It's taken me a long day, some by-myself driving time, and a stroll down Facebook lane to process everything that happened yesterday. QB1, masquerading as a defensive lineman all season, played his last down of football EVER. My little flag-pulling kindergartener grew up and filled out and finished his college days as the #3 leader in sacks in his conference. He strapped on shoulder pads, plastered on eye-black, and ran the turf one more time donning Sewanee Purple, while we watched some 900 miles away. On another field back home, QBLittle suited up in Lumpkin Purple and fought his hardest fight ever for a 3rd Superbowl title. No parent can be in two places at once, and though it killed us both to not be able to watch both Tucker and Truett playing live, I saw something yesterday that makes me smile to this day. Truett and his team played probably their hardest game ever, going down by 6 early on and not producing much offensively. Frustration was written all over his teary little face, hands reaching up after each failed play, each punt, every loss of yards. He pleaded with his coach from field to sideline, begging him for something that would work, that language that only a coach and his player understand. My dejected 9 year old was going to have to reach deep. Life gives plenty of opportunities to succed AND to fail, and this was going to be one of those. Which would it be? My dejected 9 year old was going to have to reach deep--halftime came and went and luckily, a new #6 took the field. There was no quit on that field when they started the 3rd quarter. I like to think that of all the lessons learned and taught at our house over the last 9 years, Tucker taught the best one. Though life, covid, and various other circumstances gave him every opportunity to quit, bow out gracefully, throw in the towel on playing past high school, he never did. He kept showing up and showing out, making adjustments, rolling with the punches and the coaching changes, picking up the pieces of the kids who hung up their towels and left for greener pastures; and though he may have been in Texas yesterday, fighting his own line of scrimmage battles, I saw that spirit of overcoming adversity that got him so far come alive in #6. Tru erupted in the second half and ran for two touchdowns and made some key plays on defense to help his team clinch a 19-6 win. The only time his hands were in the air that quarter was to high five a teammate. The only tears during that half were tears of victory. I shed my own tears behind a beanie and a blanket, grateful for a win but also for something bigger: For those early mornings in the car on the way to a cold 8:00 game; for those blazing hot middle school afternoons chasing a toddler and watching a teen; for Friday Night Lights and Saturday afternoons hearing his name called as captain. It's over for one and just beginning for the other, but I know #6 isn't going anywhere without #3.