Dreams, reality and the difference between the two

When I was younger, like millions of other kids, I always wanted to be a player in the National Football League. I exhausted many years learning all about the players and how they eventually came to live the dream. I searched, too long I now realize, for paths that would lead me their way.

It wasn't the lack of trying that prevented me from playing such a great game professionally. In middle school I used to ride my silver Schwinn BMX bike three miles to and from practice everyday. There I would go, every day after school, my cleats pumping the pedals and my hands holding the helmet, shoulder pads and handlebars. I never considered the energy it took to make it to practice, I just knew how long it took to get there and that I couldn't make it any other way.

Unfortunately, I never had the right DNA. I knew my vertical leap had to be this and my 40 yard dash had to be that, but I could never live up to those standards.

My father told me once that, "If you want to run faster, you have to spend more time running." That was a life lesson. It was his way of helping me run faster, but I have always applied it to things I have wanted to do better.

After my father said that, I started running sprints constantly. I drove everybody crazy with my 40 yard dash this and my 40 yard dash that. My younger brother Jimmy spent half his life up late at night working the stop watch as I inched my way closer to my goal.

On Sundays, my father and I would sit in our family's TV room watching every game together. He rested in his recliner after a long week of work and clouded the top of the room with cigarette smoke. I was sprawled low on the carpet, avoiding the smoke, scanning magazines with team and player information in search of what the players and I might have in common.

My favorite players and teams were those who seemed to "make it" despite all the odds against them.Deep down, even though I was a good player, I must have known the odds against me.

I always liked the Buffalo Bills, no matter how many times they lost the Super Bowl.Mostly I liked the Bills because of their safety, Mark Kelso. Some may remember him as the guy with the funny helmet. Because of repeated concussions, he started wearing the "gazoo" helmet that had the additional foam shell. The extra shell reminded me of a bad toupee; but for Kelso it was wear it or don't play. It added five more seasons to his career.

My thought was that if this guy could make it, then so could I. Well, as it turned out, he went on to 30 career interceptions and four Super Bowl appearances and I went on to playing high school football in Spokane. Reality and dreams couldn't have been further apart in this case.

I think this is where I learned for the first time what life teaches you and keeps reminding you for the rest of your life. I finally understood that no matter how hard we work at things, we may never reach the levels we aspire to and get exactly what we want. We may emulate those who we admire, but often the results are different.

Sometimes, thankfully, not getting exactly what we want is exactly what we need.

Ironically, I no longer watch or play sports, but some nights, a dream drifts into my mind about playing the game I loved so much. I'm still not fast enough most nights, despite all of my best efforts. However, I haven't given up on the idea of practice and dedication. Like anything else, luck ends up making most decisions, but I expect the hard work to pay off sometime.

Today, Kelso is just another fifth-grade teacher in western New York state. I am a small town newspaper reporter in central Washington. Somehow, now, we almost seem equals. But in my mind, I know that he was once one of those men who ran among the gods on the freshly cut grass and perfectly painted lines of monstrous stadiums filled with screaming fans, and I only dreamt about it.

David A. Cole is the new county reporter, but he plans on trying out for the Moses Lake football team next year at free safety.