Here’s the thing: I lost something (ugh, that word again. Didn’t we break up?)
I lost a great deal of the passion I had for the written word. I buried beneath cleats and turf and jerseys for various sports. I spent a chain of three uninterrupted years living atop a pile of sports. We played so many sports in succession that I defined the season by what sport I happen to be coaching. Then I decided to stop. In the clarity of a series of solitary moments strung together I recognized that the passion is still down there.
This moment of clarity was aided by Gregg Hurwitz, a NYT best-selling author who is most recently known for the Evan Smoak/Nowhere Man novels. Hurwitz was born in 73, not long before me and since the 2000’s he’s been a top-notch writer publishing comics, screenplays, and 15 novels. Did I mention he was a student-athlete and a top scholar? He’s basically a better version of my own story. He managed all of the things I intended for my career. Instead of thinking about how to be ‘that guy’ he went out and did it. I went out and learned the inner workings of youth soccer and a dozen other games, sports, etc.
I do not regret my decision to be a father or to entrench myself in the life the way I did these past years. They remain a beautiful moment in time. However, I can’t be that guy 24/7 anymore. I’ll coach on occasion–I enjoy the connection and time it affords me with my kids. I won’t let it be the driving influence in my life any longer. November-March sans rec sports is just the beginning. There is a time to play and a time to be a writer.
Guess what time it is?