Did I tell you? My sister’s fiance’s dermatologist’s son just got a full ride to Villanova for rowing! He’s five-foot-nothing, but it doesn’t matter because he’s the coxswain and all he has to do is bark out orders. Can you imagine how proud his father is? His boy is going to Villanova on a full ride for sports!

The goalie on my neighbors’ co-worker’s daughter’s field hockey team has offers from three D1 schools—three! She spent the whole winter break going on official visits. Talk about a Merry Christmas! I’d trade every Christmas vacation I ever got to take my kid on one recruitment visit—meeting the coaches and the trainers, eating free food. Man, that must be awesome.

My kids? My daughter played kid soccer for a year and then quit. Her mother said she was only doing it for me. That was right before our divorce. My son got his shorts pulled down on the first day of flag football and never played sports again. I was really looking forward to helping him develop as a quarterback—or safety, or linebacker. Heck, I would have settled for first string water boy!

Speaking of football, this other guy I know? His daughter’s best friend’s cousin’s dentist’s kid has offers from seven SEC schools. The whole SEC is after this kid! His phone is ringing off the hook, they’re flying him and his dad everywhere, all expenses paid. The crazy thing is, this kid didn’t even start freshman year of high school. Then—boom! He suddenly grows four inches, adds thirty pounds of muscle. Frickin’ late bloomer, right?

I actually thought my kids might be late bloomers—you know, suddenly realize they wanted to get outdoors and have their dad coach them? I was ready to coach any sport they wanted to play. Croquet, curling, anything. I even offered to coach their friends’ teams, but their parents thought that was weird.

When my boy was a senior, I tried to get him into pickleball. It’s a brand new high school sport and super under-impacted. If the NCAA ever authorizes it, there’s gonna be scholarships galore. I told him, you don’t even have to run! You just stand in one spot and hit the ball.

That was kinda the moment when I really gave up. It was hard. Really hard. Something broke inside me.

Nah, I’m good, I don’t need a tissue.

Check this story out, though: my brother’s mechanic’s ex-wife’s niece’s boyfriend rides the bench on the baseball team for years, right? One day the golf coach—the golf coach—sees his swing and recruits him to the golf team. Kid has never swung a golf club in his life, but the coach can see it, you know, that’s how coaches are! The kid goes on to win sectionals and states. Three D1 offers, recruitment visits. Boom! Full scholarship to Purdue!

I can’t imagine how it feels to watch your kid put on that college jersey on National Signing Day. All these parents you’ve known for years coming up to you and saying, “Great work, Dad” and you’re like, “Hey, I just drove him to practice!” But inside, you know that you didn’t just drive him to practice. You made him what he is today.

My kids, now? They’re doing fine. My boy’s a pediatric surgeon. My daughter does something with Alzheimer’s, I’m not sure.

Wait, did I tell you? My brother-in-law’s proctologist’s sister’s second husband’s stepdaughter’s cousin has five D1 offers for volleyball. Girl is six-two, thirty-two inch vertical, frickin’ spike machine!

Her father must be so proud.