Clay Matthews, Steve Nash and Mark Buehrle Remind Us How to Be a Kid

I want you to close your eyes. I want you to remember what it was like to be in grade school for just a moment.

Remember how you used to run across the blacktop chasing the basketball. Remember the sound your worn shoes made as they shuffled through the dirt while reaching for that ground ball. Remember how you dreamed you were flying as you dove for that football.

Remember that sinking feeling you felt when that bell rang, signaling that recess was over and it was time to go back inside.

I just want you to take a moment to remember what it was like to be a kid again.

We don't have time for recess anymore. We wake up early to go to work and stay up late to watch the latest episode of American Idol (we all know you're watching). We worry about the economy, the war on terror or whatever "this just in" news story society throws in our faces. We have bills, and car payments, and mortgages. We've forgotten what it's like to remember.

Even professional athletes, who get to play the games they love, have forgotten what it was like to be a kid. They get caught up in money and endorsements. They attempt to boost their performance through drugs rather than practice. They want to live the rock-and-roll lifestyle rather than stay humble for what they have. Even they have forgotten what it's like to remember.

That is why as a sports fan I want to cling to players like Clay Matthews, Steve Nash and Mark Buehrle. When I see them play, I want to pick up the phone, call my friends and get a football or basketball game together. I want to rummage through my attic to find my old baseball mitt and go play catch with my dad. I want to remember how I felt as a kid.

These players don't care how they look (Clay Matthews). They are going to give it all that they have the first game of the season (Mark Buehrle). They don't care that they're Canadian (Steve Nash). They might get a bloody nose (Steve Nash). They might forget to cut their hair (Clay Matthews). They might play for Chicago (Mark Buehrle). None of these things matter to them. They just want to play the game they love.

They go out there day after day and month after month and remind us what it feels like to be a kid. They do it in such a way so as to implore us, to beg us, to constrain us to just remember. To stop worrying and remember when we had nothing to worry about. To stop being afraid and remember when we feared nothing. To stop crying because there is no crying in baseball.

They simply ask us to remember how we felt as a kid—to close our eyes, go back and remember.