Thank You, God.

Thank You, for early morning summer workouts,
For dewy fields, with cut grass that clumps
On cleats and leaves green stains on white uniforms
That my mom can’t get out.

Thank You, for late nights in a packed gym,
And popcorn scattered in a sticky corner,
A heap of sweaty jerseys in a laundry basket,
And pom-pom remnants scattered in the bleachers.

Thank You, for snowy flakes on Friday nights
And chattering teeth,
And sidelines
And benchwarmers.

Thank You, for freshly varnished floors,
For nets and hoops and the old folks
Smelling of Old Spice
Who tell me they’re proud of me.

Thank You for muscle, sinew, and bone
That grow strong through work
And sweat and tears.

Thank You, for ice baths and ice packs,
Heating pads and ibuprofen,
Braces and tape and knee pads and helmets.

Thank You for all these things, but most of all,

Thank You,
For my teammates.
For my friends.
For we are created in Your image,
And win or lose, I do all
For Your glory.

Thank You,
For my coaches,
My leaders.
My guides.
For discipline
And endurance
And the occasional chewing,
A busted clipboard,
A hug and a high five and 
A job well done.

And though it is hard,
Thank You,
For humility and loss,
For through these I have learned more than by any victory.

And even, God, for the officials,
The rules, the lines, the whistles.
For the boos of the fans,
For those who don’t understand
The pressure—
I still thank You.

Because You understand.

After all, this is just a game,
And that other team, well, they’re Your children too
And You created them the same as me,
Gifted them with strength, with passion, with talent.

(And the thing I’m not supposed to put on paper—
God, help me beat them down—
I’m just being honest,
Just keeping it real.
I’ll do it all for Your glory, I promise.)

Stop.
Game, set, match. 
You’ve already won.

Forgive me, God, for focusing on myself,
Take away the wrong attitude.
Fill me with all that is good and true.
At the end of it all (because the end will come), 
Let me win with grace, let me lose with grace.

And, one day, God, when there are no more fans,
No more parents waiting in the parking lot
For the bus to get back to the school,
And the final buzzer has sounded,
I’ll still thank You for the memories.

But it’s not time for that yet, so my only request:

Help me play my best, and help my teammates too.

And God—I can’t say it enough—

Thank You.