Our Glen Rose Tigers closed out their 2025 season Friday night after a hard-fought, bruising battle against Seminole. When the clock hit zero, the senior class of 2026 tried, truly tried, to choke back their tears in front of the Glen Rose faithful. But some moments are too heavy for even the strongest young men, and this was one of them. This group… these seniors… they are some of the finest young men I have ever had the privilege to be around. They are knowledgeable, classy, humble, and among the hardest workers you could ever hope to meet. It feels like just yesterday they were running around on the pee-wee fields, helmets too big for their heads and dreams too big to measure. Time has a cruel way of slipping through our fingers, an unrelenting thief that steals moments and leaves only memories behind. And yet, what remarkable memories they’ve given us. To the seniors—Chase, Ryder, Caden, Patton, Ollie, Nicholas, Anthony, Gavyn, Kaden, John, Kayleb, Gage, Braxtin, and Tyson—you’ve done more than just play football. I’ve watched you grow up. I’ve watched you mature. I’ve watched you go from wild kids to good young men. I’ve laughed with you, yelled at you, encouraged you… and yes, I’ve even wanted to throat punch a few of you a time or two. But in the end, I love you guys. A lot of you have hung out at the house, chilled in the living room, raided the pantry, and left your shoes everywhere. You’re the ones who turned ordinary days into memories. And for the record, to the unfortunate lineman I accidentally hit with a Roman candle. (I’m still sorry about that. Mostly.) We parents like to talk about how we mold our boys into great men. But somewhere along the way, if we’re paying attention, we realize something else, our boys mold us, too. They make us better. They challenge us, teach us patience, remind us of what matters, and fill our lives with purpose. I will never forget what you seniors have done for me, not just as players, not just as friends of my son, but as young men who changed me in ways you may never fully understand. Each of you will go on to great things, whether it’s chasing college ambitions, continuing to play the sport you love, starting families, or forging your own paths. You are a piece of me, a piece of this town, and although we all knew this chapter would eventually close, no matter how quickly you rip off the bandage, it still hurts. Thank you for a season that defined what true adversity looks like. Thank you for your leadership, your grit, your heart, and for setting the tone for the years to come. The next era of Glen Rose football will be shaped by the example you leave behind; your work ethic, your unity, your refusal to quit. A special thank you to my own son, Gage “Dougie” Douglas. Your relentless work ethic has shattered the norm. You’ve shown that greatness isn’t built on talent alone but on the hours no one sees; the late nights at the gym after practice when your body begged for rest but your heart demanded more. I pray the younger Tigers have noticed. I pray it inspires a culture unlike anything Glen Rose has ever seen. To the underclassmen, the shoes to fill are enormous, but so are your opportunities. You are the next ones to run out of the tunnel, to stand shoulder to shoulder with your brothers, to write the future of Glen Rose football. And I have no doubt you’ll rise to the challenge. I hope our community can pull a little closer in the coming seasons. I’m going to stay off my soapbox about livestreaming and how it’s quietly draining the lifeblood of Friday Night Lights. I’ll spare the ruffled feathers, for now. Let’s just say… I miss the 90s. To our coaches, thank you. Truly. Most people never see the late nights, the sacrifices, the countless hours poured into these boys. What you do goes far beyond X’s and O’s. You aren’t just building athletes, you’re building men. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for loving my son, and for loving all of these boys. What you pour into them will echo long after the lights dim. This year, I watched a little harder. I soaked in the tunnel antics a little more. The inside jokes, the nervous energy, the moments most will never see. Through the ugly and the funny, the gritty and the beautiful, one thing stood out above everything else: brotherhood. The same brotherhood I’ve watched grow for years among these seniors. And so, to the parents….slow down. We all say “I’m glad it’s over” at some point in our children’s sport-life. We all get tired of long practices, endless drives, chaotic schedules. But in the blink of an eye, it will be over. And you will break in ways you didn’t expect. You will find yourself wishing for one more quarter, one more snap, one more sweaty helmet-to-shoulder hug. You’ll long for one more “I’m proud of you, son.” Whether your boy is in junior high or already a junior in high school, it hits faster than you think. And when it does, you’ll stand there holding nothing but memories. So cherish every moment. Notice every play. Encourage more and criticize less. For them, it’s a game. For us, it’s a season of life that passes too quickly. Take a breath. Look your son in the eyes. Tell him, with everything you’ve got, just how proud you are. Because sooner than you realize, the lights will shut off, the pads will come off, and the season of football in his life, and yours, will end. And you’ll wish for just one more Friday night.