I've been in the private sector for more than a year now, but the previous 18 years in education deeply implanted the rhythms of the school year upon me. It's been six years since I coached varsity football, but August still makes me feel like running morning practices in dew-drenched grass overlong from a summer of monsoon rains and groundskeeper sloth. (Less happy: the maintenance department's habit of not erecting the uprights until the night before the first home game. We always went for two because practicing fields goals without goal posts is pointless.)
The kids I coached are all grown up now. Many are already fathers. Several have been putting their lives on the line fighting wildfires around the West for the last few months. At least one--P.J.--is coaching football and teaching history like I used to do, but probably better. Two of my former players--Andrew and Michael--have already lost their lives in car wrecks.
My son just turned four. They don't have football for kids his age around here, but his full-contact interpretation of soccer bodes well for his potential on the gridiron.
It's been a great week for Seattle: DangeRuss and Wags signed extensions, Michael Bennett reported to camp instead of holding out, and Earl Thomas III came off the PUP list.
On the other hand, it is sad to lose D-line stalwart Tony McDaniel, and Kam's holdout is baffling.
My four-year old has been using a Nerf football lately (a birthday present in January) and turns out to have a tremendous arm and a beautiful spiral. He cannot catch for shit, however...
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I'm envious. My kid is just learning how to throw. He can't catch to save his life, either.
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