As many know, I served four years in the United States Marine Corps – so I always watch the Army-Navy game with interest. It gives me a chance to talk some fun trash with my older brother, who was in the Army, and to reflect on some truly great times.

As I was watching yesterday, I was transported back to that time for two reasons. The first was a memory of serving alongside a member of the 1983 Navy football team. Lieutenant Nelson stood around six-foot-four and probably weighed 250 pounds by the time he arrived at our unit in 29 Palms. He took immense pride in having won the Army-Navy game as a senior before answering the call to serve his country. I remember countless conversations with him about how he balanced studies and football, marveling at the discipline it took. Talking to him often reminded me of my younger self, and yesterday, I was 19 again—carrying those same ambitions, standing in awe of what was possible with hard work.

The second reason was that the game brought me back to a simpler time in college football. Don’t worry—I’m not about to ‘boomer up’ with an “in my day” spiel about how the past was better. Truth is, I enjoy a lot of the changes college football has embraced—most of them, anyway. But for a few hours, I got to watch the game without worrying about what else was happening in the world. It reminded me of what football could be: just moments to enjoy, stripped of the noise.

As the game unfolded, I couldn’t help but think about those players—like Lieutenant Nelson—who balance the extraordinary demands of military service with their love for football. For them, it’s not just about the game. It’s about the lessons it teaches and how those lessons carry into the rest of their lives. Leadership, discipline, resilience—those aren’t just buzzwords for athletes. For these men, they’re tools for survival, on and off the field.

Watching yesterday reminded me that football, at its best, mirrors life’s struggles and triumphs. It’s about teamwork, perseverance, and knowing the jersey you wear represents something bigger than yourself. For the young men playing yesterday, that game isn’t just a rivalry—it’s a declaration of character and sacrifice. And for me, it’s a bridge back to memories of camaraderie, growth, and a life defined by purpose.

I remembered playing for our base team, reflecting on the demands I placed on myself after graduation when I was playing football at Eastern Oregon. Days that started at 5 a.m. with campus lifts and film study, then rolled into classes all day long, practice from 4 to 7 p.m., and, after a brief moment to wind down, four more hours of studying. Long, grueling days—but glorious ones. We did it because we loved the game. When you’re paying your own way, it has to be love that propels you forward.

I think sometimes we lose sight of that love in today’s era of NIL deals and the transfer portal. But underneath it all, the love of the game is still there. You see it in the way players pour their blood, sweat, and tears onto the field, for their teammates and for the fans in the stands. Money may shape opportunities, but it doesn’t define the heart that beats in the game.

Maybe that’s why the Army-Navy game resonates so deeply. It’s not just a game—it’s a reminder of what football once was and, in its purest form, still is. It's about pride in the team, the brotherhood, and something larger than yourself. For a few hours every year, it strips away the noise and lets us remember why we fell in love with football in the first place. And for me, it’s a chance to reconnect—with my own past, with the game I’ve loved for so long, and with the hope that, no matter how much it changes, the soul of football will always remain the same.