Your son is not going to play in the NFL. He’s not. I know you think he is great and all, and I don’t want to burst your bubble, but your son in not going pro. I know it for almost an absolute fact. I’ve done a little research. Let me break it down for you: Over a million kids play high school football. Of those million kids, there are approximately only 80,000 who go on to play college football, and of that 80,000, only 1 out of every 325 kids will get drafted to the NFL, which means that basically only about 250 will even get the chance to try to be in the NFL. Those are some odds.
Now, just imagine the statistical improbability of two kids from the same town playing on the same youth football team both getting drafted into the NFL—basically not going to happen, right? Right. So, how do I know that your kid isn’t going pro? Because he is on the same team as my kid, and I think it’s pretty obvious that my extremely talented (not to mention, well-behaved) child most likely is going pro. They can’t both go pro, now can they? Don’t be sad—this is actually good news for you. Now, instead of watching your kid play the game with stars in your eyes and grandiose ideas in your head about his “future professional football career,” you can just relax and enjoy the game, just for the love of the game.
Like I said, I’ve done a bit of research. Here is how I know that my little pumpkin is going to make it to the big time. First of all, he’s wicked cute. That right there should be all the proof that you need. I mean, look at Tom Brady, Julian Edelman, Brett Favre (hubba hubba). All of them were cute kids who grew up to be delightful eye candy, so my scrumptious little nugget is practically a shoe-in based solely on his undeniable cuteness.
He also has an amazing arm. Seriously, he throws the football so straight and there’s a ton of power behind it. I should know because the other day, he was like, “Think fast!” and he threw the ball at me. I didn’t think fast enough and the ball beaned me on the head. It was a real doozie. Ouch. I was so proud. Oh, and not only is his throwing impressive, but the ball practically spirals every single time. Every single time. Practically. QB 101 right there. You probably think your kid has a good arm too. But…no.
My little dreamboat is also a good catcher. And kicker. And runner. And blocker. If we can get him to run a little faster he could just throw to himself. I’m pretty sure that the reason he isn’t in for every single solitary play during the game is because the coaches don’t want the other kids to feel bad when they watch him and his magical moves. So they just have him in there a regular amount, same as all the other kids, so as not to draw attention. (Big shout out to the coaches for that one. Way to go, guys. We are clearly on the same page.)
Oh, and another reason why it is clear that he is going to the NFL is that all he thinks about is football all the time. Except when he is thinking about Minecraft. And except when he is thinking about how to get out of doing his homework. And except when he is thinking about food, and riding his bike, and playing on his iPad, and watching silly videos on YouTube. Other than that, I am very certain that the only thing that is on his mind is football. I think. He says it’s not. But he’s probably just saying that. You know kids.
Listen, I’m not saying that my kid is better than your kid, because in all fairness I’ve never actually paid attention to your kid. I’m just saying that I’m pretty sure that my son is the best ever. I think if you watched him you would agree. How could you not? He is the fruit of my loins for God’s sake. I know extraordinary fabulousness when I see it, and this kid is truly extraordinarily fab.
And I do have to tell you that I find it to be a little creepy that you think that your own kid is so fantastic and perfect. Please. Don’t tell me you are one of those parents. Come on. Get a grip.