Another Mother’s Day has come and gone， and I have not followed through on my promise of a Cadillac. Since I was young， I have read about how athletes， the ink barely dry on their multi-million-dollar contracts， buy their mothers shiny 1)Cadillacs so they can “cruise to the games” 2)in style. So， long ago， I promised mama that one day， when I made it to the big leagues， she too would get her own Cadillacs. She would always laugh and talk about how ridiculous she would look rolling by in a candy-paint 3)Coupe De Ville. She never mentioned how ludicrous it was to imagine her 4)scrawny， slow-footed son playing pro ball.

My mother has taught me many things over my 22 years， but there are two for which I will be forever grateful. One was to read. The other was that I wasn’t going to be the next Michael Jordan.

One slow dog of a day in mid-August of my sixth summer， after she had grown tired of listening to me whine about how I wanted a Super 5)Nintendo like the rest of my friends， she retrieved a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird and placed it on the table in front of me.

“We don’t play video games here，” she told me. “We read. That book will keep you company. You can never be bored when you have a book.”

“I’ll do anything but read，” I replied boldly.

“Then you can go play outside，” she replied calmly. “Those are your two options.”

Enraged as only a six-year-old 6)hellion can be， I turned defiantly and ran out the back door into the triple-digit heat and humidity stewing in our back yard.

I returned a few hours later， after two dozen laps around the block， 300 jump shots and a half-hour of tossing the football to myself. Too exhausted to gripe about how I wanted to play Tetris， I grabbed the tattered hardcover book that my mother had placed in front of the sofa.

As soon as I read about Jem’s 7)affinity for passing and 8)punting， my fears were assuaged. I read on. I did not stop until one long summer had ended， a fall had taken its place， and Boo Radley had come out.

I had learned to love to read.

The subscription to 9)Sports Illustrated followed later that year on my birthday. My mother knew her firstborn was sports-crazed before I could even tell her in words. She suspected as much when， at 18 months， I lined up my stuffed animals in the 10)wishbone offense. But I doubt she envisioned the obsession that would grow over the coming years. I read every page—the stories of spoiled， overpaid underachievers and the sagas of 11)gritty， hard-fought success; the accounts of thrilling overtime upsets and heartbreaking collapses on the back nine. When I wasn’t reading SI， I was 12)honing my skills， certain that one day I would grace its cover.

It must have been hard for my mother that day—after making sure Santa brought me the football uniforms I had asked for each Christmas， after watching me re-create

13)Super Bowls in the front yard every day after school， after addressing and stamping all those 14)illegible letters I wrote to the University of Texas football coaches telling them how to do their job—to tell me that I wasn’t going to be a pro football player. It must have been hard for her to tell the awkward， freckle-faced first grader the truth.

“You weren’t made to be a great athlete，” she told me. “You weren’t born big enough or fast enough to play football. If you want to play， you’re going to have to work really hard at it.”

I took her words and ran with them. And lifted weights. And rehabbed injuries. And lifted. And ran some more. I wasn’t 15)Rudy， but I was damn close.

My mother is the kind of person who can’t tell you how the 16)Redskins did last night. She can’t even tell you what they were trying to accomplish. But， from early 17)Pop Warner Saturday mornings to lazy 18)Little League afternoons to Friday night’s bright lights， she never missed a game. Were it not for her telling me the truth that day， I would have never seen the field.

I should have thanked her after every 19)touchdown I ever scored in high school. I should have run up into the stands and hugged her with each jump shot that fell through the net. I should have thanked her after every track meet and 20)rugby match and baseball game.

I should thank her every time I reach the end of a great book. I should thank her every Thursday when I race home to pluck my Sports Illustrated from the mail slot. She gave me all of this.

My mother gave me a perspective that allowed me to see why and the ability to articulate that passion. For that， I owe her more than a gleaming 21)Escalade， more than a dream house， more anything else I can possibly give back.

又一個(gè)母親節(jié)匆匆過(guò)去了，我還是沒(méi)能實(shí)現(xiàn)買(mǎi)一輛凱迪拉克的承諾。從小我就讀過(guò)許多關(guān)于運(yùn)動(dòng)員的文章，他們剛簽完幾百萬(wàn)美元的合同，轉(zhuǎn)身就給媽媽買(mǎi)輛嶄新的凱迪拉克，這樣，媽媽就可以風(fēng)光地開(kāi)車(chē)去現(xiàn)場(chǎng)助陣了。所以，很久以前，我就向媽媽許諾，當(dāng)我也進(jìn)入大型球隊(duì)的那一天，我也給她買(mǎi)一輛凱迪拉克。她總會(huì)笑著說(shuō)，如果她在大街上開(kāi)一輛糖果色的凱迪拉克威樂(lè)，看上去一定會(huì)很滑稽?？墒牵龔膩?lái)沒(méi)有說(shuō)過(guò)，想象一下自己那個(gè)骨瘦如柴、磨磨蹭蹭的兒子打職業(yè)賽的場(chǎng)面，就會(huì)覺(jué)得滑稽可笑。

在過(guò)去的22年里，媽媽教會(huì)了我很多事情，其中最讓我感激不盡的兩件事是：一是教我喜歡上閱讀，二是使我懂得自己永遠(yuǎn)成為不了第二個(gè)邁克爾#8226;喬丹。

我6歲那年的八月中旬，在某個(gè)漫長(zhǎng)的一天里，我向媽媽哭鬧著要她給我買(mǎi)一部超級(jí)任天堂游戲機(jī)，因?yàn)槲宜械呐笥讯既耸忠徊?，最后她?shí)在受不了了，就找出一本小說(shuō)《殺死一只知更鳥(niǎo)》，放在我前面的桌子上。

“我們家不玩游戲機(jī)，”她對(duì)我說(shuō)，“我們讀書(shū)。那本書(shū)就是你的伙伴。只要手上有一本書(shū)，你就不會(huì)覺(jué)得無(wú)聊?！?/p>

“干什么都好，我就是不讀書(shū)！”我粗魯?shù)鼗卮稹?/p>

“那么你就出去玩吧，”她鎮(zhèn)定地回答，“你只有這兩個(gè)選擇?！?/p>

當(dāng)時(shí)只有6歲的我還是個(gè)淘氣鬼，聽(tīng)完媽媽的話后，我生氣極了，叛逆地轉(zhuǎn)身從后門(mén)跑了出去，那時(shí)外面的溫度超過(guò)了37度（編者注：攝氏37度相當(dāng)于華氏99度，這里三位數(shù)的溫度是指超過(guò)了37攝氏度），溽熱的空氣在后院彌散。

我繞著街區(qū)跑了24圈，跳起投籃300下，拋接橄欖球30分鐘，就這樣一直玩了幾個(gè)小時(shí)才回家。我已經(jīng)累得沒(méi)力氣抱怨多么想玩俄羅斯方塊了，于是拿起媽媽放在沙發(fā)前面的封皮破舊的精裝版小說(shuō)讀了起來(lái)。

當(dāng)我讀到杰姆很喜歡帶球過(guò)人和踢懸空球的時(shí)候，我的煩躁感減弱了。我讀啊讀，一直讀到漫漫長(zhǎng)夏結(jié)束，秋天慢慢來(lái)臨，讀到書(shū)中的另一個(gè)主角布#8226;拉德力出場(chǎng)。

我喜歡上了閱讀。

那一年年底我生日的時(shí)候，我家開(kāi)始訂閱《體育畫(huà)報(bào)》。在我還不會(huì)說(shuō)話之前，媽媽就知道自己的大兒子是一個(gè)超級(jí)體育迷。因?yàn)樵谖?8個(gè)月大時(shí)，居然把毛絨動(dòng)物玩具排成了Y字形的進(jìn)攻陣型。但是我懷疑，這種在之后多年不斷高漲的體育熱情，最初是不是她自己想象出來(lái)的?！扼w育畫(huà)報(bào)》的每一頁(yè)我都認(rèn)真閱讀——被溺愛(ài)的孩子的故事、零用錢(qián)過(guò)多的學(xué)校差生的故事、通過(guò)堅(jiān)忍不拔和不懈努力而換來(lái)成功的傳奇故事，還有關(guān)于經(jīng)過(guò)長(zhǎng)時(shí)間的激烈比拼卻在最后九個(gè)洞傷心落敗的敘述。沒(méi)有讀《體育畫(huà)報(bào)》的時(shí)候，我就磨練技術(shù)，信心十足地認(rèn)為總有一天自己也可以風(fēng)風(fēng)光光地登上雜志封面。

當(dāng)媽媽“確認(rèn)”那些我每年圣誕節(jié)都許愿想要的球服的確都是圣誕老人送的時(shí)候；當(dāng)媽媽看著我每天放學(xué)后都在前院模仿打超級(jí)杯球賽的時(shí)候；當(dāng)我多次向德克薩斯州大學(xué)的橄欖球教練寫(xiě)信，歪歪斜斜地寫(xiě)道他們應(yīng)該怎樣教好球員，然后媽媽替我寫(xiě)上地址和貼上郵票的時(shí)候；當(dāng)媽媽告訴我我不是職業(yè)橄欖球員的料的時(shí)候，她一定非常難過(guò)。對(duì)媽媽來(lái)說(shuō)，把真相告訴這么一個(gè)笨手笨腳、滿臉雀斑的一年級(jí)小學(xué)生，肯定很痛苦。

“你天生就不具備做一個(gè)優(yōu)秀運(yùn)動(dòng)員的資質(zhì)，”她告訴我，“你天生個(gè)頭不夠大，速度不夠快，所以不適合打橄欖球。如果你真想打橄欖球，那你就真的要在那方面下苦功了?！?/p>

我聽(tīng)取了她的意見(jiàn)，每次跑步的時(shí)候都銘記于心。我還練習(xí)舉重。受傷后積極恢復(fù)傷患。然后繼續(xù)舉重。再增加跑步鍛煉。我不是電影《追夢(mèng)赤子心》里的魯?shù)?，但是我下的苦功絕對(duì)不比他少。

即使看了昨天晚上的球賽，媽媽也說(shuō)不出華盛頓印第安人的表現(xiàn)怎樣，甚至說(shuō)不出他們的目標(biāo)是什么，她就是這樣的人。然而，從每個(gè)星期六早上開(kāi)賽的早期的波普#8226;華納少年橄欖球賽，到下午讓人懶洋洋的少年棒球聯(lián)賽，再到星期五晚上的大型賽事（編者注：文中的“l(fā)azy”描述的是“媽媽”看球賽時(shí)的狀態(tài)，“bright lights”指晚上進(jìn)行的賽事）她每場(chǎng)必看。如果那天她沒(méi)有告訴我事實(shí)真相，我就不可能成為球員。

高中時(shí)的每次達(dá)陣得分，我都應(yīng)該好好感謝她。每次跳射入網(wǎng)后，我都應(yīng)該跑到觀眾席給她一個(gè)擁抱。每次田徑運(yùn)動(dòng)會(huì)后，每次橄欖球賽后，每次棒球賽后，我都應(yīng)該衷心感謝她。

每次我讀完一本偉大的著作，我要感謝她。每個(gè)星期四我跑回家迫不及待地從信箱里抽出《體育畫(huà)報(bào)》時(shí)，我要感謝她。是她給予了我這一切。

媽媽教會(huì)了我洞察事情緣由，和表達(dá)對(duì)體育的熱忱的能力。所以，我欠她的遠(yuǎn)不止一輛嶄新的凱迪拉克凱雷德，或者一座理想的房子，我欠她的今生今世都無(wú)法償還。