You wake up at 4:00 A.M., unable to sleep. How could you? Today is the day you’ve been looking forward to for many, many years. He has too. He’s dreamed of this day since the first time he picked up a football. You’re going with him to school anyway – the big signing event in the library, with all the local media and other kids signing is that morning.

All those years of driving him to practice. All those checks you wrote to personal trainers. All those Friday nights of watching him play. It finally has culminated in this.

Remember his first varsity game as a sophomore? You were surprised they moved him up from JV, but he was ecstatic. But the opponent he’d be playing across from was a 300 pound senior who was the #1 ranked offensive lineman in the nation. You hadn’t been so nervous since the day he was born.

He had a good game, and it was on from there. Starting by the end of his sophomore year, leading tackler as a junior, team captain and defensive MVP his senior year.

The recruiters started sniffing around before his junior year. They couldn’t talk to him, but if they bumped into him in the hall of the field house – well, nothing wrong with that. They started mailing stuff. Personalized letters, post cards, etc. They watch him play, and they raved about what they saw.

Then the junior day invites came, and you went with him to as many as you could afford. Some close, some far away. Some more interested than others.

His senior year finally got there and then recruiting really started. The phone calls, the letters, the scouts at games. They always wore their colors, like some kind of football gang protocol, so that you knew they were there. The boy played hard, because he wanted to impress the scouts – but he always played hard anyway. He did everything hard – that’s how you raised him.

Then the visits – early, early Saturday morning flights to far away places – late Friday night drives to closer places. Always started off in the auditorium with all the other guys, letter jackets from everywhere. They were all all-district – they were all team captains – they were all MVPs. They were all huge.

Long talks about how great the school was – how good the food was – how the coaches would treat your son just like their own son. They all said they had your boy projected to be all conference someday – that he was their top target – that they would build their defense around him. It was only later that you find out that they told that to lots of kids, but that’s another thread.

You keep telling yourself, in the back of your mind, “I’m the parent – I gotta make sure he does the right thing for the right reasons”. The little voices, the voices of parents of previous recruits are there in the back of your mine: ”They’ll lie out their teeth – they’ll say whatever it takes – don’t trust any of ‘em…”

Where are we this week?

The phone is ringing off the hook every night. Coaches from schools that had never contacted him before were calling. Coaches from the schools that had been following him since his sophomore year were calling and reminding him of that. Guilt, persuasion, begging were all used. His high school coaches were getting called and used to get an edge for an old friend. His teammates were telling him what he ought to do.

Should 17 year old boys be pressured by adults like this? Jobs and careers depend on his choice. You realize that you and your wife are the only two adults who have only the boy’s best interests at heart. And you try to give him your best advice – but in the end, it has to be his choice.

And finally, after all these months, the madness ends. And before you know it, you’re walking into the library with him. The head coach is in the corner. He has several packets with National Letters of Intent from different schools. Your son tells him which one he wants. Coach asks him if he called the other guys that morning, otherwise he has to let them know. Yeah, he called.

And before you know it, it’s over. You barely remember going up there and signing the letter at the table with him. You do remember that your hand was shaking. Putting on the baseball caps for that school. Posing for pictures. Your family with him – he and all his senior teammates with all their different caps.

Where did all the years go? When did he get so big? How come time passes so fast now?

Those of us who follow our teams love our teams and look upon today as sort of a Christmas morning. We count our stars, we brag about who we stole, we lament who got away, and we settle in for months of trying to love basketball and baseball as much as we can.

But for every one of those sets of stars, for every faxed in NLI, there is the story of a young man. A story of his years of work. Of his years of sacrifice. Of his parents love and devotion to him that have culminated in that letter. Let us not lose sight of this fact, that NLI day is a watershed event in many young lives.