Dear Football…
Dear Football,
As I write this, my mind reaches to a story from Harry Potter—the story of ‘The Tale of the Three Brothers’ from the Beedle and the Bard.
That is how I see you, the game of Football. In so many ways, you are different—you are not a wand and you are not death, but the story still plays out. And I believe that at each point of my career, from college and up until this point, nine years later, I have been one of the three brothers.
You gave me no wand, but you gave me a magical sense of power. As I walked on the campus at the University of Louisville, there was a sense of confidence I didn’t have before. When I was drafted to the Pittsburgh Steelers in 2017, there was money in my account I had never seen or thought of before. You were not a magical wand, but you were a false sense of pride, that when I tried to claim as my own, robbed me of my true identity and left me a shallow shell of myself at times.
There was no resurrection stone, but there was false hope. False hope in a god that couldn’t deliver. The idea of sitting around waiting for a phone call—some that came and others that didn’t. Ultimately, the idea of a rising phoenix was merely a half-life that left well more to desire than it fulfilled.
As I write these words, I haven’t spent much time as the third brother, but I think that’s the point. That as I meet you at the end, I see you as an old friend and what you should be: a game. Not power or hope, but a friend to shake hands with, and part mutually as I meet the end. Staying in my cloak of identity, of “Who I am” and “Whose I am.” Knowing my true identity kept me veiled from fallacies that you so easily sold me—not in your own fault, but in where I was trying to fill voids.
Ultimately, Football, you were a route that God used in my life, and as long as I look at you through the correct lens, I can enjoy the path we took together. I can look you in the eyes and embrace the journey, the story that we experienced together.
Along the way, I found Jesus, I found myself, I found my wife, friends, family, and perspective. The idea of setting a goal and listening to where God was leading me. To listening to people around me and learning. To stop complaining and learn compassion. These were all roads I wouldn’t have learned without you. That is from the right perspective.
I can’t hide the pain you inflicted on me, especially in my immature mindsets—pain of misplaced power and hope in wrong places. I experienced unfulfilled goals and dreams. I missed weddings, funerals, graduations, and baptisms. My family made sacrifices for holidays and our relationships in general. Struggling to keep my home life afloat so that I could be at your beck and call.
You strained my relationship with my wife not for what you did but because of the value I placed on you, you were my identity…
…
Football, you had such an impact on me that I wrote a book on identity—pouring out my heart for all to read who I was and who I’m becoming. And in the end, that writing process was therapy for me. Leap! was a tool I could use to reach out to other people who were hurting, who had fallen prey, and not gotten a third chance at what gift to ask for from you. Because of you, I am who I am today. I am where I am at because of you. And for that I am forever grateful God decided to use the avenue of a locker room, of a game, of an experience like you for the past decade to create a launching pad for the next chapter of my life.
Football, as I take off my cloak—of pads, helmet, and cleats— for the last time, revealing myself vulnerable to the next phase, I want to thank you for everything. The good, the bad, the tough, and the uncomfortable. To look you in the eyes and thank you for the opportunity to pay for school, to meet my wife, and to make new friendships. To travel the country and have free time to spend with my son. To pour into high schoolers and teach them your methods. To give me enough to talk about to write a book. To take me on trips that were once in a lifetime. The ability to play in big games on big stages. To suffer loss and defeat. To suffer anxiety and depression.
You were the raw unpaved road that brought experiences of freedom that only the open road can. But you were also the raw and unpaved road that humbled and humiliated me the only way you can. For that, I thank you. Through the correct lens, you can be seen for who you truly are: an open door from God. Not just in the three brothers does death meet you at the end, but so does real life. You showed me how I wanted to live my life, revealing what I wanted my true identity to be. How to truly aim my passions directed at my true purpose, where my true sense of confidence and hope lies, in God…
So as I pass off my helmet to the next journeyman, I smile softly, knowing that this is just the turn of a page. That it is a collection of memories I look fond upon, and tools for the next chapter in life. Thank you for being the platform I could stand on, stumble on, and find myself on. I only wish everyone could view you the way I do, and enjoy you for everything that you are.
