Sophomore year, 2002. I think. Maybe Froshman??? I don't recall Aaron's jersey number for the Junior Varsity season. Maybe it was this 87 he wore in this photo, but this could be a jersey he was given just for the photo day.
When Aaron was born I noticed two things about him, his ears, with which he perfected a skill of turning them into the ear hole and then releasing them one at a time--and his long fingers. Piano said the doctor. Football said the dad.
Hand-eye coordination was never a problem for Aaron. Two plus two? Don't know, don't care. But throw Aaron a pass and he'd track it down with long strides and gobble up the ball with strong hands extending from those long-long arms.
Aaron's Froshman coaches discoverd how to give him the best chance of succes-- A few pass plays where he could run past defenders or catch a ball in or above a crowd. Aaron blossomed under their direction. I share Aaron's gratitude for their wise coaching.
The Sophomore team went undefeated. Aaron caught his share of passes. His first catch that year was for a long touchdown. A rarely called penalty for the receiver (Aaron) being behind, instead of on, the line of scrimmage negated the play. There were more big plays that year and Aaron had high hopes for his Junior year.
The Junior season was the end of an unraveling world. Even so, Aaron had a few shining moments in varsity reserve games. I think the last pass I saw him catch in a game was a long touchdown where he blew past the defender along the sideline, caught the ball in stride and coasted into the endzone. After the game Aaron called to me while I was walking out of the stadium. Aaron ran over to me at the fence and gave me a big hug in front of lots of parents. Lots of envy from them. Lots of gratitude from me.
When I visited Aaron at Mount Bachelor Academy we threw the football some. For many months Aaron kept the possibility of post high school football in his mind as an inspiration. During a home visit in September '04 Aaron and I went down to the neighborhood park where we had spent numerous hours of many days over many years throwing and catching a football. Casually we threw the ball. Instead of cleats and receiver gloves, Aaron's attire was baggy pants, barefeet or sandals. The intensity picked up a little, but I could tell the days of football were probably over. By chance, the quarterback from Aaron's first two seasons of high school football came by. The two combined for some very long tosses and effortless grabs...what once was and should have been.
Last week Wednesday night I dreamt I went to heaven. At the end of a tunnel I was met by a person who told me it wasn't my time, I would have to go back. I asked to see my son before I left and was told there would be no promises, but I could go through a side door. Opening the door I approached a the back of a couch. Laying face down was Aaron. He pushed himself up, turned toward me and said "Dad. Heyy. Good to see ya." After hugs and lots of laughing, we ended up in some park with a football. I threw a long pass which looked to be sailing way beyond his reach. Just the way I remembered, Aaron kicked in to the next gear, tracked down the ball, reached out his big hands and snatched the ball out of the air.
All was good again.
Dreams are nice. I miss you.
Dad
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