Caleb discovered football when he was six.
He found an old, slightly deflated football at a garage sale for three dollars and brought it home like he had discovered treasure.
“Mom, can I keep it?”
“Of course.”
Then he asked,
“Do you know how to throw?”
“A little.”
“Can you teach me?”
I taught him what I knew.
It wasn’t much.
Everything else he learned from videos, coaches, and thousands of hours spent practicing.
He threw passes in our backyard.
Ran routes around trees.
Practiced footwork until the grass was worn thin.
By eight, he was playing on a youth team.
By ten, his coaches were beginning to talk about him differently.
They saw potential.
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Caleb noticed it too, even though he pretended not to.
Football became his thing.
His favorite professional team played in a stadium about forty minutes from our house.
His favorite player was a wide receiver who had grown up in a small Alabama town and worked his way into the league.
