When I was 13 my only purpose was to become the star on our football team. That meant beating out Miller King, who was the best 1 at our school.
Football season started in September and all summer long I worked out. I carried my football everywhere for 2.
Just before September, Miller was struck by a car and lost his right arm. I went to see him after he came back from 3. He looked very pale, but he didn't cry.
That season, I 4all of Miller's records while he 5 the home games from the bench. We went 10-1 and I was named most valuable player, but I often had crazy dreams in which I was to blame for Miller's 6.
One afternoon, I was crossing the field to go home and saw Miller 7 going over a fence—which wasn't 8 to climb if you had both arms. I'm sure I was the last person in the world he wanted to accept 9 from. But even that challenge he accepted. I 10 him move slowly over the fence. When we were finally 11 on the other side, he said to me, “You know, I didn't tell you this during the season, but you did 12. Thank you for filling in for me. ”
His words freed me from my bad 13. I thought to myself, how even without an arm he was more of a leader. Damaged but not defeated, he was 14 ahead of me. I was right to have 15 him. From that day on, I grew bigger and a little more real.
