The luckiest man alive?
Ending the pursuit of a dream may be just the beginning
About a year ago, I decided to step away from the sport I dedicated most of my time to between the ages of 15 and 20.
When I went off to college, I had enormous goals—becoming an All-American, winning a bunch of games, and maybe even earning a couple of rings along the way. It didn’t exactly work out that way.
If you had told 18-year-old me—the kid who signed his letter of intent to Bethel College—that things wouldn’t go as planned, he probably would have freaked out.
“But I work so hard, and I go about things the right way. How come things don’t work out for me?” he might have asked.
I’d respond with a Mike Leach quote from the show Friday Night Lights: “A lot of times, things happen for a reason. We don’t know why God wants it that way… You might be the luckiest man alive and not even know it.”
The last part of that quote shifted my perspective the first time I heard it: “You might be the luckiest man alive and not even know it.”
No, I didn’t become an All-American. No, I didn’t win a bunch of rings.
Eighteen-year-old me wouldn’t have been okay with that, but 21-year-old me is perfectly fine. Maybe I am the luckiest man alive after all.
I was lucky enough to live my dream for two years and make some great friends along the way. I was lucky enough to get a job at Larned State Hospital for seven months, where I learned even more life lessons. Most of all, I was lucky enough that Madison High School happened to need one more assistant coach last spring.
Now, I’m doing exactly what I know I’m supposed to be doing; coaching football while going to college. Even when I thought times were tough—living at home and working instead of going to school—things worked out exactly as they were supposed to.
After Madison’s playoff win over Ell-Saline last fall, standing on the field and taking pictures with the plaque, it all hit me: “I finally feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be,” I thought.
To any other college athletes out there “hanging it up,” it’s going to be okay. Life goes on. You did more than some people ever imagined you would do, maybe even more than you imagined yourself. Don’t forget to hold onto the memories and the lessons learned. That’s what the journey is really about.
I’m beyond thankful for everything this sport taught me about myself and about life, and I’ll forever be grateful for the journey it put me on.