Black captain, are you ready? 


It’s not a great photo, and I swear the ones I take for this trip will be better, but I just wanted to post something as I sit, waiting for the rest of the team in Logan Airport. It’s the first time I’ve been here (Newark Liberty or die) and I’m nauseous as anything. I don’t mind flying, thankfully I got well acclimated with being in the air as a kid (thanks Mom and Dad!) and I spend a fair amount of time in it now (here’s to you, LeiLei and Mo!). No, it’s mostly adrenaline. I’m intimate with this feeling, it’s the same as the kind I get before the first hit of a rugby match, that sort of electrifying anxiety that opens a gaping pit in your stomach. You get that first solid hit in and you’re golden, the rest of the game will be fine. But until you get that first hit in, you’re sick and jittery. 

So here I am, waiting for the ref to ask “Black captain, are you ready?” Waiting for my professor to say, “Yes sir!” Waiting for our kicker to boot the ball deep into the forward pack, waiting to blitz off the kick off, straight into the challenges that lie ahead and land that first clean tackle of the trip. Connect, wrap, drive. After that, everything will be fine. 

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