I’m not particularly athletic.  Ok, that’s an understatement.  I’m not even remotely athletic.  I’m the least athletic person I know.  I joke that if you ever see me running, you’d better start running too because something is after me.

As a kid, I played baseball.  And hated every minute of it.  We were league champions, no thanks to me.  The season couldn’t end soon enough.  It’s just not in my genes.  As my mother would say, “He’s just not built for sports.”  LOL!

Fast forward a few years and the man upstairs thought it’d be funny to gift me with an athletically-inclined kid.  And when I say athletically-inclined, I mean he’s actually pretty dang good.  I mean, his first word was “ball.”  Baseball, basketball, football, the kid just loves sports.  But soccer is his passion.

And with practice several times a week with a smattering of games in between, we’re on the run a lot.  He plays fall and spring league and there have been mentions of playing all-stars this year too.  It keeps us very busy.  But we love that he loves it.  And that he does.


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