Remembering Being a Kid: Playing Football

Growing up, there was nothing but football surrounding me. I can remember when I was as little as six years old and asking my dad during a Bear's game if he would go out in the front yard and throw me passes. The response was always, "At halftime, JJ." I would be sitting on the floor waiting for what seemed like hours as the time wound down to the end of the first half. My dad couldn't get out the door quickly enough, and it always ended up being after the halftime break that we would be back inside, late to watch the start of the second half.

As my dad would throw passes, he would tell me stories about when he was playing, and I would ask him endless questions about what it was like, and some of the other experiences that he went through when he was playing in college, and then into the NFL. After doing nothing but playing "backyard" football with kids around the neighborhood for years on end, I couldn't wait to try and play organized football.

When I was 10 years old, my mom finally decided that I could play organized football if I really wanted. So after all the signups and everything, there was a training camp type of thing, where every single player in Chicago who wanted to play in the Chicago Youth Football League would have to practice and condition. It turns out that the Traveling CYFL Hawks coaches were scouting throughout the conditioning, and honestly when I was 10 years old I didn't realize what the whole difference of in house or traveling ball was besides the simple fact that a traveling team would play in different areas. As the conditioning went out, coaches would consistently ask me about my 40 yard dash time, my height, weight, how old I was, and I would report this to my dad. I'd ask why these people are so interested in finding out all this information about me, and he would inquire that it wasn't a bad thing, but actually an extreme compliment because they thought I possessed the skill that was needed in order to play at a competitive level. My dad would ask me consistently if I really wanted to play traveling and that I could if I wanted. I decided that I wanted to, and ended up being the starting Center for the Junior Pee Wee Hawks of Chicago. After having four practices a week and games every Sunday for what seemed like ever, we ended up going to Florida to play in a national tournament. After losing to Hawaii in the first game, we won the consolation game and finished third in the nation in our weight class. I was impressed and excited about it, but all competitors feel that it's really hard to settle for less than first place, and there will always be a hunger for first place.

Anybody who was on the team previously has an open invite to return to the team the following year depending on the weight class that you would be in. Personally I moved up in weight class, but my position was open so I was in the clear. However, the first practice with full pads, (full hitting drills) I ended up getting my left index finger caught in the helmet of a defender on a hitting drill. To make a long story short, it was broken, and I would need reconstructive surgery on my finger with a pin in the bone for stabilization. That means that I ended up missing the first eight games of the season, (half of the regular season) and couldn't wait to be back in the action. As soon as I was available to return, I was back on the field and playing with my finger wrapped up as it was still tender. Like the year previously, we ended up winning each of the playoff games necessary to make it to the national tournament. In fact, the regional championship game was here! In the national tournament we ended up losing the first game again, but won the consolation bracket and finished third in the nation for the second straight year. Similar to everybody else on the team, and the coaching staff, I was not impressed with our finish. For the second straight year my team finished third. Now I guess somebody who isn't extremely competitive wouldn't mind a third place finish, but I figured that third is definitely less than satisfactory. As an athlete and a competitor I strive for nothing but first place. Achieving anything less than first place is the same as failing in my opinion.

After two years of Hawks football, my past injury, plus the reason that I wouldn't be able to play Hawks anymore, I decided that I was done with football, at least for awhile. Adding in the fact that everybody was getting bigger than I was then, and I felt that I really didn't have a chance at playing with people twice my size, I lost interest in organized football and decided to play with people in the neighborhood in a more casual manner. Hawk's football was an extreme amount of work and very stressful on my parents as I found out talking to them recently. The extremely high costs of playing, and the amount of time that was put towards a football season for 11 year old children was insane. It was nice to be away from that and have more time to hang out with my friends.

Looking back on the big picture, I really enjoyed the whole experience, even taking in the fact the amount of work that was needed to provide the fluency of our team, and the lack of time that I had for other activities. I guess the sport of football has made a positive influence on my life, and I think that my extreme competitiveness now is due at least in some part to the results of what happened on the football field when I was younger. Growing up and playing sports my whole life, I also have respect for those people who are actually playing a sport because they love the game, instead of some outside influence such as money or popularity. I really enjoyed the whole experience, and enjoy playing an assortment of sports now as well. However, regardless of how laid back the atmosphere, I still crave first place and do my best to try to win. Also dealing with the intensity of Hawks, I respect those people that strive not only for personal victory, but for the well being of the team as well.