THE NFL REGULATION FOOTBALL

(The following also appeared in the Chicken Soup for the Sports Fan.)

The year was 1964. The place was Chicago. A man I worked with had acquired a couple of special, all-leather, NFL-regulation footballs, inscribed -- 1963 Chicago Bears, and was selling them at a good price.

My first son was on the way. (This was in pre-ultrasound days, but I figured we had at least a 50/50 chance it would be a son. It was a chance I was willing to take.) I bought the football. I had my son's "coming home from the hospital" gift -- an all-leather, NFL-regulation football, inscribed -- 1963 Chicago Bears. That was something special.

Several years later, young Tom (we were not too creative in the name department) was rummaging around in the garage as only a five year old can rummage when he came across the special, all-leather, NFL-regulation football, inscribed -- 1963 Chicago Bears. He asked if he could play with it.

With as much logic as I felt he could understand, I explained to him that he was still a bit too young to play carefully such a special football. We had the same conversation several more times in the next few months, and soon the requests faded away.

The next fall, after watching a football game on television, Tom asked, "Dad, remember that football you have in the garage? Can I use it to play with the guys now?"

Eyes rolling up in my head, I replied, "Tom, you don't understand; you just don't go out and casually throw around an all-leather, NFL-regulation football, inscribed -- 1963 Chicago Bears. I told you before; it's special."

Eventually Tom stopped asking altogether, but he did remember. A few years later he told his younger brother, Dave, about the all-leather, NFL-regulation football, inscribed -- 1963 Chicago Bears that was special and kept somewhere in the garage. Dave came to me one day asking if he could take that special football and throw it around. It seemed like I'd been through this before, but I patiently explained, once again, that you don't just go out for no reason and throw around an all-leather, NFL-regulation football, inscribed -- 1963 Chicago Bears.

Soon Dave, too, stopped asking.

A couple of months ago I was in the garage looking for some WD-40 (which, with the aid of a rubber hammer, I use to fix about everything I choose to fix), when I noticed a large box that had "coveralls" written across it. I couldn't remember bringing along any coveralls when we moved from Chicago to Albuquerque, so I opened the box. There, long forgotten, was the all-leather, NFL-regulation football, inscribed -- 1963 Chicago Bears.

It wasn't special anymore. It wasn't special at all.

I stood alone in the garage. The boys had long since moved away from home, and suddenly I realized the football had never been so special after all. Children playing with it when it was their time to play would have made it special. I had blown those precious, present moments that can never be reclaimed, and I had saved a hunk of leather filled with stale air. For what?

I took the football across the street and gave it to a family with young children. A couple of hours later I looked out the window. They were throwing, catching, kicking and letting skid across the cement my all-leather, NFL-regulation football, inscribed — 1963 Chicago Bears. Now it was special!

You may not have a football stashed away in a coverall box, but do you have dishes that are too good to use, furniture that's too expensive to sit on, clothes and aged bottles of wine for that special occasion that never comes? Are you "doing more with less," "doing better faster," and "sticking twelve hours of work in a ten hour bag," to get more "things," while at the same time not using, or even appreciating, the "things" you do have? Are you letting the one-of-a-kind, never-to-be-repeated moments — the footballs in life — get away?


Lesson:If you save something long enough, you lose it.