TEars draw others in, not push them away

​I'm a Notre Dame football fan. That traces all the way back to the days I was a Catholic child listening to the priest announce Notre Dame football scores during the Sunday morning Mass. Way back when word of mouth held more power and traveled much slower than a Facebook post.

My fandom only intensified when I played a few of years of high school football under coach Jon Rockne, the grandson of the famous Notre Dame coach Knute Rockne.

The heartbeat of my love for college football definitely starts with the Fighting Irish. I wonder sometimes if the blood it pumps is green. But yesterday I was reminded that even though my football heart starts beating in South Bend, it doesn't end there.

Yesterday, Notre Dame experienced one of it's most unexpected and devastating (in fan perspective) losses I can remember. They were coming off one of their biggest wins in years last week, and were facing what was projected to be an inferior team at home this week in Northern Illinois.

But, projections often aren't worth much. The betting experts predicted Notre Dame would win by more than 28 points, they ended up losing by 2. That's a projection gone astray by more than 30 points.

As the clock expired, I sat in my chair staring at the television. No words. Until there were tears.

Only the tears weren't mine.

The tears were flowing from Northern Illinois coach Thomas Hammock. He'd previously played for Northern Illinois. He'd made no secrets since leaving as a player that his dream was to come back and coach the team. The story goes that he communicated frequently with school administrators how badly he wanted that job. And then in 2019, he got it.

There he stood, five years after getting his dream job, trying to express what it meant to lead a team to victory that was bigger than anything he ever could have dreamed.

There he stood, sobbing over his words.

And there I sat, completely moved by his sobbing, completely joyful over this man's story. That's not the same as happy that he'd just beaten Notre Dame, but sometimes another's joy is the quickest way to our own healing perspective.

Frequently when I write and speak and teach, I suggest that men have been robbed of an opportunity to cry in our culture. They've been denied by their upbringings and by cultural expectations and stereotypes. And there's a lot of evidence to suggest that's a really unhealthy thing.

It's unhealthy for men as individuals and for relationships that include them.

As I sat and watched this man sob on national television, I felt the power tears hold in expressing one's true self. I felt the power tears hold in demonstrating authenticity. I felt the power that tears have to draw someone in and not push them away like too many men fear tears will do.

I felt the permission being granted to so many other men and young boys to be who they truly are, especially if who they are feels like crying.

I'll never forget where I was when Northern Illinois beat Notre Dame. Sitting there in my chair with my boys in a moment of disbelief. And I'll never forget sitting there with my two boys, watching a grown man cry on national television, and reminding them, sometimes big boys cry.

Sometimes big boys cry. I think sometimes they should feel the freedom to do it a little more.