In the span of five minutes, I saw two University of Oklahoma coaches -- one a legend, the other a newbie -- at a local grocery store in Norman on Sunday.

As I moved from the produce section to Albertson's conventional aisles, there was 69-year-old Barry Switzer pushing a cart like any other old man in central Oklahoma.

Five minutes later, I saw current OU basketball coach Jeff Capel and his wife -- both obviously dressed for church (she was gorgeous) -- rushing through the store to pick up a few staples before Sunday lunch. The 32-year-old Capel looked absolutely lost, I think, searching for a 12-pack of caffeine-free Diet Coke.

Switzer looked like he had just bitten hard on a lemon.

Capel looked like he would rather be anywhere else than in a grocery store right that second. His Cadillac Escalade had the look of a desert roamer in need of a bath, which isn't uncommon to most vehicles in this part of the Sooner State after two winter weekends in the past 10 days. I felt a sense of overworked camaraderie with the coach, knowing that neither one of us has the time to keep our cars clean.

I can't begin to imagine the amount of pressure on a college coach. Sure, there's plenty of perks; however, eyes are on you all the time. Everybody wants a piece of you. Everybody has a criticism.

Is it worth it to make $1M a year? Is it worth it to be ultra-popular?

I don't think so. To be the head coach of an OU sports team is about the last thing I'd ever want to do. No freakin' thanks.

However, teaching young people how to play a sport and, hopefully, build character has never been my talent, my gift if you will.

And, I wondered on Sunday whether big-time coaches or, frankly, anybody else famous and rich looked upon their vocation as being in line with their God-given gifts. While not nearly as dramatic as the gifts introduced to us by characters on NBC's hit show, Heroes, which returned Monday night from a two-month hiatus, our gifts deserve the attention and cultivation this collection of list-dwellers offers theirs.

"What you can do. What I can do. That is God. Respect their calling," the Haitian told the cheerleader.

Claire Bennet feels like she has been abandoned. Her "father" has wiped the memories of several of the cheerleader's classmates and is under the impression that her memory, particularly the knowledge of her gift, is no more, too.

She feels alone, yet the Haitian can only advise her that she isn't and that she should respect her gift. Her abilities are above her feelings.

There is a philosophical, spiritual undercurrent to Heroes that fascinates me greatly. Monday night's highly anticipated return of NBC's new cult hit was quite short on details but long on that brand of heavy thinking that won over so many people last fall.

The essence of Monday night's episode was that these gifts were bigger than the individuals to whom they belonged, causing some to behave irrationally. Not that rationality is Hiro Nakamura's strong suit, yet his theft of what turned out to be a bogus sword while having only a fraction of his time-stopping power let us relive a bit of the celebratory excitement we had when Hiro first teleported himself to New York City from Japan.

He did it! Again!

Well, almost. Tonight's primary developments were that Hiro met up with both Isaac Mendez and Nathan Petrelli at the same time, a new hero was introduced (an invisible man) and that plans were initiated to get our new television friends to Las Vegas, home to a man with the ability to blow himself and an entire city to smithereens.

Yet, the story's progression, to me, is secondary to its philosophical undercurrent. For me. Maybe not for you.

The grand question is: What spiritual, moral, personal obligation do we have to respect our gifts? To develop them? To use them?

Personally, I believe we are spiritually, morally and personally obligated to not waste our talents. How one defines talent and identifies them in individuals will differ based on a billion different factors in a billion different cultures.

We're required, I think, at an individual level to hold ourselves accountable for how we manage those gifts. We're fools to waste them; however, I find it hard to believe I would enjoy being forced to use them under the pressure our Heroes face.