While me and Darry and Ollie watched him amazed.

And terrified.

ZJ

I used to wonder who I’d be if “Zachariah 44” Johnson wasn’t my daddy.

First time people who know

even a little bit about football meet me,

it’s like they know him, not me. To them,

I’m Zachariah’s son.

The tight end guy’s kid.

I’m Zachariah Johnson Jr. ZJ. I’m the one

whose daddy plays pro ball. I’m the tall kid

with my daddy’s same broad shoulders. I’m the one

who doesn’t dream of going pro.

Music maybe.

But not football.

Still, even at school, feels like my dad’s in two places

at once—dropping me off out front, saying

Learn lots, little man, then

walking into the classroom ahead of me.

I mean, not him but

his shadow. And me almost invisible

inside it.

Except to my boys

who see me walking into the classroom and say

What’s up, ZJ?

Your mom throw any cookies in your lunch?

Then all three of them open their hands

beneath their desks so that when

the teacher’s back is turned

I can sneak them one.

You Love a Thing?

Ever since I was a little kid,

I’ve loved football, my daddy told me.

Through every broken toe and cracked rib

and jammed finger

and slam to the shoulder

and slam to the head, I still

loved it.

You got something you love, little man?

Then you good.

You love food? You cook.

You love clothes? You design.

You love the wind and water? You sail.

Me, my daddy said,

I love everything about the game.

Even the smell of the ball.

Then he laughed, said

Imagine loving something so much, you love

the smell of it?

It smells like leather and dirt and sweat and new snow.

I love football with all

of my senses. Love the taste and feel

of the air in my mouth

running with the ball on a cold day. Love the smell

of the ball when I press it to my face

and the smell of the field right after it rains.

I love the way the sky looks as we stare up at it

while some celebrity sings “The Star-Spangled Banner.”

Love the sound of the crowd cheering us on.

When you love a thing, little man, my dad said,

you gotta love it with everything you got.

Till you can’t even tell where that thing you love begins

and where you end.

Who We Are & What We Love

Ollie divides fractions in his head,

can multiply them too—gives you the answer while

you’re still trying to write down the problem, knows

so much about so much but doesn’t show off

about knowing.

Darry—besides running fast, he can dance. Get the music

going and my boy moves like water flowing.

All smooth like that.

Daniel’s super chill, says stuff like