It was a rare day off in the middle of a hectic season, and Davante Adams—one of the best wide receivers in the NFL—wasn’t catching passes or breaking tackles today. Instead, he was walking through the gates of Disneyland in Anaheim, California, wearing a black hoodie, joggers, and sunglasses. But even with the hoodie and shades, a few fans still whispered and pointed when they recognized him. Today, though, he wasn’t Davante Adams the NFL star. He was just “Dad.”

Beside him walked his wife, Devanne, effortlessly beautiful in a matching sweatsuit and sneakers, pushing their youngest daughter, Dezi, in a stroller. Meanwhile, their older daughter Daija held tightly onto her dad’s hand, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Okay, first ride—what are we doing?” Devanne asked, already glancing at the map and the app on her phone.

“Teacups!” Daija shouted without hesitation.

“Nah, not the teacups,” Davante said with a dramatic groan. “I’m tryna stay upright today.”

Devanne laughed. “You can dodge cornerbacks, but a spinning teacup throws you off?”

“That’s different! At least I know where they’re comin’ from,” he said, scooping Daija up and tossing her in the air, catching her as she squealed.

The family spent the day moving from ride to ride—It’s a Small World, Dumbo, Buzz Lightyear, and even Space Mountain, where Devanne screamed louder than anyone else. They snacked on churros, shared Mickey-shaped pretzels, and took dozens of pictures—Daija throwing up peace signs, Dezi drooling happily in her stroller, and Davante grinning wide with his girls on either side of him.

By sunset, the lights of the castle shimmered as the fireworks began, and Devanne leaned her head against Davante’s shoulder while Daija rested sleepily in his lap.

“Not gonna lie,” he said quietly to his wife, “I’ve played in front of millions, but this? This is top-tier.”

Devanne smiled. “You’re not just a superstar on the field. You’re our superstar off it, too.”