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It's an old story: the pro athlete who dreams of one day becoming a kid. And for a lucky few, that dream comes true. Peter Forsberg of the Colorado Avalanche endured a splenectomy, then a joy-ectomy, while spending a year away from hockey. So when he skated again for the first time last spring—didn't play, didn't practice, simply skated, on a suburban Denver rink usually wreathed by eight-year-olds—he said, happily, after stepping off the ice, "I felt like a kid out there." As a kid—turning lazy laps at open skating while Mantovani plays on the P.A.—you aspire to NHL stardom. It never occurs to you that an NHL star might long to be in your skates, invariably laced too tight by your father. When Jeff Torborg became manager of the Florida Marlins this season, he spoke of being delivered from the booth after an exile in broadcasting. "It was an unbelievable feeling to go back out in the sunlight," he said during spring training. "I mean, the smell of the grass and the leather on the glove—I felt like a kid again." Until the game is taken away from them, like a toy from a recalcitrant child, athletes forget that it is, at its best, exactly that: a toy, or blanket, or board game—an instant evocation of childhood. Some never forget it. After making the playoffs last October, Cleveland Indians lefthander C.C. Sabathia said, "I felt like a little kid, when my mom took me to Toys 'R' Us." Of his team making the playoffs last January, New England Patriots linebacker Roman Phifer said, "I felt like a little kid who waited a long time and finally got that gift he always wanted." Kids, you will never feel more big league than you do right now in Little League . You will never feel more Kurt Warner than you do right now in Pop Warner . Trust us. Professional athletes spend entire careers chasing down, like a ball to the gap, precisely what you have at this moment. When Detroit Tigers rookie Brandon Inge hit his first major league home run this season, he said, "I felt like a kid playing his first Little League game, I was so happy to be in there." It doesn't get bigger than Little League . So while your kid is turning the driveway into RFK Stadium , professional stars are turning RFK Stadium into your driveway. "Oh, it was fun," said Steve Ralston , the New England Revolution midfielder, of a game-winning goal after a thunderstorm in Washington this summer. "I felt like a little kid, running around in the puddles." Think the NBA is fun? You'd rather be a kid than Jason Kidd , a child than Chris Childs . Honest. There is scarcely a bigger star in the last century of sport than Jack Nicklaus . Yet when a brief respite from back pain allowed him to play in a tournament last April, two weeks after missing the Masters, Nicklaus said, "I felt like a kid in a candy store. I told Barb"—his wife—"to grab her bags and leave your worries at home: We're going to play golf." It isn't just the innocence of childhood that sports can recapture but its insecurities, too. Days after winning the U.S. Open last month, Serena Williams met sumo grand champion Takanohana, of whom she is a great admirer. "I felt like a kid standing next to Takanohana," she said, speaking not just of stature but of emotions. "I wanted to ask him for his autograph, but...." The top-ranked tennis player in the world chickened out.
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