I'm Still Here

Donovan, that is. With Jackson getting all the attention for his soccer exploits - really, we need to film every game? - you may be wondering: what is Donovan up to?

Well, while Jackson redefines the goalie position by running out to midfield for a "save", I spend my time at the nearby tennis courts. Wearing my best look of admiration/loneliness, I wait until one of the adults offers me one of their tennis balls to play with. Once obtained, I saunter over to the tennis practice wall with my ball and toss it against the cement blocks.

It may not sound like much fun, but it has its charms. Primarily, it draws the ladies. How can girls not be drawn to a cute, curly-haired young guy throwing a tennis ball against a wall? It's irresistible. And I'm not picky; infant girls who can barely walk, big girls three times as tall as me, girls with braces, I don't care. I love 'em all. And when I get tired of all the attention from the females, I can go find Dad for a rousing game of find-a-stick-and-pretend-to-throw-it-onto-the-soccer-field.

So Jackson can play his silly games and the parents can rent the remote truck for a 6-camera live TV broadcast of him falling down 15 times every minute, I don't care. I'm fine. All I need is a tennis ball, a wall, and some girls to shower me with attention.

Constant attention.