Excuse me. I have been remiss.

It has been brought to my attention that I have yet to write about one of the most important aspects of end of summer.

Football.

A few weeks ago my family and I traveled to Kansas City to attend the first varsity game of the new season for our hometown Owls. It was quite a trip for me for several reasons.

The day was August 31st, my father's 77th birthday. Since my parents live in Kansas City, they were able to attend the game with us, and we had a great visit.

In addition, the game was being played at what used to be East High School, the very field where my own Northeast Vikings played all of their home games. It was quite a sentimental journey: standing for the playing of a scratchy recording of the national anthem (I'm not lying -- it was the same in 1975), sitting in the stands watching the players take the field, hearing the cheers of the cheerleaders, being reminded countless times that he concession stand was serving the very best of a variety of stadium-type treats.

It was also a special evening for another reason.

Some of the young men who roamed the sidelines and eventually made it into the fray were players we've watched on the gridiron since second grade when they played in the Salt Fork YMCA sponsored flag football league.

I'm sure they must have felt a great deal of pride as they ran onto the field and felt that first rush of adrenaline that flows through you when you realize that you're playing Friday night football under the lights; that all of the work has been worth it; that this is what you trained for and practiced for and sacrificed for.

And it has been a long road for most of them. Evening practices for Saturday morning games at the "Y" or at an unfriendly field some 30 miles away; short seasons during middle school and finally making the freshman team; and then struggling to get noticed by the high school coaches.

But with the help of dedicated coaches, mostly volunteers from the community who took the time to develop those young flag-football superstars into youth league warriors before handing them off to school-based programs, these young men became disciplined athletes ready to leave it all on the field each and every week.

That's what you dream about when you're a young football player. That's what all the work and pain prepare you for.

Autumn Friday nights under stadium lights.

I'm extremely proud of every one of those young people who started with a dream in first or second grade and struggled through all that brought them to that football field in east Kansas City on the evening of August 31st, 2007.

Gentlemen, the field is yours.