Ron

“Hey Jack!”

I turn away from my team, celebrating our victory over the game, as I hear the voice of my younger cousin Ron. The little guy, about seven years old, comes running across the soccer field. He’s smiling brightly and waving his hands over his head. I pretend to be shocked to see him, and he plays along, chasing after me and laughing. I let him catch me next to the bench.

“Hey, little man,” I finally say as we sit down. “You enjoy the game?”

“Yeah! It was awesome! You scored, like, a bajillion points!” he said, swinging his legs back and forth as he smiled up at me. The kid idolized me for some reason. Probably since his old man wasn’t around that often. I didn’t mind.

“I scored three goals, Ron,” I corrected. “And the other players did a lot to win the game as well.”

“They weren’t as great as you, though! I want to be just like you when I grow up!” He says it with such pride and confidence that I’m stunned. I knew he idolized me, but this was a bit of a shock.

“Well . . . that’s very nice of you to say, Ron. But I don’t think you be just like me.”

“Why not?”

“Well, you wouldn’t be you, now would you? You’d be another me! You wouldn’t be as special as you are if you were just another me, now would you? The world doesn’t need another Jack, it needs Ron.”

“Huh,” he says, his little face scrunched up in thought. “I hadn’t seen it that way. I could be pretty awesome on my own, I guess.”

“Sure you could!” I said encouraging him. I loved moments like this. It made me feel good about myself, more so than just scoring a goal.

“Yeah, that sounds cool! Hey, can we go for ice cream?” he asks, pointing to the snack bar on the other side of the field.

“Sure! Wanna race me?”

“Yeah!” he yells, and dashes off before I even get up. I chase after him, easily catching up. I could beat him. But I let him win.