Football

Am I ready for some football???  That's the question I wasn't sure I was prepared to answer at 7:30 this morning, getting ready to leave the house at 8 for a 9:00 game.  Did I mention this is Saturday, and I'm not known to arise before 10:00 on Saturday mornings?  And, did I mention it was actually two back-to-back games I was in store for?

I've never been much of a football fan.  I always thought it was slow paced, the rules were confusing and I didn't know the difference between a down and a clown.  The last time I can remember sitting in the stands at a football game was in high school.  And, even then I was usually just there to keep friends in the marching band company or to hang with some guy I was kinda-sorta-maybe dating at the time (I was not into labels and very hard to get.)  My dad also coached my brother on a city league when he was young, but all I recall of that experience was sitting with my mom and sisters in the car to keep warm and fighting over which radio station to listen to.  But, I love my older sister's boys and was excited to finally see them in action. 

First up was my seven-year-old nephew.  His game was very comical.  There was a random kid dancing in place on the field.  Another watching the geese fly overhead.  One kid got the ball and ran the other way with it, losing us about 15 yards.  (He knew which goal to be heading for.  But, he also knew there were overly-padded beasts waiting for him in that direction.) Not to mention the tiny adorable cheerleaders who were cheering anything but in unison and had no idea what was going on in the game behind them. (This was proven many times by them rah rah-ing when the other team scored. And, chanting "Look at the scoreboard!  Yeah, look at the scoreboard!" when the other team was ahead by two touchdowns.)

Eight girls, eight different routines.

But my guy, who they've nicknamed "The Crusher", was impressive with his tackling skills.  He may not do much with the ball if he ever get his hands on it (Oops.  I wasn't going to mention who that was running the wrong way down the field) but, if the other team touches that ball, he's off and charging after them.  I should have been able to predict his sacking skills seeing that, as scrawny as he seems, he manages to knock my middle-aged butt to the ground almost every time I see him! "Crusher" seems very fitting.

Little buddy after getting tackled by his own teammate.

The ten-year old's game was less comical/more brutal.  Alot of helmet clanking, piles of six kids on top of one and the announcer calling out "Injury on the field!" every other play.  My nephew plays center, putting him right in the center of all of that clanking and piling up.  Both teams in this age group were on their game, so from the stands it just looked like a cluster of red and black moving up and down the field.  It was hard to tell who had the ball and what exactly was going on. Who's got the ball now?  Is our guy in that pile? "Injury on the field!" Again?  My main concern was seeing that #27 was upright again by the end of each play.

As much as I was hesitant about an entire day of football (and even though I caught myself sleeping with my eyes open for about 5 minutes there) I found myself screaming and cheering for our victories and moaning and demanding "Get him! GET HIM!!" when the other team ran off with the ball.  I was actually sad to see the clock run down on the fourth quarter of the last game.  They were two touchdowns behind and there was no time to possibly catch up, but I wanted our guy to have a winning day.  Was I actually enjoying this?

Well, I can't say I'm going to start watching Monday Night Football, or Sunday games on TV... but when it's little guys I love out there getting dirty, that's something I can become a fan of!  (I am also a big supporter of the four hour nap that succeeded.)