Walking Home

I attended a track meet recently. Actually, it was a middle school track meet. I was there to cover the high school baseball game next door but I had two granddaughters competing in the track meet so I stuck around the track meet until they ran.

If you’ve never been to a track meet, it’s a lot like a 3-ring circus, with events happening simultaneously all over the place. Jumping here. Running there. Throwing over there. Not usually considered a spectator sport, it can be quite fun.

At a middle school meet, you can see just about everything. Kids that look like they should already be in high school. Little ones that you can’t believe will be in high school in just a year or two. All of them seem serious about what they’re doing. All of them trying hard, doing their best. But this isn’t about a track meet at all. This is about one kid.

I noticed this kid in one of the sprints. It was probably his unusual haircut that made me notice him at first but then I noticed that he was quite good. After my granddaughters competed, I headed over to my baseball game, which had just started. About half way through the baseball game, I could see that the track meet was finished. Now jump ahead about an hour later and I’m driving home. It’s just about dusk and I’m thinking about a pre-bed snack.

Walking along on the sidewalk was that kid that I remembered from the track meet. He looked young, not real big. Still in the clothes he ran in. His backpack on his back, it seemed obvious that he was walking home from the track meet.

That alone isn’t earth shattering. I used to do it by choice from time to time. Or at least ride my bike to and from school. (It’s at this point that my kids roll their eyes and tell you that I led them to believe that I walked miles to and from school every day. In the snow. Barefoot.)

But we were easily a couple of miles from the track. And it seems equally obvious that this young man had walked all the way from that track. I immediately wanted to know his story. I thought about offering him a ride but these days that just isn’t a good idea. If I had known him—different story.

First came the obvious questions. Where were his parents? Did anyone offer him a ride home? Too often, I assume the worst because I’ve seen the worst.

Years ago, I was taking care of a football player from the opposing team. His team didn’t have any medical coverage and his injury was a concussion. His symptoms were mild so I didn’t send him to the hospital but I did want to talk to his parents.

“Where are your parents,” I asked. “They’re not here.” OK...this was a varsity high school football game. Friday night. “Where are they.” It turns out dad was probably at home watching TV and mom was at a church meeting. Unbelievable.

So after assuming the worst (negligent parents), I turned to the best. This kid might have great parents but both of them had to work on this particular evening. And maybe he just wanted to walk home on this nice spring evening or didn’t want to bother the parents of his friends.

Regardless of the circumstances, there are lessons to be learned. Every kid needs a support system. Sure, this kid might be learning independence, self-support, diligence…but I can’t imagine a world in which there was no one there at the track meet to support him. To cheer him on. To lift him up if he were to fall short. To let him know that he is loved regardless of circumstances or outcomes.

I suppose I’ll get to know this kid a bit as he moves into high school. Especially if he’s ever injured. I will be looking for him. I already know that I am a big fan of his. I hope I get to see what kind of man he grows into being. I bet he does good things with himself. I will be watching.