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The firefighter worked in 24-hour shifts. Every time he was dispatched to a call that involved a baby or a little boy, Lt. John Watt would get on the phone afterward and ask his wife, Connie, to put their newborn son on the phone. If the baby was sleeping, John would ask Connie to wake him up. He just needed to hear his child laugh, cry or even breathe, so he could feel better and finish his shift. The request did not always go over well with a sleep-deprived new mother, but she'd dutifully wake the boy and press the phone to his face.

Even then, the ritual seemed ridiculous. How can you worry about a Mack Truck? Long before J.J. Watt was destroying quarterbacks, before his leviathan arms were slapping down passes and redefining what a defensive lineman can do, he was wreaking havoc on Connie. He grew so big in her womb that people assumed she was having twins. She cried at least once when someone asked her that. J.J. was her first, and she had no frame of reference for what a son should be.

Twenty-one hours of labor and the kid just wouldn't come out. The doctor finally reached in and broke the baby's collarbone so Justin James Watt -- all 9 pounds, 14 ounces and 22 inches of him -- could slide into the world. "My husband would go to the nursery to get him, and he didn't have to show any ID," Connie says now. "John is 6-4, and J.J. took up the entire incubator."

Even before J.J. was born, John Watt had a very clear picture of what a father should be. Some people, he told Connie, want to be their kid's friend. He intended to be a parent. The Waukesha Fire Department was 10 minutes from the Watt home in Pewaukee, Wis., which meant that John was always close. He did not demand perfection from J.J. -- or later from J.J.'s two younger brothers -- as much as he instructed him to try his best to be perfect.

He used to say the same line to his boys over and over again: "Act like somebody." On days when he wasn't working, John saw J.J. off to elementary school; as the boy walked out the door in the morning, his father would make him repeat the line.

"Act like who?" John would ask.

"Somebody."





When J.J. Watt was a boy, his father, John Watt, challenged him to "act like somebody today." Courtesy of the Watt family

On an October afternoon in Houston, John Watt is in town to watch his son play some football. In the Texans' 11-year history, they've never beaten Baltimore, but on this given Sunday, Houston crushes the Ravens 43-13. As he has in so many games in the past year and a half, Watt gets his massive hands on the play that changes the game. With Houston up 9-3 early, the defensive end tips a pass from Ravens quarterback Joe Flacco. Cornerback Johnathan Joseph catches the deflection and returns the pick 52 yards for a touchdown. Baltimore never seriously challenges for the rest of the day.