JFIFC    $ &%# #"(-90(*6+"#2D26;=@@@&0FKE>J9?@=C  =)#)==================================================4K" }!1AQa"q2#BR$3br %&'()*456789:CDEFGHIJSTUVWXYZcdefghijstuvwxyz w!1AQaq"2B #3Rbr $4%&'()*56789:CDEFGHIJSTUVWXYZcdefghijstuvwxyz ?+=ºeƙo$[;k_"gGzs3Ix{{nQS.0 -? -ꩥ hsJ9}>ۊfo쎻=˸I-ʉTx׉|;#]iW?4H[A9ڽN9Vy姁4]i!]K#a{$G/\n^> ;zc pt +1ϘpƵ/?:O|*SC?*H:@zWnoq04 H+g;}Ã?Xv4_1dRUãB9g]$Vf8 |llwZ{;V!thMҬtQJŘgo1$Ol"fѡ9$;-'=%hZ) 0 Zm-mI;b('IaU? aLzz{^rS[YY [Xa}@>?oh"k2ʾ+4YFT,ݸ:c$iA8@FqGg*r߅|aoek<Ž#Fy()`^֏@oQ֏@oSI<"Mw f|EgokqVɲ4^^֏@oP<3ߡZѩnja1Eb(((ootball. My coaches kept me off the field. They would criticize me in front of the team by saying things like,  You re too small to play football.  Collelouri has the best arm on the team, too bad he s not 6-2. Or,  Hey, Tommy, I m going to buy you some growing pills to take during the off season. I remember going home every day and crying in my room. It felt like someone was taking away from me what I loved most, football. That s when my Grandpa Mario would call. He called every day to see how practice had gone.<br>Whenever my Dad told me Grandpa was on the phone, I would wipe my tears away and try to stop myself from hyperventilating because I thought it was unmanly to cry and I didn t want to disappoint him. Then I would put the phone to my ear and hear Grandpa say,  Hey Butch! How was your day, Buddy? <br>Grandpa would always reply by saying,  Don t worry about it