It was when I was 9 years old that my family moved to Texas from California. I had no friends for the summer but only just down the street, there lived a boy by the name of Charlie Meeks. Soon to be called Meeko. It was a warm summer and I all alone at home. My mother had instructed me not to answer the door, but minutes before my mother was supposed to arrive home from work, I heard the doorbell ring. It jumped and then froze wondering what to do.
Well as I had often done before I disobeyed and went to the door thinking it could possibly be my mother but low and behold, there stood a chubby boy on the other side of the door. He looked friendly but still so odd and strange to me. As I looked at him in complete surprise, he pitched a large brown object into my hands. What was it? It was hard and smelled like old sneakers. It was a football. I had never heard of football and as I held the ball away from me in one hand. He said, "Well do you want to play football." I said with shock "No. I mean I donít know how to play football." Taking the football from my hand, he looked up at me and then towards the road. My mother was pulling into the driveway. It had turned out that my mother had met his mother at work and Meekoís mother had phoned him to tell him to come over and play football with me that day. It was the beginning of a wonderful friendship and he taught me how to play football.
To this very day, we still play every week because are on the same football team at school. I take ever chance I get to tease him that he taught me to be a better football player than him.