Charles William was your average seventeen year old kid. He tried hard in school, took care of his family by cooking, cleaning, and babysitting, and maintained a steady job at the local convenient store. Similar to other boys his age, Charles loved sports. The problem though, was that Charles wanted to play football professionally. Football, however, was not a sport that was considered professional. All of Charles friends played baseball and talked about how they were going to continue their baseball careers throughout the rest of their lives. Charles, unfortunately, did not have the same, fortunate plan. Despite this setback, Charles was determined to take his passion for football to the next level.

“Charles! Dinner’s ready!” Charles mother, Helen, called up the stairs.

“Coming!” Charles yelled back. He ran downstairs and sat down at the dinner table.

“Hi, Charles,” his younger sister, Mabel, said to him.

“Hey, Mabel,” he responded.

“So, Charles, have you given any thought as to what you want to pursue in college?” Charles’ father, James, asked.

“Ummmm…you know…the usual,” Charles answered hesitantly and indecipherably.

“And what may that be?” James chuckled.

“Football,” Charles replied hopelessly, expecting a caustic response.

James grunted in his seat reluctantly. “Charles, we’ve been over this. Football is a hobby, not a career. Your mother and I have worked very hard to make good money to send you to college. College is a privilege, Charles, that not every child is lucky enough to get,” James attempted to convey. “And lately it’s been the motif at family dinners,” he berated.

“But, Dad, it’s what I want! Coach Thompson says I’m good enough and…”

“Enough. We are not discussing this anymore. Anytime anyone asks you about college, all you seem to talk about is football and it’s time you stop fantasizing over a career that is not going to happen for you,” James spoke rather raucously.

“Okay,” Charles reacted, giving up and avoiding eye contact with his detrimental tormenter.

“Charles, honey, why don’t you clear off your plate and go upstairs to finish your homework,” his mother finally spoke, commiserating with her son over her husband’s stubborn attitude.

I’ll show him how much football means to me. I am a football virtuoso and I know I can do this. Charles laid in his bed that night, feeling defeated and like he was about to start bawling, thinking about how much he just wanted to play football and have a career of his choice. Not what his parents wanted or his teachers encouraged him to do, but what he, himself, wanted to do.


“Beeeeeeeeep!” Coach Thompson blew his pristine whistle boisterously, as if to display his macho side. “Alright get in your starting line-up positions,” he yelled to the team.

The team scrambled into the right places. Coach Thompson then handed the ball to George Jones, the team’s current quarterback. Although George and Charles were cronies, Charles always secretly envied George and there was always a part of him that wanted to be quarterback. However, Charles had learned to face the fact that, in the team’s eyes, George was always going to be transcendent compared to Charles.

“You want the ball, Charlie baby?” George yelled obnoxiously while brandishing the football in front of Charles’ face.

The practice continued until it got dark, unlike most other sports practices where the team practiced until they felt ready for their upcoming game. That was the difference between Charles’ sports life and another teen’s baseball life, for example. They practiced and played for their games. Charles and his team practiced just to practice. They had never had an actual game before. He said goodbye to his teammates and coach and traipsed off the field and headed home. When he walked through the door, he saw his little sister savoring the evening’s dinner. Charles sat at dinner and was quiet the whole time. He watched his parents eat and his sister laugh about a school incident that had occurred earlier that day. He looked at his beatific family all together, laughing with each other. Usually he would have joined in with them, but he just was not in the mood today. He had only taken a pittance of the meal and could barely even finish that. He just kept thinking about the one thing that mattered most…football. He wanted to play professionally but there were a few steps that he would have to take in order for it to come true. First, he would have to find a new team. A team that actually cared what he had to say and wanted him to get better. That was the first step in making his dream career a reality.

The next day, Charles woke up and decided to go to the field to walk around and to just to think. When he got there, he saw something he was not expecting- a new football team. They were lined up in unison on the twenty-yard line, doing warm-ups and stretching. Charles walked up closer to observe.

“Can I help you?” a young girl, about Charles’ age, asked him probably noticing Charles’ uneasiness.

“Um… sorry. I just didn’t know what was going on here. I didn’t know there was another team that practiced here,” Charles answered the girl.

“Relax. It’s fine. Hi, I’m Emma,” the girl, he now knew was Emma, laughed.

“I’m Charles.”

“Well, Charles, you play football?” she asked him.

“Yeah. I play on a different team, but it’s not really working out anymore,” Charles told her.

“Well, Charles. Welcome to the ‘Vikings,” Emma smiled.

“The Vikings?” Charles questioned.

“Yeah. That’s their team name. My brother’s the quarterback, John. He’s the one right there leading the warm-ups,” Emma pointed her brother.

John was tall and built. He joked around with his teammates and they laughed and seemed to be genuinely having a good time. Very different from my team. Charles thought to himself. If this was Charles’ team, Coach Thompson would probably be yelling at some team member for arriving late, and George would most likely be making fun of the weakest member.

“John! Come here for a minute,” Emma called to her brother over the wired fence. John walked over to where they were standing.

“Who’s this kid?” John chuckled to himself.

“This is Charles. He plays football,” Emma assured him.

“Football, huh?” John asked.

“Uhh…yeah…I do,” Charles responded uncomfortably.

“You wanna play with us?”

“Umm…uhh…sure, sure that’d be great,” Charles answered trying to contain his excitement.

“Great. The next practice is tomorrow at 8 a.m.”

“I’ll be here,” Charles told him.

“Good,” John trudged back to his awaiting team.

“I’ll see you tomorrow too. I come to every practice and game,” Emma looked at Charles.

“Okay, great,” Charles stared at Emma. He looked at her smile and how her hair just perfectly framed her face.

“Bye,” Emma gave Charles one last wave, and walked into the field to join her brother.

The next few practices went well. Charles began to fit in with the team and make friends. However, it was not all “butterflies and rainbows” and pretty soon problems started to arise, just like anything else.

“What do you mean we don’t get to play the game on Sunday?” one of Charles teammates yelled at the field owner.

“There is a baseball game that is being played. I’m sorry boys,” the man responded. He gave them a sympathetic look and with that, he exited the field.

“We don’t get to play a game?” Charles was confused.

“Apparently, we only get to practice on the field. We thought we were practicing all these weeks for a game. But, according to the field owner, we were just practicing to practice,” John told him.

That sounded familiar, Charles thought.

“The only reason we even get to practice here is because my uncle runs the field practices,” Emma reasoned.

“Well, all we need is a sponsor. You know? Someone who is willing to sponsor us that is well-known. That way people can start to follow us and we might have a better chance at having a professional football game,” Charles tried convincing his team.

“Okay, and who is going to talk to this ‘sponsor’?” John questioned.

“I will. Just tell me who I should talk to and I’ll talk to him,” Charles answered confidently.

“William Baker. You get the approval of William Baker, and our team is destined to play in professionally,” Emma thought.

“Fine. I’ll go talk to William Baker right now. You keep practicing,” Charles ordered.

“Okay…,” John accepted not convinced.

The team practiced for hours while Charles finally found Mr. Baker’s office and found enough courage to walk in. He began to speak to Mr. Baker about his situation. Meanwhile, the players back at the field began to get tense.

“This is hopeless. Absolutely hopeless,” one of Charles’ teammates sulked on the bench. “How are we ever going to get a chance at playing professionally if no one gives us a chance?”

“Yeah! This isn’t fair…” another one agreed.

“Guys, calm down. Charles is talking to Baker right now. I’m sure it will all work out,” John tried to reassure his doubtful teammates.

The conversation went back and forth until they got too tired to say anything else. The practice ended early and all the players trudged home. Charles, however, was still hard at work.

“Please…All I’m asking is that you take a look at our team and just give us a chance. That’s all we’re asking for—a chance,” Charles argued with every last bit of hope. He was talking to William Baker, a successful sports team owner and sponsor. Everyone wanted Baker’s support and sponsorship to help their team and Charles was determined to get his approval.

“Now, Charles, I think that what you are doing, for yourself and for your team, is really something special. I just don’t know if I have the time that something like this is going to take and I…” William began, but was cut off.

“Mr. Baker, please, with all due respect, this team and the professionals, it means a lot. Not just to me and to my team, but to other future kids as well. If we change this “no-professional-football” stuff now, then other kids in the future who have the same dream that me and my teammates have right now, will be able to pursue that dream. I know that what I am asking for is a little ridiculous and unfathomable. However, I just want a shot. I really believe that this is what needs to happen. So, Mr. Baker, all I’m asking is that you look past the money and the time that is going to be needed to put this thing together, and try to see the one team that practices on that field every day, and think about how all they want is a chance at their dream,” Charles finished off.

“Well…” William started.

“Well…” Charles repeated waiting for the imminent decision.

“Charles, I have to admit that I admire your determination and passion for this idea. And to be honest with you, I don’t know if this goal is actually achievable or possible…but I am willing to give you and your team…a chance,” William Baker smiled at Charles. “I will call you boys tomorrow and we can discuss this further. I have to go to a meeting now,” and with that, Mr. Baker was on his way.

Charles just stood there speechless and flabbergasted as he watched William walk away. He watched the man that would now change how sports world works, all because he had made a difference. He attempted to mumble out a “thank-you” but his mouth could find no words.

After that night, everything changed. At first, the “professional football” idea was not getting around enough and not many people were willing to support it.

“Football…pro?!” they would say.

“William…Baker? He’s one organizing the professional football teams? Why would such a rich man like him be wasting his time on these kids?”

That was what people started off thinking. Casting death-stares, they would walk past Charles. However, they gradually became more interested once they saw the teams practice. The crowd was able to see the passion in the team’s eyes as they watched the boys play. Mr. Baker was also able to make more football teams with kids who had the same dream as the Vikings. It took about six weeks for the teams to be formed and then it was time. The moment that Charles had waited for all his life. The first, professional football game.


“Dad…I want you to come to this game,” Charles started.

“Charles…you know how I feel about all of this and I’m not going to instigate a fight with you about it right now…” Charles cut him off.

“Dad…I know! I know that you hate the idea of playing a sport professionally and not taking advantage of the fact that I could go to college. I know you and mom worked hard for me to earn that privilege and I am grateful, I am. I understand where you’re coming from, I do. But you have to understand that this is what makes me happy. This college idea is great and I know that you and Mom only want what’s best for me. I’m not asking you to love the idea of me doing this as a career. But I’ve worked hard for this, and I’m asking you, as my father, to just come to the game. There’s gonna be a lot of cheering fans there, but the only faces I really need to see is yours, Mom’s and Mabel’s,” Charles told him.

You have worked extremely hard and there is no doubt that I am proud of you. We will be there, Charles, cheering you on,” James told him. “I’m proud of you son.”

Charles attempted to get some sleep that night as he girded himself for tomorrow’s big game, and with that he fell asleep. Little did Charles know, that the next day was a day that Charles would always remember.

The next morning Charles woke up with a grin on his face. He ate breakfast and jogged to the field. The team warmed up and the game quickly began. The last five minutes were five minutes of Charles’ life that he would always picture in his mind. He looked up into the stands and found his family’s smiling faces. His mom was holding Mabel and they were yelling and cheering. Even Charles’ father was enjoying himself. He then spotted Emma dancing in the stands and giggling with her friends as they watched the game. This is it. This is what I’ve waited for my whole life. And with that, Charles threw the ball to John and John raced it down to the end-zone, scoring the winning touchdown. The fans in the stand went wild as the Vikings ran off the field in glory. Charles made his way to find his parents amongst the crowd.

“Ahhhh!” Charles’ mother screeched as she approached them. “Honey, we are so proud of you!” his mother said she squeezed Charles so tight that he became shortened of breath.

“Charles, come here,” James pulled Charles over to him and took a deep breath. “Charles, you played excellently today and I feel contrition. I wish I could have seen more of your practices and—to be honest—it’s my own fault. I should have supported you more and I hope you can forgive such venial mistakes. I am so thankful that you were so determined to get what you wanted, and that you were able to accomplish this because of that. I guess I was also determined but for the wrong reason. You must have gotten that patrimony from me. If this is the career you are choosing, your mother and I support you one hundred percent,” James appraised his son as he looked him in the eyes.

“Thank you, Dad. That really means a lot,” Charles grabbed his father and embraced him.

Days passed, then weeks, then months. One by one, more and more sponsors began to call in to sponsor Charles’ team. People continued to find out about where and when the games were occurring and they made efforts to go and see them. They would extol Charles on his ingenuity. It all seemed to happen too fast. However, there were times when Charles would sit down and reflect on everything that had happened to him.

He would realize that maybe if he hadn’t been so stubborn, he would have been at college right then. He would have been cooped up in a dorm, studying with a roommate. His dad maybe would have been pleased, but would Charles? Charles didn’t think so. Football. That was what Charles was supposed to do with his life. It was the only thing he could see himself doing as a career and not get bored or tired of it. Maybe he was different than the other kids his age. While they were attending college and competing in the Olympic try-outs, Boston Marathons, or gas-powered car races, all Charles wanted was football. It was the one thing that, no matter what, would always make him happy.