Arsenal striker Emmanuel Adebayor tells the story of the first time he walked, which wasn’t until age 4. His mother had searched all over Africa looking for a miracle for her son, and it finally came in the form of a football.

Says Adebayor of the effect the story has had on his life:

“Everything I do in life I put in the hands of God, my creator,” says Adebayor.

“He gave me the chance to be where I am today and He’s the one that can take it all away from me. So at the team hotel, I pray before sleeping and I pray again in the morning. There is nothing more important for me than God.”

(story by Richard Bright in the UK Telegraph)

(h/t: PFB Member Matt Ralph)

PFB Member Zack Mansfield writes of his experience 7 years ago in the NCAA Division I Soccer Semi-Finals. (The Greatest Game)

I have nothing. Nothing to do. Nothing to care about. Nothing.

Auburn was bad this year, very bad, and I have no bowl game to look forward to. Sure there is a coaching search and recruiting, but those just seem to depress me more after a bad season. The Tigers are playing basketball, but they aren’t very good either, and when it comes to hoops, I am as fair weather as they get.

I want to play golf. I brought my clubs in last night and cleaned them. They look great, but I have no time to use them. The sun has set by the time I get off work, and weekends this time of year are reserved for shopping and decorating and parties and other things besides golf.

Sure there’s pro sports, but if I’m being honest with you, and I have no reason not to be, then I’d tell you missing every NBA, MLB, NHL and NFL game from now till Kingdom Come would not upset me. I do enjoy watching golf, but they aren’t playing now, and even if they were, Tiger is still rehabbing his knee.

I tried to pick a soccer team to follow. After reading Nick Hornby’s Fever Pitch I became fascinated by the madness of it all. I keep up with Celtic FC, but living an ocean away makes it hard to really get in to it. I have watched a few games at work on a pirated feed from some Arab network. Did you know the Arabic word for goal is قصد

But January will be here soon, and my weekends will be spent playing cold golf. Then the grass will start to grow, and flowers will bloom, and Tiger will return to the Masters. And before long I’ll be back in Jordan-Hare Stadium, cheering on my Tigers with their new coach. But for now, I’m kind of bored.

Just a real quick thought on a saturday night…

Oregon-Arizona St. notwithstanding, there were two huge football games scheduled to be played this weekend. (and congrats to Jordan and all you Duck fans out there on the impressive win.)

Patriots-Colts, of course, is being played on Sunday afternoon in Indianapolis. Everyone and their mom will be watching that game tomorrow.

But a few thousand miles away this morning (or afternoon, depending on where you were), another huge football game was being contested. Arsenal and Manchester United, the top two soccer teams in the English Premier League, went at it this afternoon and in the end, came to a 2-2 tie.

Now I’m not here to knock soccer and try to convince you how boring it is. Despite the fact that I don’t follow soccer even a little bit, I’ve still been sucked in to a good match a time or two before. (and from what i read of today’s game, it sounded like an exciting one.) I see the appeal and I appreciate it, even though i rarely experience it.

The only point I wanted to make was, can you imagine if the Colts-Pats game ends in a tie tomorrow? Granted, there’s a better chance of Joel Osteen performing “I’m Too Sexy” during halftime of the game than there is of it getting through a 15-minute overtime period without either of these teams scoring, but can you imagine if it was a tie?

Everyone is so ready to crown the winner of this game with the tiara of “Super Bowl Favorite” and “Possible Undefeated Season”, what would happen if there was no winner? I think Tony Dungy would be at peace with it. I think Bill Belicheck would punch himself in the face for an hour. I think ESPN would implode upon itself up in Bristol, Connecticut.

Thankfully, less than 24 hours from now we will have a winner, and that’s reason #421 why i like our football better than theirs. What can i say? I’m a dumb American I guess. I don’t like my books or movies to end in ties, why would i want my football to be any different?

Come Sunday afternoon, my mantra will be, May the Best Team Win, As long As One Team Wins. Enjoy the game everyone…

I posted this over on the Burnside Blog, but since it was sports-related, i thought i’d post it here too…

My daughter Kylie has been playing soccer this Fall, and it’s been a learning experience for both of us. She’s only 6 years old, and has never played any sport before, but she said she wanted to play soccer this year so we signed her up. The kids on her team, both boys and girls, are ages 6-7 and most of them played soccer last year, so she’s a bit behind the curve.

At the first practice i went to, i found myself being a little more vocal than i had intended to be. Kylie was having a great time out there, but she wasn’t ever where she was supposed to be. Additionally, she didn’t seem interested in taking the ball from anyone, which is very nice when you’re playing at home, but kinda defeats the purpose when you’re playing soccer. So naturally, i found myself “loudly encouraging” her with shouts of “KYLIE, GO GET THE BALL!” or “KYLIE GET BACK ON DEFENSE!” or “KYLIE, DONT BE AFRAID TO GRAB A LITTLE JERSEY AND TRIP HIM THE NEXT TIME HE GETS BY YOU, THAT PIECE OF DIRT!”

After the first practice I introduced myself to the coach, and I asked him if he had a problem with me helping to “coach” my daughter from the sidelines. “It’s your kid,” he said, “as long as you’re not contradicting what I’m saying, you can do what you want.”

I thought about that all week. It’s my kid…I’m her dad. And here I am auditioning for the “obnoxious parent yelling from the sideline” role. Between Kylie and my son Parker, I figure I’ve got another dozen years of sideline parenting ahead of me. Perhaps now was the time to decide what type of sideline parent I would be.

The next practice I tried a different approach. I just sat there and watched. When Kylie would run up to the ball and then not kick it, I said nothing. When she would wander all over the field, I said nothing. When she would be responsible for letting the other team score, I said nothing. Honestly, it felt so much better. When Kylie would come off the field, I’d always give her a high-five and tell her how good she was doing, and then maybe give her something to think about the next time she went out there.

But no yelling. No screaming and no yelling.

This weekend is the final saturday of the season. I’m coaching the team because her coach is going to be out of town. It should be a blast. Last week I helped coach practice and one of the girls had a breakaway all alone and suddenly realized her shoe was untied so she just stopped running and tied her shoe while a swarm of kids came over to take the ball. It was hilarious.

Oh and one last thing. During last saturday’s game Kylie actually kicked the ball near the other team’s goal. Towards the goal, in fact. And as it was rolling towards the net, i saw one of her teammates lining up to kick it right in. He was going to score instead of her. Only he completely whiffed. And the ball kept rolling…and rolling…until it rolled right into the goal! She scored! Her first goal of the season.

Her coach, knowing how far she had come since the beginning of the year, said he got chills when Kylie scored. I opted for tears and a big smile myself.

And yelling. Lots of screaming and lots of yelling.