Jason Taylor visited the hospital a few days before Christmas with his wife and three kids. They brought a lot of toys for kids with cancer, burn victims, children with deformities. Taylor's children didn't want to leave, they were having so much fun playing, connecting, giving -- unwrapping, in other words, Dad's real and lasting gifts. Later that night, over prayer, his kids thanked each of the children they met by name, and damn if that didn't just about make the tough, old football player cry. It can make you emotional, getting old. Appreciative, too.

Looking back -- something he has done a lot over the last few weeks, ever since he decided this new year would mark the beginning of the end of football -- Taylor realized this: All those blessings that surrounded him in that hospital, he didn't have any of them upon arriving in Miami as a scared, skinny kid. The wife? She is the sister of Zach Thomas, his brother in more way than one. The children? All born and raised here. Everything Taylor believes in now -- family, faith and football, all of it intertwined in something not unlike a huddle -- has been nourished and grown here. His gratitude, his platform, everything that makes him who he is. Miami isn't just the home of his Foundation. It is the home of his foundation.

Giving back

He attempts to give back, raising almost $3 million for poor kids, sending 35 single-parent kids to college with all expenses paid, but he knows his is a debt that'll never really get repaid. It is something his mentor Marino taught him, one of so many things, and Marino has an entire hospital for children in his name. The most amazing part of what we are celebrating today? In what is otherwise a meaningless football game? It isn't that, in an era of unprecedented player movement, at a time when the Dolphins have changed coaches, owners and even stadium names multiple times during Taylor's career, South Florida got to watch Taylor grow from kid to man like parents at a graduation. No, it is the ital:kind:ital of man we have watched him grow into, someone for whom you want to cheer, after coming from a childhood background so broken and painful that he doesn't like discussing its details and it can bring him to tears if the questions get too close.

The thing that makes Taylor feel proudest? There's a library to go through after a decade and a half in the sport. He's the best defender the Dolphins have ever had. He's scored more touchdowns than anyone to ever play his position. He was the NFL's Defensive Player Of The Year once and finished second another year. He'd be a first-ballot Hall of Famer, and in the best-ever discussion, if he'd had exactly the same career in New England. But proudest?

Being Named NFL Man Of The Year for his charitable works helping giving kids opportunities, education and a path.

"It overshadows everything," he says. "I know how much it helped me when I was a kid -- that someone helped, that someone cared. This game provides you power. Impact lives. Make days. It takes five seconds. Shake a hand. Give a football. I don't take that for granted. I can't."

‘i’ll be emotional’

Today should feel really good. Gratitude always does. In sports, very few get to choose their own ending, as even legends like Bobby Bowden and Joe Paterno learned. For players, the uniform usually gets taken from you before you get a chance to give it back, confidence the last thing to go, the mirror the last thing to know. You know the most fun former safety John Lynch ever had playing football? It wasn't winning a championship in Tampa, believe it or not, and it wasn't any of the nine years he went to the Pro Bowl. It was in a preseason game, as a Patriot. You don't remember him as a Patriot? That's because he never played a regular-season game for New England. Bill Belichick told Lynch that he had made the team, but Lynch knew he had nothing left. So all he asked for at the end was to play the entire final exhibition game. And there he was, in the fourth quarter, playing against nobodies, blitzing on every down, ignoring the play calls and a lifetime of regimen as Belichick laughed from the sideline.

"I will be playing football as a kid again," Taylor says of today. "It'll be emotional. I'm going to try to hold it together the best I can."

He has been on a snap count all year because of his age and has been allowed to sit out practices, too. But he has asked coaches to let him play every down today, and they have agreed.

"I don't want to come out," he says. "I want every last drop. I want to soak in every detail. I want to come out only if I'm tired."

Jason, you aren't going to get too tired to come out.

"Damn right I'm not," he says.

There are things he won't miss about football, of course. Training camps. The dirty business side of the game. And all the losing. But days like today, there is nothing to replace them in the silence of retirement.

"I'm at peace," Taylor says. "It is an honor to go out like this in Miami."

The honor, watching a lost and scared kid grow into a pillar of a man, has been ours.