His Last Name Is Torres

His last names is Torres.

My last name is Thomas.

Therefore, our destinies were sealed. Starting in 7th grade football my locker was right next to Torres. See, the coaches simply assigned lockers by looking at the attendance sheet, this afforded them some organization and convenience; for me it was a nightmare!

The first day of football practice the coaches lined us up from shortest to tallest and made us count off, "1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3..." After the count-off the coaches directed the "1's" to one end of the field, the "2's" to the middle and the "3's" to the opposite end. I do not recall what number I was assigned; I do recall looking around to see if any number had a particular athletic advantage over the others. Was one group faster looking? More athletic looking? The coaches would of never known anyway, right? After looking around, I played it safe, and went to my designated grouping.

We were the "Fighting Tigers" led by Coach Foster, a gentle, older man who even through his gentleness, commanded the respect of not only the student athletes but the coaches as well. Torres quickly made his size and speed known to the coaches. I, however, was most impressed with his power. It always took 3, 4 or even 5 people to tackle him. If ever an unlucky defender found himself alone with Torres stampeding his way, it was less like football and more like a deer in the headlights for the helpless defender. Torres, looked for the contact, embraced it, wanted it! He played the game before, that was easy to see.

I, on the other hand, never even tried on a helmet, let alone play on a real football team. Because of Torres' speed, size and power he quickly took the title of starting fullback in the I-Formation. My speed, I ran fast because it was my strength, led to me being the tailback. As fate would have it, he and I were joined at the hip yet again. He was my lead blocker. Whenever the coach called my number, my success or failure would largely depend on Torres' performance on the play. I would run at his side until we past by the defenders, at that point it was a race between the two of us for the end zone. Many times we would run side by side into the end zone giving celebratory hi-fives while we waited for the rest of the team to show up. He would always block 3 or 4 people but hardly ever get knocked of his feet. It was as if he was a bowling ball and the defenders were the pins...he just kept rolling.

That is how he played the game. He would get carries up the middle and it would take the entire defense to bring him down. I loved running with him. We were the same. We both wanted to win. We both were extremely competitive. We both celebrated our victories. We both pushed each other in practice. We both led our team. This, however, is were the similarities stopped.

For me, this was serious business. Not just football, but everything. School. Practice. Even the team picture! It was just my personality. Everything was to be taken seriously...even when you were suppose to be having fun. Torres was quite the opposite. He was always joking and laughing in the huddle. After practice we would jog into the locker room. This is where we would clash! He would hide my pads or cleats. I would finally find them and while he was laughing I would angrily shake my head. Often times in the locker room he would purposely sit on the bench in front of my locker. When I would try and sit in his spot he would then slide over to it. He would slide back and forth until he had his fill of annoying me.

Because of his success during games, Torres was definitely a teacher on the field, however, off the field is where I learned the most from him. His playful teasing and joking was out of admiration and expressed his brotherly love for me. This was new to me. I never had that. I was surrounded by adults my entire childhood. I did not know what it was like to joke and act like a child. I was always thinking of the next thing I could accomplish. What could I do better? How could I be more impressive to those who mattered: coaches, teachers, parents?

Because of our personality differences, Torres was a pain in my side. Honestly, he got on my nerves most of the 6 years our lockers were next to each other. I realize now he was teaching me a valuable lesson: "Enjoy this!"

Several lessons actually: "Have fun!" "Laugh man!" "Chill out Trap!" I owe him greatly for those lessons, many of which I still grapple with a decade since we cleaned out our lockers for the last time.

Why were we put on the same team? What are the chances we would play the two positions that connected us the entire game? Why would I be destined (or doomed) to be next to him in the locker room for 6 years? Why did he continue to kid with me when I was obviously annoyed with him? Was this by chance or was he placed in my life as an opportunity for me to learn something...perhaps balance?

People like Tino Torres are placed in our lives to guide us in our efforts to achieve something...in our case he was teaching me balance. I hope that I have returned the favor to Tino or, better yet, payed it forward to others. Inspired someone to follow a dream. Shown someone that failure does not define them. Laughed with someone until we forgot why we were crying. Listened closely enough to someone that they realized how much they do matter.

Thanks Tino!