I see you line yourself up inside the circle.  You are focused, your face full of intent.  You hold the discus and spin it back and forth between both hands.  You square up, wind up, unwind, step, step and hurl.  The discus flies.  You do this again and again.  I don’t know your sport.  I may have watched it a couple of times in the olympics but never really concentrated on it, till now.

You would tell me, “dad you don’t have to come to my meets.  It’s not a big deal.”  I made the mistake of believing you, till now.  It is a big deal.  I am sorry that I was not there before.  I am here now though.  You are poetry and grace and beauty in motion, son.  There is nothing that you can do to make me prouder or love you more.  You are whole and perfect as you are.  But that said, I love watching you excel.  I love watching the beauty of your perfect and impeccable form.  I love seeing you have such a mixture of smoothness, precision and such raw power that allows you to fly that discus free and to the far reaches of the field.

I asked you what was after this meet.  You told me that the North Coast Section will be held this next week.  You are going.  You placed in the top 5.  I asked you what was after that.  You told me this, “State is after this, but I know I won’t be going to that.”  Let me tell you something.  You do not know this.  you do not know and won’t know until this next meet.  And until you don’t know, until you hear the call of the ref saying that your distance was not far enough, you don’t know.  There are so many variables.  A gust of wind, perfect form, or just brute strength and intention could put you over the top.  Please do not count yourself out until you know.

I will be there for you on Friday.  I will be there with my camera and iPhone taking pictures and video.  I will be rooting for you.  I will love you whether you came in last or first.  I will be proud of you and hold my head up simply because you are a great and amazing kid.  I will love you as I’ve loved you since you were in your mother’s tummy.

Now, throw far, son.  I am with you, your school is behind you, your friends are behind you, we want you to succeed.  Throw far, son.