Younger brother

 I recently turned sixteen, this may seem like a small deal but to me it was huge. Behind our house is a huge field where my sisters and I practice driving, well are supposed to practice.

   While back there one day I decided to drive my eight year old brother around. I’d hit the gas and we’d swerve around the corner of the field riding back and forth. The old truck took every bump and corner with ease. I thought I was the coolest brother in the history of big-brotherdom.

   I pulled up to the back of the house and parked the truck with my little brother in the passenger seat. I hopped out and asked him to sit still while I went and grabbed the garage door opener from inside. When inside I poured a drink, forgetting about the truck for a second. When I realized I ran outside and checked to make sure everything was okay. Panic set in when I realized the truck and my brother were nowhere in sight. I didn’t worry too much because I knew there wasn’t far to go and hopefully I hadn’t shown him too much. I ran out in the field and saw the old truck rumpling down the track at a steady three miles an hour. I smiled and quickly caught up to it and opened the passenger door. Hopping in I expected my brother to smirk and keep on going, but instead he floored it and we took off. I franticly reached for the emergency brake and snatched it up as fast as my arm would let me. We screeched to a halt and my brother cried uncontrollably. I sat back for just a second and let the adrenaline pumping through my veins settle down.

 

   My brother taught me one the most important things that I think could be handed over. Never underestimate anyone, regardless of age. I simply assumed that because he was younger than me nothing bad would come of it. I was wrong and will never let a small face be my demise, or his.

Not a coach, a Dad

No one will ever push you as hard as a coach. Football, basketball, soccer, baseball, their all the same. As soon as you start to falter or fall their right there to push you back in the right direction.

   When I was nine years old I wanted to play football. Not only play football, but be good at it. In my neighborhood there were plenty of kids that played, but none my age, so I never got involved. Then one day my dad decided to coach little league. I saw the perfect opportunity to play.

  One warm summer day I stepped out on the field in pads and uniform, feeling so out of place. I looked around and saw no one I knew and on top of that I was by far the smallest. Intimidated was not even close to how I felt. Workouts began and I started to get the hang of things, I ran, hit, and threw just as well as everyone else. I was just a bit smaller.

   I saw this as a challenge, show everyone that size isn’t everything and throughout that summer it was just what I did.

  I cannot say I was the best but I had made much progress, none of which I could have done without a good coach. My dad was not only my coach, but my teacher, mentor, instructor, leader, but my friend. I was allowed to fall knowing that on my way back up he’d be there to help. He pushed me harder and farther than anyone to this day. I always looked to my dad as a teacher but after that summer he took on the role as a coach, which was an entire new perspective.  

Life's lessons

      Hey, my name is T.J. and I am a sophomore in high school. During my English II class we read the book The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch. In his story Randy is diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and is told he will only have a few months to live with only a small percentage of survival. This inspired him to teach his children one last time, his final “head fake.”