I’ve always been a huge non-fan of sports, especially football. It makes no sense to me, and I’ve never even wanted it to. (And don't get me started on "student athletes" in our college systems.) My husband tells everyone that I root for the clock. And how long are those football minutes anyway?
But gradually over the last two months, football is starting to get to me. Does it have something to do with this guy?
He’s seven (and a half!) and lives for playing tackle football. Saturday morning was his first game at 9:00 am. He was quite giddy when he went to bed the night before, just squealing with delight that seven year old boys can still do.
He was so excited, he was out of bed by 4:30 am. Fortunately he went to Rachael’s room first, but landed in our room just before 5:00 am. Mike finally asked him at 5:30 if he would like to go downstairs and watch some football. A loud yes (as in finally, something) and he jumped out of our bed and went downstairs with dad for the next two hours before he had to leave.
I’ve never seen this kid have so much energy. He played the entire game. His team, the Saints, lost by mere inches really, 13-7. Even in defeat, you couldn’t stop the smile! He is already looking forward to next Saturday.
On the way home he matter of factly announced that when he is grown, he will play in the Super Bowl. And I know at least one fan who will do everything she can to help him get there.
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