Growing up in Bloomington, Minn., I loved the ritual of dressing for Little League - in white socks, blue stirrups, belted pants, a double-knit jersey, and the cap I'd hold over my face to screen out mosquitoes in right field.

I had started writing for 'Sports Illustrated,' which was really my dream job growing up. But the writing probably read like I was auditioning to write for 'Letterman' or '70s-era Carson.

With the exception of undertakers, athletes are the only professionals obliged to feign sorrow on a daily basis, pretending that every June baseball loss is a tragedy requiring library silence in the clubhouse.

The first words Rebecca Lobo ever spoke to me when we met in a Manhattan bar in 2001 were, 'Aren't you the guy who just mocked women's basketball in 'Sports Illustrated'?' I blushed, broke out in a flop sweat and said, 'Yes.'

I got put into leadership roles very early in life from fifth grade, sixth grade. I always ended up being the quarterback or the leader of the sports teams, and it's kind of benefiting me now.

I always said I was good football player, I'm fine as an actor, but I'm a great dad.

I've lived most people's dream by playing football.

Competition is all in numbers; it's a numbers game, but I looked at it like it's a passion, and it's art.