Change of Hart(4)

At that moment, a blur came rushing at me, throwing its arms around my legs.

I looked down to see a brown-haired little boy, probably only six or seven, clinging to my legs and sobbing.

“I love you, Jason. I knew you’d come for my birthday. Thank you for coming to see me. I love you so much. You are my hero.”

I looked at Lindsay who was as wide-eyed as I felt.

What the hell?





“I am so sorry, Mr. Hart,” the principal, Mrs. Teske, said. Again. “We’ve never had a problem with students rushing the stage before. He was just a little . . . emotional.”

I’ll say. Once his teacher was finally able to pry the little boy off me, he sat down with his class and cried for the rest of the pep rally. I spent the next thirty minutes talking about all the hard work it takes to succeed and how even I still did homework in the form of research on other teams. I answered a lot of questions, and listened intently as some of the younger ones misunderstood that asking a question was very different than telling me a story.

Even after a strange beginning, I was still excited to talk to the kids. But I couldn’t tear my eyes off of that little boy.

I could understand part of how he felt. I had had the occasional fan get emotional when meeting me. It came with the territory. I’m sure I would have burst into tears growing up if I had ever met Troy Aikman. But something about this felt very different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it, either.

“Who is he, anyway?” I asked.

“His name is Jaxon,” said Lindsay, standing by the door of her classroom with her back against the wall. “Please don’t be freaked out, Jay. He has had some hard life changes recently and I suspect having you here just sent him over the top emotionally.”

I knew better than to ask what “hard life changes” meant. I knew confidentiality was a priority in school nowadays, so I didn’t even bother to ask.

I turned to the principal.

“He said it was his birthday,” I said. She nodded. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to hang out with him in the cafeteria or anything. But do you think I could hang out with him in here for a little bit? Maybe talk football with him?”

This was something I wouldn’t normally ask to do. But there was just something about that kid.

Mrs. Teske shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Can I use your phone, Lindsay?”

While Mrs. Teske walked over to Lindsay’s desk and called down to Jaxon’s classroom, Adam sat down next to me.

“Do you want us to get some pictures? Maybe pick the least annoying reporter out there to get some footage while you talk to this kid?” he asked.

I shook my head. I was just as happy with good PR as the next guy, but that’s not what this was about. I wanted to know what this kid meant about knowing I would come on his birthday. I wanted to know why he was crying so hard. And what kind of life changes could make a little boy react so strongly? Something was making this boy sad and the least I could do was try to make his day. But I wasn’t about to let Adam get into my head about this.

“Nah,” I said. “Those vultures weren’t even supposed to be here. This isn’t about that. Let’s just make sure the little guy is ok and maybe give him an autograph and a picture.”

Adam nodded in agreement. “I’ll make sure to email any pics to the school for him.”

Adam stood up, typing into his phone again when Jaxon walked in the room. When his sad eyes looked up and he saw me, his whole face lit up. He smiled wide and came rushing at me again. Only this time I was ready.

“Hey, little man. How are you?” I asked, bent over at the waist, trying to hug him back.

“This is the best birthday ever,” I heard him respond, muffled through my jeans.

The principal dragged another chair over and coaxed Jaxon into it. I sat down across from him. “I take it you are a football fan?”

“My dad and I always used to watch your games!” he exclaimed. “Do you remember that time when Beau Prince went to kick that field goal and you jumped up and SMACKED it out of the air?” He actually jumped out of the chair with his arm up like he was swatting the football himself.

“And do you remember that time you tackled Terrell James before he could even throw the ball?” I chuckled. I’ve made thousands of plays in my life. Maybe hundreds of thousands if you included middle and high school games. Most of them, I didn’t remember. But that didn’t faze Jaxon one bit. He just kept spouting off every single play he could think of while Adam chuckled in the corner.

“Have you and your dad gone to a game before? Or do you just watch on TV?” I asked him. Man, he was a bundle of energy.