Say what you will, but this blurry shot (courtesy of my old partner in crime Dustin Miller) proves three things: First of all, I really did use to shoot Friday Night Football, though honestly I never knew much more than to simply follow the ball and avoid getting hit. Secondly, I wasn't born with a beard; it took years for me to realize the less of my face visible the better. And third, I was once happy just to be in the game. Yes, running up and down the sidelines of life was a thrilling way to spend my 20's. At 38...not so much.