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Saturday, April 7, 2012

how it all began

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How It All Began


I was born in the small town of Aliquippa, Pa on September 7, 184. My father had a serious anger problem that seemed to be constant on his side of the family and genetic I guess, because my family says I’m ten times worse when I’m angry. My supposed “anger problem” was never really apparent to me though. After my fourth birthday, my father and I began taking anger management classes. I don’t really recall going, but apparently we both needed a lot of help. We attended classes constantly, twice a week for the next two years. The psychologist recommended that my parents find me some extra curricular activities to get into. They wanted me to long to get along with others, in a sense, become more sociable. That did not sit well with me at all, I was the only child and I learned to get along by myself so I was comfortable only when I was by myself. In the fall of 11, I was at the impressionable age of six, I found myself sitting in front of a television screen every Sunday after church, mesmerized. I loved the way the players moved with such gracefulness and ran around hitting each other with reckless abandonment. Finally, I had found the one activity that would suppress my need for a constant positive activity Football. I began to play pick-up football with the other kids around my neighborhood. At the beginning I was always the last person picked, I guess because of my size (4’5 86 lbs). It was as if they took me for a joke, but deep inside I knew something they didn’t, I had heart. I was brought up with the mindset that if you didn’t have heart, you have nothing. Before long I was hitting people twice my size and my confidence level went sky high. It didn’t take long before I began to be one of the first picked for teams. This was destiny, and I knew it.


I could not wait for the day the local recreation would start posting flyers about the up coming football season tryouts. Finally, on the second day of September, the flyers began to appear everywhere over the town. I grabbed the first one I seen and I sprinted home. When I arrived, my mother was outside watering her flowers. Tired and gasping for air, I tried to get a sentence out but all that came out was fragments of words. Desperate to get my message across, I just gave her the flyer. Overjoyed, I grabbed the flyer back and ran into the house to call the number. I called the number for my weight class and spoke with the coach. He gave me the tryout information along with the status of the team. I was extremely excited about starting. I did everything to prepare for the league. I got a physical, filled out medical forms, and even attended the parents meetings. I was willing to do anything.


Before I knew it the day of tryouts arrived. My mother and father took me to the park to meet my coach for the first time face to face. His name was Coach Hill. He took me and introduced me to the rest of the team and got me fitted for my equipment. A little later, he gathered the parents and the players to give us an overview of the tryouts. For some reason I couldn’t really concentrate on what he was saying with the smell of football in the air. All of what he was saying was minute in comparison to what I wanted to do at that time. Who cared about snacks after a game?


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Tryouts finally began. Tryouts couldn’t have gone any better. I hit, I avoided, and eluded others. I felt really confident when the coach sounded the final whistle, but it wasn’t what I felt that counted. He told us that the results would be posted in the main entrance the next day.


I went home that day and kept to myself the whole day. Thoughts of doubt kept going through my head, but deep inside I knew that win or lose, I put forth my best effort. It took me awhile before I reminded my parents of the postings at the park. It took me even longer to get up the courage to even go to the board to view the posted results. It was as if I was taking my last walk, only thing that was missing was a minister and an executioner. The hallway seems twice as long, the doors seemed heavier to open, and my heart raced at unbelievable speeds. I thought back to the day before when I received numerous compliments from the coaching staff and figured that I had nothing to worry about. Finally, I arrived at the board, the list was red which meant whatever was on it was important. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and looked up at the list. My eyes scanned the list for something that resembled the name “mica daniels”. There it was, in bold black ink on this red piece of paper, my name, “David Fisher” with the words linebacker next to it. I was overcome with joy because of my accomplishments, for I knew that this was the beginning to something way bigger than what I could ever imagined.








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