Bad Day

I coach 7th grade football. We've not lost a game in three years, but that's not my point (the point of that was to brag).

Today, as my team suited up, the assistant principal of the school at which I coach came into the locker room and asked for a particular boy. He--the assistant principal--was there because this boy's mother and uncle were waiting in the office to tell the boy that his dad had just died.

I asked what happened, but the AP didn't know. All he knew was that the kid's dad was dead.

On more than one occasion, I recall uttering "Jesus," to myself.

We located the boy, and he was just about finished donning his equipment. I saw that he was happy. The only care that he had in the world was whether or not he would play second or third string in tomorrow's game.

I pointed him out, and the AP asked him to come with him to the office. The boy said, "OK," and waited to go. The AP asked him to change back into his clothes, and the boy complied. However, I noted a distinct confusion in his face, as if he was thinking, why am I going to the office? After changing into his regular clothes, he said, "OK," and the AP told him to grab all of his stuff (e.g. his backpack). "OK," the kid said, and I could see that he was baffled.

I wanted to reach out to him and give him a hug, but I knew that I would only add to his confusion. Instead, I watched him leave: confused but still happy. He had no idea that he was living the final moments of his life in which he thought that he still had a dad.

I was, by this time, somewhat nauseous. I was five years old when my own father passed away, but my father died of cancer, and it was not a surprise even for a five year old. This kid, however, had no idea that his dad had just hours earlier keeled over with an apparent heart attack.

The next time that you think you're having a bad day, try to think of this kid who was getting ready for football practice, smiling and talking to his buddies, and then led away to be told that his father was a corpse.