Capturing You

Chapter 6: Following in Your Footsteps

     The room erupted, both kids and parents cheering in excitement as Burrow entered, accepting hugs and high fives. I took photos nonstop as he gave special greetings to everyone he could before the reader reined them all in, gathering the kids back to where they sat, their parents standing closer to the group now. The reader offered her seat to him, standing up and over to the side herself, but he declined, pulling the seat away to join the kids on the carpet.

     Even I smiled at that. Click, click, snap. Everyone listened intently, waiting for the quarterback's first words. Not a single sound was made in the vibrantly decorated room, numerous displays of animals and authors and art haloing the group sitting in the center.

     "I want to thank you guys for welcoming me to your library," he said. "How many of you are Bengals fans?"

     A silly question to ask, as everyone in the city had either been a loyal fan or joined the bandwagon when the Bengals won the championship. Every kid raised their hand anyway and cheered for him.

     "I'm not sure who knows this, but I was raised in Ohio. The Plains, actually, not too far from here. Before I joined the Bengals, I played football for Louisiana State University. Before my career ended there, I won the Heisman trophy, which is given to the best college football player of the year. And during my speech, when I was accepting the award, I talked about how so many kids and families in our state — especially where I'm from — go hungry. And they shouldn't. No one should. After my speech, football fans from around the country — the world, even — donated almost $700,000 to food banks in Ohio."

     I watched him speak through my lens, taking snapshots of his every other word, and of the timid way he smiled as the crowd clapped after his last sentence.

    "The work's not done, though. I want you guys to know there's nothing wrong with needing extra help, and I hope you're inspired to go out and help other people too, in any way that you can. Sometimes a smile and a simple 'How are you?' Can really make or break someone's day. I know that when my teammates are down, they count on me to keep morale up, and they would do the same if they saw me feeling discouraged. Don't forget to be there for one another."

     A valuable lesson for the little kids in the crowd, I thought. Kindness and teamwork was one hell of a platform, especially days away from the Super Bowl. I took my attention away from Burrow when a couple of parents standing on the outside leaned into each other, listening to him as he captivated the whole room. I took their photo. I had a feeling they were no longer starstruck by Burrow; simply just looking into the way he bared his soul as he sat in a pretzel amongst kids he probably didn't feel too different from. They were hearing it from their very own quarterback themselves that they could do anything as long as they showed compassion toward one another.

     Burrow's speech ended with a roar of applause that shot me back into reality; I didn't realize I had been watching him diligently through my lens but not pressing the shutter button on my camera. I did, however, feel something cold prick my left cheek. I pulled my camera away. Only when I reached up to touch my cheek did I recognize that I shed a tear. I quickly wiped it away with my sleeve, brows knitted in confusion, looking around and ready to deny it in case anyone had seen. Lucky for me there was an NFL superstar across the room that was occupying everyone's attention.

     After a brief question and answer portion with the group, Burrow led everyone back out to the lobby of the library, where a crew from the food bank had set up a U-shape layout of tables stacked with food. Patrons not a part of the group were making their way from one side of the U to the other, collecting items in a medium-sized box that either they or a volunteer were carrying. Burrow made quick work of joining the volunteers who walked alongside some of the older patrons, carrying and filling up an elderly woman's box for her.