At 7:05 p.m. today my son — known as “Colt the Bolt” to many — will officially be 1-year-old, so happy birthday buddy!
Yes, I’m wondering where the time has gone as well. It seems like only yesterday my wife and I learned we were expecting. No, scratch that — that seems more like 30 minutes ago. It seems like yesterday I left a tiny Western North Carolina town called Lincolnton and moved to a tiny Eastern North Carolina called Kinston.
This column is more about life than sports, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned since March 27, 2012, it’s this: That life is always bigger than the sports we play.
For every one of you who is reading this column, you’ve witnessed my transformation from a shy, single young fellow to an outspoken family man. I came to Kinston with a suitcase full of overpriced clothes and new furniture my grandmother bought me, and now my closet is full of sale and thrift store items and shared by the love of my life, who falls asleep at night with Colton on that very same worn-out couch.
At the risk of jumping right onto the Religion page, when Managing Editor Bryan C. Hanks offered me the sports editor job in late September, 2008, I felt a nudge at my heart to come. It was the Lord.
Other than the job, I wondered why I was being sent here. I found a great church home at New Testament Baptist Church on U.S. 70, and it was through that that I met my wife, Jaclyn.
I’m still here, raising a family and doing my best, in a tough situation (as we all are at The Free Press), to bring you local sports coverage.
In a year’s time I’ve gone from staying up late and sleeping past brunch, to staying up late and getting up early. I have somehow managed to function on five hours of sleep a night instead of the eight-plus I had grown accustomed to.
I’ve learned to be patient — in more ways than one. I’ve learned that sometimes the smallest things in life are the ones that require the most attention. I’ve learned that a life spent alone is a life wasted.
Those last three lessons go hand-in-hand with athletes. Success doesn’t come overnight, so be patient. It’s the little things in your game (footwork, timing, hand-eye coordination) and not the 3-point shot or home run ball that require the most work. And an athlete is genuinely nothing without his or her teammates.
I’ve noticed, especially in our small neck of the woods here where sports are a way of life, that the bat and ball itself can become more important than the life of the one that holds it. It should never be that way. If a kid strikes out or makes an error, big deal. If a kid misses a jump shot or an assignment on defense, so what. If a tackle is missed or a pass dropped, get over it.
Life, no matter the stage, is always bigger than the sport they play.
If you haven’t seen the ESPN 30-for-30 documentary on the 1983 N.C. State men’s basketball championship team and its head coach, Jim Valvano, you’re missing out. Valvano got it. His friends and counterparts got it. No matter the situation, life is always bigger than the game.
Colton Matthew turns 1 today. I’ve already got him throwing with his left hand and am trying to teach him to hold a golf club. He has six teeth and loves Cheerios. He walks faster than I can run. He gives high-fives, waves “bye-bye” to complete strangers walking by at restaurants and cries when he’s hungry/thirsty/sleepy/dirty/bored/not hungry/not thirsty/not sleepy/not dirty/not bored.
It’s been a crazy, fast, whirlwind year — no, four-plus years. But I’m a better person for it.
Like your children, I want mine to grow up and be involved, be leaders and be star athletes. But the odds that they’ll excel in life are far greater than they’ll excel in sports, and that’s what is most important.
Let us never lose sight of that fact.
Happy birthday, son.
Ryan Herman can be reached at 252-559-1073 or Ryan.Herman@Kinston.com. Follow him on Twitter: @KFPSports.