When the pads come off, Albert Wilson keeps doing the work. Discover his and other NFL players' charitable causes in their own words at The Players' Tribune as part of a special My Cause My Cleats collaboration with NFL Media.
Growing up in the foster system can make you feel like you're living life at a disadvantage. I know because I've done it.
I was in Florida's foster system twice -- for a year starting when I was six, and then for six years starting when I was 12.
My girlfriend asks me all the time how I dealt with spending so much time in foster care. And I always tell her that I just didn't know there was any other way. To me, all of it -- foster care, my parents being in jail, moving from house to house to house to house -- was normal.
And you know what? I was lucky.
Some foster kids don't know their parents. Some have parents who want nothing to do with them. And some have already lost their parents. Mine were in jail, but they were both still part of my life. They helped raise me -- I talked with them regularly on the phone or through the mail.
This allowed us to have a unique relationship. It was like I could tell them anything. I also learned from them their example very early on. People make mistakes -- and there are consequences for those mistakes.
I was also lucky because of two amazing foster families: the Baileys and the Browns.
I went to live with the Baileys when I was in the 10th grade. They had eight children, all adopted. Two of them, Josh and Chelsea, were right around my age, and over time I grew so close to them that I began calling them my brother and sister. We did all the small, silly things siblings do.
Back then I was rocking some really long hair, and Chelsea would braid it. I'd sit on the carpet while she sat above me on the couch and braid my hair. That was one of my favorite things -- simple, but meaningful. It made me feel like I was at home.
The Baileys were my family. Their house was a place I felt safe -- even happy. They showed me a side of family I hadn't seen before, one where everyone was living at the same pace -- and in the same place.
With the Baileys, an adult was always waiting for us at home whenever we got back from school. And there was structure to life. We had to get our homework done before we could do anything else. We all watched TV together and ate meals together. It wasn-t picture-perfect, but at least we all seemed to be living in the same time zone.
Then there were the Browns.
One of my best friends in high school was a kid named Moe Brown. I had spent the night at his house a bunch of times and grown pretty close to his family. One winter break his mom, Sherri, who knew my situation, invited me to go to Orlando with the whole family for Moe's younger brother's soccer tournament. I immediately agreed.
Two days before we left, Moe and I were coming back from the grocery store when he started talking about South Carolina.
I said, "Dude, you've never been to South Carolina, you don't know nothing about it."
"Boy, my whole family is from Maysville," he said.
My eyes widened. Maysville is a really, really small town where everybody knows everybody. My dad's entire family is from Maysville.
I told Moe, and he started rattling off the names of people he knew, including members of his family. Some of those names were really familiar, because they were also the names of members of my family.
Wait a second. If your cousins are my cousins, too, that means... .
Yup. The Browns were my cousins. I'd had family right by me all along, I just didn't know it.
To read the rest of Albert Wilson's first person account, visit The Players' Tribune.
