Fall 2025: A season of sports

On one hand, it’s been a brutal sports season.

Penn State Football is experiencing its most disappointing stretch in recent memory. The Phillies were bounced from the playoffs in what felt like a nightmare. And when I first began writing this reflection, the Eagles had just dropped two straight and looked miles away from their Super Bowl form.

But on the other hand, it’s been one of my favorite sports seasons ever.

Because while our TV has been riddled with losses and heartbreak, our lives have been full of Saturday soccer, backyard kickball, hallway football, basement hockey, and bedroom basketball.

Sports have become everywhere and everything…

From the moment Jack shakes me awake at 5:45 a.m. whispering, “Dad, can I watch the highlights from last night’s game?” to the final play after dark when he pleads, “C’mon, Dad, just one more!”

And sometimes, even after bedtime, when Jordan and I think the kids are asleep, we hear a crash from Jack’s room followed by a triumphant 5-year old shouting: “Annnnd they winnnnn the gammmmeeee!”

When I was a kid, I rode the highs and lows of Donovan McNabb, Allen Iverson, and LaVar Arrington.

Today, we’re riding the highs and lows of Jalen Hurts, Bryce Harper, and Kaytron Allen.

My kiddos have felt the joy of victory, the sting of defeat, and the pure delight of yelling “Touchdown!” at the top of their lungs. Every day includes a handful of shouts like, “Hey Charlie! You gotta see this one!” And “Dad! Did you just see that?!” Their eyes light up at every homerun, tears well up with each bad loss, and they find themselves dumbfounded by every improbable comeback.

I can tell we’re in the season of sports by the faint smell of the soccer bag in the minivan.

By the pile of cleats, tennis rackets, and baseball bats stacked at the garage steps.

By our calendar packed with games and practices scattered across town.

By the laundry room full of grass-stained shorts, sweaty uniforms, and a little Penn State cheerleader outfit with buffalo chicken dip on the collar.

By the excitement I felt watching Charlie break through to score her first goal and watching Jack play like he’s the energizer bunny.

I can tell we’re in the season of sports by the kickball diamond that is permanently set up in our backyard.

And the fact that our trips to East Goshen Park have shifted from swings and slides to the Gaga pits and baseball fields.

By the constant calls of “Dad, catch!” as I dodge rogue passes while cleaning up dinner.

By the daily arguments with Jack insisting he was safe at second when we all know he wasn’t.

And by the look in Payson’s eyes as she sprints around to keep up with the big kids.

Meadowbrook Lane hasn’t seen backyard games this competitive since I went toe to toe with my childhood friend, Robby Worrell, in every sport imaginable from ages five to fifteen.

What makes this season even more special is that Robby and I recently reunited on the soccer field in our Thursday night men’s league, where we still pull off our signature “give and go” from back in the day.

Robby and I have been reminiscing a lot about those childhood games on Meadowbrook Lane and how cool it is to see these memories replaying themselves through a new generation of players.

Because it really was an amazing season of sports. And hopefully with many more years of grass-stained shorts, sweaty uniforms, and endless loads of laundry ahead, I can’t wait for all of it.

Because our favorite teams will sometimes lose.

Coaches and players will come and go.

But these moments together in the bleachers, on the soccer fields, and playing in our own backyard…they are the memories I’ll carry forever.