I don't know where Matt Witulski went, but somebody took him. He was a neighbor kid. Lived right up the street. Once a month, I'd call him: "Matt, can you babysit Saturday?"
Sure he could. Matt was free. He was 13 years old. We're all free when we're 13. As free as we'll ever be.
Matt brought alternative rock CDs to play for my 8-year-old. He brought NBA Jam for the Sega. He was this adolescent, slightly round, pleasant, smiling child. All that's left is the pleasant and smiling.
Maybe you didn't notice Matt Witulski was just named an honorable mention all-state lineman, from St. Xavier High. I did. I noticed. I nearly fell out of my chair.
I called him the other day. When Matt was 13, he was maybe 5-foot-5 and 130 pounds. That seems like, oh, six months ago. Now, Matt is 17. He's 6-3, 290. He practically has to walk sideways to fit through the front door.
When I'd pick him up to watch my kids, Matt fit nicely into my Honda. Now, I couldn't stuff him in there with Crisco and a battering ram.
It's here; it's gone
Time flies, you say?
No. Time does not fly. Time steals. Time moves with the wings of a rocket. One day, a little kid is thanking you for the
$9 you gave him to babysit. The next day -- and I swear, it was the next day -- he's 6-3, 290 and you're checking a calendar to make sure a year is still 365 days and not, you know, a week and a half.
Life is too good to be so fast. Life should not move like Deion Sanders, scoring from first base on a single. Life should be Willie Anderson running the Boston Marathon.
The Bombers play Canton McKinley on Saturday night for the state Division I football title. Matt plays right tackle. Next year, he will play football somewhere, perhaps at Harvard or Yale. Each is interested in a 4.0 student who is also a National Merit Scholar semifinalist.
Of course, the way time moves, by next year Matt will be running a large, multinational corporation.
Enjoy this, Bombers.
Enjoy today and tomorrow, win or lose, like you've never enjoyed anything. Soak it all up. The rest of your lives may be as good as they are right now. They won't be the same.
"We've all started shaking hands," Matt says. After practice, all week. Seniors, shaking hands. "Last Monday practice," they will say to each other. "Last Tuesday practice."
"It's crazy," he says. "A lot of the stuff that just seemed so tough, now it seems like fun. Like lifting (weights) after practice. We hated that. Now we're still doing it, even though it has no effect on how we'll play Saturday."
It is good that something so fleeting can provide such lasting lessons. It is the beauty of our games. Says Matt's mother Bettiann: "There are qualities I've seen in Matt no amount of classroom education could have given him. Self-discipline. Leadership. He's a better person because he's learned to care about his teammates."
They play Saturday in Massillon, some for the last time, and it may only now be occurring to them that time is
precious and a thief. It occurs to Matt, wise beyond his days.
"Even if we win, it's sad that it's over," he says. He started playing football six years ago, when he had to lose 15 pounds to qualify for his CYO team. He has been to 600 practices; Bettiann figures she made 210 trips in the car to and from St. X, until Matt started driving himself last year.
So much time. Where'd it go? "If I had my way, we'd play year-round, forever," Matt says.
He speeds through time faster than he knows. "Winning the GCL, that hasn't even sunk in yet," he says. "None of this will hit me until long after the season."
What I'm thinking is, "Yeah, Matt. It'll be years. Enjoy it now. Enjoy it all."
What I say is, "So, does this mean you can't babysit Saturday night?"
Enquirer columnist Paul Daugherty welcomes your comments at 768-8454.
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