Responsibility is taught from a very young age. It's the gradual introduction of the weight of your actions in the lives of others.

In Kevin's upbringing, the gradualism component was somewhat broken — it hit like a truck, with all those expectations that he had no way of failing to live up to, hammered into his little head. Then came the responsibility for his close ones, for the team, and the very expectations he was one step away from failing. And Kevin had always handled it well — he thought that he did and confidently convinced himself of it. Even if the liquid pouring from the neck of the bottle into his mouth stung, it always got things back on track, back to where he was coping.

Kevin realized too late that this treatment was actually a curse — when he stopped running. And no one told him that changing old habits is much harder than starting the right ones in the first place.

Trying pays off though — really pays off, that's what he thinks now as he looks at everything he has. He doesn't need anyone else's opinion or number to know how valuable. Patience is a virtue, and your patience has let him know he's number one. Not in the whole world, maybe, but in your life for sure.

And now in your child's life too. The way those little eyes shine when Kevin lifts your son in his arms — wows him, more precious than any prize. But knowing he's an example to this little man sometimes makes his hands shake. What if he fails again, because years of sobriety is no guarantee? He's not someone to really look up to.

“What if I'm putting too much pressure on him?” He asks, and no matter how much Kevin braves it, the fear in his voice trembles. “I mean, I'd be happy if he kept playing, but sometimes I feel like I'm,” he stammers, tightening his lips and glancing around the backyard. His son is out there, fiddling with a ball and rackets because he wants to be like Dad. Kevin is flattered and terrified at the same time. “Acting like his coach, not his dad,”