O Line

Travis Myers.

I don’t know if he reads this (I seriously doubt it). But he was the meanest, toughest, strongest, and biggest football player on our team.

I played offensive tackle, and he lined up beside me at guard.

Nothing got past Travis. Pass blocking, run blocking, helping me with slanting defensive ends. He could do it all . . . except take his laundry home.

Once before practice, I saw him grab a shirt from his locker—still soaked with sweat—and slide it down his freckly body.

I’m pretty sure I gagged. I wonder how many days in a row he wore the same practice shirt. Maybe that was part of his success. Nobody wanted to face off against him because of the rancid odor.

But whether they smell like Travis or like those who wear cologne before a game (looking at you, Joe Riffee), offensive linemen are like special needs dads.

First, their primary job is to provide protection. The best plays for an offensive lineman are when the “skill” players remain clean and untouched. It’s the same with a special needs dad. We’re wildly protective, advocating and assisting on the regular. Paving a way for our children to remain clean and untouched, giving them the best chance at success. We’re literally removing obstacles and creating a path through the chaos.

Offensive linemen are used to slow progress. While a wide receiver or running back may run 10, 15, 20, or even 30 yards in a play, the offensive line is moving one or two steps. If they make it 5 yards, they’ve really made some progress. Special needs dads are similar, trudging slowly toward micro-milestones and small wins, celebrating even the slightest bit of progress.

Offensive linemen, when they’re doing their job correctly, are unseen. There’s no glory. No fanfare. They show up, do their job, pave the way for others, and call it good. That’s all they need. They know team success couldn’t happen without their contribution. It’s the same with special needs dads. It can be thankless, isolating, ignored. But they do it anyway because that’s their role. That’s how they contribute to the success of their family.

Lastly, the O-Line takes hit after hit. Some players experience little to no contact on a play. Not the hogs. Offensive linemen are colliding with defenders on every down. Every second of the game. The winning team has a line that won’t quit. They’re bigger, stronger, faster, and in the last minutes of the game, they’re still grinding the opposition with every hit. Special needs dads are the same. We’re taking hit after hit. Setback after setback. And we keep showing up. We keep grinding. We do the right things when we’re tired. When our strength is gone. When we don’t feel like it. Because it’s our job to keep going. To survive the blows and show our kids the way.

I’m thankful that football season is here. I’m thankful for the lessons I’ve learned. I’m thankful for the friends I made as a player and a fan . . .

Even you, Travis!