I'm not sure when it happened, but the moment I felt the ball in my hands and the grass under my feet, I knew that I loved this game.
Watching my dad coach was my first introduction to football. I was four years old, no taller than the Igloo cooler that held water for the team, standing on the sidelines, taking in the sights and sounds. I didn't quite understand what was happening, but I knew that I wanted to play. My father, Lamar Mickey, taught me everything about the game. I learned how to read an offense at 5, and by 7, I was mastering the skills that I practiced. We spent hours watching NFL games, rewinding and analyzing each play. It was magical to watch. Somewhere around 8th grade is when I knew that I wanted to pursue football above all other sports. It drew me in. The tension, speed of play, man-to-man contact, and strategizing to defeat an opposing team of warriors stirred in my soul. Waking up on Saturday mornings to play Pop Warner at our local high school was like Christmas every weekend. My mom would lay out my uniform the night before, and I was excited to put it on every time. Now, as a young man, I am still in love with football. My time in high school is over and I am entering yet another chapter in my academic and athletic life. I anticipate that each morning, before a game playing for the University of Notre Dame, I will awaken with the same zeal and excitement that I had as a child. Go Irish!