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BOILING SPRINGS, N.C. -- LaQuincy Rideau scored 17 points and Tyrell Nelson and David Efianayi each tallied 15 points, leading Gardner-Webb past Hampton 69-63 on Wednesday night.Gardner Webb (5-4) has now won three straight and five of its last six games.Rideaus jumper gave Gardner-Webb a 57-47 lead with 5:03 to play. Kalin Fisher later made a 3 to bring the Pirates to within 63-58 with 1:25 remaining. The Bulldogs sealed the game from the free throw line.Earlier, Fishers layup with 7:26 to play cut the Pirates deficit to 50-45, but Hampton couldnt get closer than five in the second half.The Bulldogs led 29-22 at halftime.The score was tied at 6 when Gardner-Webb went on a 15-6 run and took control of the game. Hamptons 16 turnovers led to 12 points for the Bulldogs.Lawrence Cooks led Hampton with 17 points and AJ Astroth scored 16 points and registered a career-high 15 rebounds. Cullen Gillaspia Youth Jersey . 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The second one, Sam, is 8 years old and a jock. I dont think he can read.Charley has autism. Im not sure if all kids with autism are the same (probably not, because no two kids with autism are the same), but Charley doesnt understand sports. I mean, he understands that in soccer, for instance, the object of the game is to put the ball in the other teams net. But Charley doesnt understand why anyone would play sports, and he really doesnt understand why anybody would bother watching other people play them.Im always a little flummoxed when he asks me to explain it. There isnt much of an answer except: Its fun. Sports are fun, Charley, I say, and he looks at me with pity and hands me another book to read him as though he has to show me what Ive been missing.Sam knows that Charley is a little different, but he thinks Charley has something called optimism, and Ive never had the heart to correct him. Sam doesnt just understand sports. Sam was born believing in sports the way Charley believes in books and everything in them. Charley believes in dragons and ghosts and fairies. Sam believes in keeping score.The only toy I can remember him playing with, at least with any regularity, was a ball. I have pictures of us playing soccer together when he wasnt yet 2. (He sucked. I crushed him.) Golf entered the picture, then baseball, then hockey, then basketball. Im pretty relieved that he doesnt seem to like football, but I expect thats just a matter of time. I caught him watching darts the other day.He is a natural athlete, and when he isnt playing sports, he wants to watch them or talk about them or, worst comes to worst, think about them. He has an enormous head, both literally and egotistically, and I swear its because there are so many sports and he cant stop thinking about them all and how great he is at whichever one he decides to play in that moment.That has led to a different strain of parental flummoxing.Because I love sports, too, and its so easy to play catch with your kid or coach his soccer team or take him to the driving range and pretend youre the father of the year. Sports parenting is the cheapest kind of parenting, because its not really parenting at all. Its like being a kid again and your best friend is this other kid who you love more than anything. Its perfection.But there is so much more to life than sports. I know that. Charley knows that. The trouble is, those other things arent dragons and ghosts and fairies. They are hard and complicated and sad and real. More and more the world seems like a place that isnt much fun anymore, and its especially not much fuun for grownups.ddddddddddddSo here is what Ive decided to do, as the flummoxed father of simple sons. Im going to read books to Charley, as many as I can. And Im going to watch sports with Sam, as many as I can.On Saturday, we woke up and turned on the TV to watch Liverpool, Sams team, dismantle Hull in the English Premier League. Then we drove into Toronto with some friends, and I took him to his first professional soccer game: Toronto FC against the Philadelphia Union.It was, to be kind, some garbage football, but Sam was open-mouthed most of the time. He couldnt get over the thrill of the grass, or the view from our seats of the lake, or how far the goalies could kick the ball in real life. Toronto scored a nice goal semi-late to tie it, and Sam jumped up so high that he missed the ground on his way back down and fell into the seat in front of him.Then, because this life is just the purest sort of blessing and still works out beautifully sometimes if we let it, we caught a train one minute after that game ended that took us back downtown, where Canada was playing Russia in the World Cup of Hockey at the Air Canada Centre. It was Sams first hockey game, too.We were in our seats seconds after the opening faceoff, and the first hockey goal Sam ever saw in the flesh was Sidney Crosbys steal and finish to give Canada the lead, 1-0. It happened less than 100 feet in front of his wide eyes, and his arms shot up as though hed been electrocuted. Then we ate popcorn and watched Canada go on to win.This is the funnest day ever, Sam said toward the end of it, and it was everything I could do to keep my chest from caving in.Now Im sitting in the dark, listening to him snore in the hotel bed beside me. His head barely fits on the pillow. Charley is at home with his mother, dreaming under the pile of books that he uses as a blanket.I used to think it was my job as a parent to show my boys the world, to introduce them to every last one of its wonders, to make the planet and its possibilities seem as big as possible. Ive come to think its up to them to find that out on their own. My job, when they find something they love, is to tell them that their love is wise and justified, and I love those things, too, and Id love to do those things with them for as long as they will let