Football, My Love

I looked out my window this past week and noticed the oak tree outside my home was sporting not one or two but three leaves that had changed from summer green to September red.  Instinctively I knew what this could mean. Not global warming or signs of an early winter…but that FOOTBALL season is here! 

I don’t want to scare off the male readers from this article.  I’m not a fair weather fan who jumped on the football band wagon when the Patriots won their first, second or third Superbowl.  I genuinely love the sport and enjoy watching NFL games on Sundays.  I’ve been watching the Patriots since the early 80’s.  I remember Tony Eason and Steve Grogan being our QB’s.  My uncle had a photo taken with John Hannah displayed in his living room and I thought it was the coolest photograph ever.  I recall being crushed when the Patriots were dominated by the Bears and their stupid “Superbowl Shuffle”.  I am sure that I wasn’t alone in my sheer disbelief when the Patriots couldn’t come up with the win against the Jets at home last January. 

My faith in the team was strong and I was confident we were going to beat that loud mouth and his J-E-T-S, but the outcome was different then what I’d envisioned. 

 When my son was old enough I plopped him in front of the TV with us on Sunday afternoons to watch the Patriots.  All too often however, I’d watch him quickly lose interest and wander off.  I dressed him in Patriots team jersey’s and tried again the following Sunday but to no avail.  He would inevitably leave to play with toys or watch cartoons in another room.  

This crushed me to witness, and it became my duty to ensure he LOVES football as much as I do.  A few weeks ago I took my kids to an outdoor practice at the Patriots camp during a hot day.  I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but at times I forgot my children were seated beside me.   I was watching my favorite team practice against each other. I remember attending the AFC Championship game at Sullivan Stadium.  It was the last time the Patriots played there.  What a great game that was and what an amazing team this is going to be I thought, as I peered at Coach Belichick from the distance swinging his whistle back and forth.  Unfortunately, while I was feeling enthusiastic and excited, my son was feeling hot and fatigued, begging to go home.  

My family returned the following week to the in-stadium practice on a beautiful August night.  The crowd and I were thrilled to be there.  My children weren’t as delighted.  I waved to Tom Brady as if he could spot me and wave back at any moment.  I took pictures of the defensive linemen and showed the pictures to my son but he didn’t care.  I turned to my husband visibly upset.  How could a sport that I love and look forward to every fall, not be a passion of my child’s?  I want him to watch the games with us on Sunday afternoons and high five us when we get a TD.  I saw families with children younger than my boy who were engrossed in the game.  My husband tried to assuage me and told me to enjoy the time and forget my son’s lack of enthusiasm. 

My husband and I sat back and tried to enjoy the remainder of the evening.  As we headed to our car that night I promised myself I wouldn’t give up.  Our family would come back next year for the practices and enjoy Sunday games together. 

 I pray this is a sport he’ll watch and will grow to love, like my husband and I do.  And hopefully these practices are something he’ll remember fondly as he gets older.  Maybe he will share these experiences with his family, recalling the times his parents took him to see the greatest team ever. We all have a team or sport that we adore as children into adulthood and hope to pass on to our legacy.  I just hope I haven’t scared off my boy and turned him into a football hater or worse off…a JETS fan!