I had the 11th pick in a 12 team draft. I normally don’t like this position because it means you either have to take a player that fell that you don’t necessarily need/want OR you pick a player you need a bit too early. My game plan going in was – take a QB and WR early because I figured the great RBs would be gone by the time 11 came around. Pick up RBs in round 3 and 4. That was the plan anyway.

Reality always is so much different, isn’t it? Here were the first 10 picks in front of me…

Adrian Peterson
Michael Turner
Maurice Jones-Drew
Matt Forte
Drew Brees
Tom Brady
Calvin Johnson
Chris Johnson
DeAngelo Williams
Randy Moss

Not what I expected and both QBs that I was hoping to draft a bit early ahead of everyone else were now gone. But the flip side was it left some great options for me at 11. 3 of my top 10 players that I thought I had no chance at were still on the board. Cooper had the 12 and 13 pick. Knowing Coop’s favorite player, I did what any loving dad would do in my position….I drafted him.

Larry Fitzgerald, WR – my first pick. In a league that gives a point per reception…pretty good pickup. Coop had the next two picks and when he saw Fitz come off the board…let’s just say I won’t be nominated for any Dad of the Year awards by him. I felt bad for putting Coop in the position of being so close to getting the player he wanted only to have it ripped from his heart at the last possible second. But this is fantasy football and the sooner he learns that happens all the time, the better. I consider it my job to prepare him. Prepare him I did. I got over it by pick 14.

Cooper – with no help from me – realizes that WRs are about to go like crazy and probably RBs and after these two picks, he doesn’t have one for another 24 picks. So he drafts Frank Gore, RB and Andre Johnson, WR. Not bad picks, really. Pretty solid and safe.

That left me with one of those “You have to draft him because no one is going to believe he is sitting there” picks but you’re not sure how much mileage you’re really going to get – LaDainian Tomlinson. I’d have a couple more of those picks in front of me. Here’s the team in order of where they were drafted:

11 Larry Fitzgerald, Ari
14 LaDainian Tomlinson, SD
35 Thomas Jones, NYJ
38 Brandon Marshall, Den – one of those “I don’t really want him, but I’ll drink the poison anyway” picks.
59 Knowshon Moreno, Den
62 Jay Cutler, Chi – see above.
83 Steelers D/ST, Pit
86 Carson Palmer, Cin
107 Patrick Willis, SF
110 Tim Hightower, Ari
131 Patrick Crayton, Dal
134 Kevin Boss, NYG
155 David Akers, Phi
158 Willis McGahee, Bal
179 Shawne Merriman, SD
182 Laurence Maroney, NE
203 Limas Sweed, Pit

Games start tonight…let the waiver wire fun begin!!!

“I have HOMEWORK!!” one kid cried through her tears.

“Our bus driver wouldn’t listen to what we were telling her what to do!”

And the third just kept talking so fast, I couldn’t really make anything distinct out. Amy and I looked at each other. Summer officially ended at 4.07 pm, Monday, August 17th.

The kids started in a brand new school today – brand new to them, brand new to the city, brand new staff. I walked up there today. It’s pretty awesome. High ceilings, bright colors, lots of windows, very modern feel, big hallways. It will be a great place for the kids to go to school but at the moment, we had 3 very tired kids, 2 of which were having a hard time with reality. The third one was just creating her own to anyone who would listen to her.

“Welcome to school, honey. That’s what they do to help you get smart – give homework.”

“So explain to me why a grown woman should listen to a busload of kids under the age of 11 on the first day of school?”

“And you — I want you to breath. Stop talking for 30 seconds, and breath.”

Logic was not going to fix this. Qdoba might. So off we ran to Qdoba where one of the most hilarious exchanges in Camber history happened. To really get the feel of this, you need to imagine her talking as fast as she can with the most extreme level of confidence.

Cam: “My favorite football player of all time is Michael Jordan.”

Amy: “Wait…what sport does Michael Jordan play?”

Cam, without hesitating: “Hockey.”

Cooper about spits his coke, chicken burrito and lunch out at the window he is laughing so hard. Camber looks at us like – “What? Didn’t you know that?” And continues talking about butterflies or her new teacher or the smell of the color purple.

I had a long day as well. 7 am meeting, had a list of things to get done that didn’t but what I did get done was good. It was my good friend Stephen’s birthday. I was going to take him to lunch, I asked him what he wanted.

“A burger….or Indian food.”

Wow…that’s quite a pair. It was his birthday so there was no way I was going to make the decision. Besides that – choosing where to eat with the friends is more difficult than choosing a college.

Stephen picked the Indian place.

“I guess we’re not eating cow today.” He laughed hard.

We showed up and guess what was on the buffet? Beef. Obviously they weren’t orthodox Indians.

All of that to say that today was good in spite of what I didn’t get done.

God reminded me of this as we sat upstairs playing Skip-bo with the fam. I was tired, about fell asleep when Cayden came out with lime green wristbands on, her gold high heel shoes, one white baseball glove one, ear muffs, and sunglasses and started singing the “I’m going to Barf” song.

The hip action and jazz hands and facial expressions were too much. I wish we’d filmed it. One night, we’ll have to ambush video her as she gives us one of her concerts.

So the day of reality is over. Kids are in bed. I know this scene was played out all over our city, this country this week. Families getting into the groove again, early bedtimes, and afternoons filled with tears, homework, and laughter. And you know what? I wouldn’t trade it. I wouldn’t trade a thing of it.

Then again at dinner.

But let me back up and tell you why first. I get a phone call today, 3pm.

“This is Grant.”

“Hi. My name is Sue (not real name), I’m with 501 USD (school district that kids are in) and are the father of a 5th grade boy at McCarter?”

“Yes.”
My heart gets very heavy, very quick.

“And you’re the new preacher in town, right?”

“Yes.”

I can’t count the number of parents I’ve talked to, listened to, cried with, sat with when they get news that their kid has done something utterly, profanely stupid. I’ve seen the hurt, frustration, anger, confusion. I’ve comforted as best as I can but right now in this instant all I can think of is — I’m about to be one of those parents.

“Well, Mr. English….I don’t know how to say this. I really don’t. I’ve seen a lot of Christian families, dealt with a lot of Christian parents. Almost all of them have been very combative, very judgmental and their kids hellions.”

“But I’ve never seen anything like your son. He’s respectable, honorable, likeable, and honest. He’s smart as a whip and he’s not one of them sissy boys either. Do you know that I overheard some boys talking with him and they asked him about why he didn’t do something and he told them – “Because I love Jesus.” And since he’s a good athlete, they left him alone and respected him.”

“So…Cooper isn’t in trouble?”

“In trouble? No! Well he did get in a little trouble for playing in the water fountain after gym. But when we confronted those boys about it – he was the only one that said he’d been throwing water and he’d clean it up. He was just being a boy, no big deal…but I also heard about what you and your church did for McCarter at the school fair.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now, I’m a pagan. Never saw much use for God but after seeing your son and actually your girls as well plus what you guys are doing at McCarter…I may have to rethink this Jesus guy. You wouldn’t mind if I showed up at your church one Sunday, would you?”

I can’t really answer her because I’m crying. I’m humbled beyond measure. I stumble out yes, love to talk with you, answer any questions. We just wanted to help McCarter out. That’s it. No big deal.

We talk for a few minutes more, hang up.

At dinner tonight, I replay the whole conversation for the family. Amy tears up. I tear up. The whole family tears up. So I’m becoming a cry baby as I get older but I’m also astonished at how God moves. I shouldn’t be…but I am.

We’re not great parents. We’re parents who love Jesus and love our kids and are trying to figure out how not to ruin the gifts God gave us. I take shortcuts at times…get lazy…get frustrated. I’ve spanked the wrong kid, yelled when I’ve should have listened, and pushed when I should have hugged.

But tonight…I’ve never been prouder of my kids.

Shine…Let them wonder what you’ve got.

Here we are at lunch. Late start, late lunch, everyone is great and happy. No lines, no crowds…

Then it happened. I had just skied off to chase Cayden, saw that Amy, Coop, and Camber were good. We get over the hump and wait for the rest of the crew. And we wait…and wait…and wait. I call. Not good. Cooper got blasted by a snowboarder. I mean…blasted.

Amy saw the guy and starts hollering at him. Threatens to beat him with her poles. Of course, I’m not there, just over the hill. Not knowing what is going him. I’m sure the guy passed me. He’s lucky. Amy decides (wisely, I might add) to stay with Cooper. As God would have it, there were two ski patrol guys on vacation from Philadelphia. They stop and help Coop get sitting up, put some ice on his wrist. They call the Keystone Ski Patrol.

Sol (pronounced Saul) was the ski patrol guy. He was awesome.

In fact, he was so awesome, Amy felt comfortable enough to take pictures. I’m glad she did. Coop got a ride in the yellow sled. It wasn’t as fun as he thought it would be. And the guys FLYYYY down the mountain.

It’s hard to explain to your girls that their brother is okay, he’s not going to die when he’s wrapped up in the yellow sled and their zooming down the mountain. I took the girls, got the car, skis and gear to meet up with Aim at the Medical Center. Cooper got to pick the color of his cast – orange. And within a couple of hours, the adventure was done.

We bagged him up so he could sit in the hot tub. Keepin’ it elevated and the good news? He can hit the slopes on Wednesday. And we will…

Pray that I don’t run into that snowboarder…

I’ve been to 3 games at the Fieldhouse. My first game was a Texas game, back in ’97. Amy and I went. Cooper was there too, inside Amy. My second game was last Sunday. This was my third. I think I can honestly say that Allen Fieldhouse has to be one of the best atmospheres in all of college sports. Maybe in all sports.

It’s like going to church for the first time after not going in a while. They have their own songs they sing, when they sing it, and how they sing it. They have their own ‘order’ of worship, their liturgy if you will. And the benediction…

Rock Chalk, Jayhawk KU.

At any rate, going there with Cooper today was incredible…to see it through his eyes. The intro video, the cheers, the student section, the noise, the intimacy of the Phog. After the game was over and the fans were leaving he looked at me and said – “I don’t want to leave. Do we have to?”

What makes a sports place sacred? Stories like today when a dad gets to take his son or daughter and share a memory that is larger than them both. When they can yell and scream, wave the wheat, boo the refs, and laugh together – that makes a place sacred.

And I’m thankful for these times.