As time has gone on, it appears this is a true calling. He loves the foosballs. Loves it. Can't get enough. The boy asked Santa for a tackle dummy. Santa brought him a blocking pad too. If this is his dream, well, I guess my face will have some cleat marks as I work to lift him to it.
Fortunately for him, the kid has talent. This is year 2 of playing wee football, and he is tearing it up. This post, in case you need a warning label, is not just humor but bragging. I am about to engage in that most parental of things, bragging on the kid.
I am in love with how much Little Danger cares. I've been watching him at practice, helping the other kids who don't get it yet (they are combined 1st and 2nd graders, and he helps the younger ones.) I've watched when a teammate falls down, or feels like they can't make the long run to the tree across the field and back. He is right there, helping them up, running with one arm on a teammate's back, pushing them without giving them shit. Convincing a kid that just doesn't want to run to go ahead and sprint the last 20 yards. He may be future team captain material, and I didn't teach him how to do that, at least not directly.
The summer saw him at multiple football camps, because Wifefish believes as I do that we CAN spoil a kid, but not with stuff. We are spoiling him with experiences and love, and that's just the way it's going to be. He worked skill drills with NFL players, Buckeye players, and UD players before he showed up to his first practice.
The boys put down a good, solid game 1 last week. The O-line, on which Little Danger features as tight end, allowed zero sacks. At the bantam level, that's pretty impressive. Watching 1st and 2nd graders play football should often be set to Yakity Sax, and yet they managed a solid game. The boys served up pancakes like they were the griddle chefs at IHOP, and treated the opposing defense like Gandalf treated the Balrog on the bridge.
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It was exciting, to say the least.
Saturday, we attended game 2 of the season. This was an away game against a historically tough opponent. This opponent's system has produced more than one NFL player. Little Danger was, of course, psyched and ready to rock.
I have to admit, his first half was not his best play. He missed three blocks that he should have made, for losses on each. Maybe he wasn't awake, maybe he wasn't focused, but where he had been a goddamn human wall the previous week, tying up two players at a time, he had become a turnstile. And I don't mean he got beat by the opposing DE, I mean he just one handed it and turned his body the wrong way and watched the guy go by, like he was bullfighting instead of blocking. Wifefish and I both commented that he needed to wake up.
I don't know what the coaches said to him at halftime. Little Danger tells me he decided to show them what they wanted. His second half, he lit up like a radioactive Christmas tree. He started serving up the pancakes and holding the line. No one would go past him for the rest of the game. He fired off a key lead block for a massive gain up the left side.
Where he really lit it off, though, was at defensive tackle. Suddenly, his beast was out of the cage. It was time for Little Danger to give out some free hugs.
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He blasted through the line, and I remember saying "Oh my dear word." Which might strike many of you as odd, but you must recall that parents are not allowed our full range of expression at kid's games, so I couldn't scream out "FUCK YEAH!!!!" as I might ordinarily do. Hot on the QB's heels, he was there for the hand off to the running back and, well, let's just say he escorted that young man to the ground for his appointment with the turf.
Thus began a spree of tackles for loss. Three sacks joined his 4 pancakes, and a couple more tackles for loss sprinkled on top. Coaches were high fiving him. Hell, one coach ran over and high fived ME, and parents around us started sharing in the frivolity.
"Watch number 5!" the opposing coaches yelled. I said "Now here's where they start double teaming him." Indeed, that's exactly what they did. One of the parents mentioned that I must be disappointed by this, as LD wouldn't be scoring any more sacks.
"Nope," I said, "This means somebody else gets to make a play." Evidently I was waxing prophetic, as the two kids driving my boy backwards left a hole for one of his teammates to go render their QB horizontal. "They can double team him all day," I continued, "That just makes him happy."
So, a hard fought defensive battle came to a close, and the boys scored their second win, just 6-0.
"What did you feed him today?" The coach asked. A banana and a granola bar.
He feeds himself on his dreams, though. I am proud of him. Not just because he has talent, and not in any way for me, excepting perhaps the elation of that pride. I am proud that he overcame a rough start and found his motivation. I am proud that he still gets team play, and is perfectly happy to make a hole for someone else to make a play...he beams when he high fives you for doing something good.
This of course, makes me beam the light of the Proud Pappa forth unto the world as well. So, forgive me if I just can't shut up about him. It's just the nature of pride.
