I photograph a group of high school football players. I know some of their names. Not nearly all. And I don't really know their faces unless they're looking at me through a face mask.
But I know their eyes. And I know their their spirit. Their will and their determination. Their drive and their willingness to give. The respect that they have for the game, their coaches, their teammates and themselves.
I know that they want to win and be the best and work the hardest and come out on top every time. I know their disappointment when it doesn't happen, but I also know their courage to stand up and try again without wallowing around in self-pity.
I watched these kids yesterday as they welcomed in a new group of recruits. These new kids are younger. Some of them aren't really even in high school yet. They're smaller. They don't know their way around and aren't really sure which way to go and how to get it done. Without help, they could get hurt.
As I wandered the room, taking their pictures, watching them work, listening to them talk, I was aware once more why I love these guys so much. There was no Us and Them. No Older and Younger. No Experienced and New. It was just We.
Those that knew what to do offered help to those that didn't. Those who could showed those who couldn't. The ones who had been there before helped guide the first steps of those just beginning their journey.
Impressed is not a big enough word for how I felt as I watched them all work. I was struck, not by the power in their muscles, but by the strength of their character. Truly remarkable people doing amazing things together.
If you asked them, they'd probably just tell you they were weight training. Trying to show the new kids how it's done. But it was much more than that. It was the very first spark of team spirit being fired off.
And I was grateful to have witnessed. it.
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