheerleader. Encouraging his teammates, patting their backs after a tough play and screaming at the top of his lungs at the great ones. No one was happier to see their team win than my boy.
But he truly felt the sting of not being part of it all. Not running that touchdown in himself. Who wouldn't want to be that guy?
He had a pretty rough rest of his day. I saw the tears welling in his eyes more than once. My heart broke for him, I ached to trade him my good arm for his broken wing. I am worried about him, about depression setting in. I just pray that he turns to God to sustain him and that God heals him quickly so that he can get back to his love. I love my footballer, but I am so very proud of my boy who can't play. That team couldn't ask for a better support than him. He has really shown the kind of man that he is. And I couldn't be more proud.