I have a confession. I love football. I know, it’s weird, right? The whole attraction started when Bryce was a student athletic trainer with his high school football team. I figured that I might want to know what the hell was going on since I had a kid on the field. It was like a foreign language.
My Dad and I spent a lot of time at college basketball games of his Alma mater, so I basked in knowing the ins and outs of that game. Color me surprised, when he announced, out of the blue, that football was his favorite sport. WHAT? I couldn’t fathom how anyone could be passionate about men trying to kill each other over an odd-shaped ball.
Yesterday, as we cheered on WKU, and watched our youngest rock his job as a student athletic trainer, I was impressing myself with my football knowledge. I was shouting out “pass interference”, “holding” in an effort to help the referees. They need all the help they can get. My excitement might have been smothered by our neighbor, who likes to critique the cheerleaders when we celebrate a first down. He actually screams at them about it. These are the times I am repulsed by humans. He sits next to Brian and chats with him like they are long-lost friends. Better him than me. Bailey laughs and says, “Look, Dad’s best friend is here.” I roll my eyes.
Now, don’t get crazy, I am not invested enough to paint my face or get a tattoo. I am just passionate enough to yell a lot and get super annoyed when refs make bad calls. And, it is possible that my passion is fueled by talk of WKU possibly going to a bowl game. I mean, we had to bring Bryce’s passport with us yesterday, since one of the possibilities might be the Bahamas.
While I might be more knowledgeable and I get a little jazzed while the game is going on, I still have a hard time following the ball. Sometimes I sit there and wonder what is happening, but my spouse is always great about letting me in on the latest play. It’s progress not perfection.
My enthusiasm might waiver once Bryce graduates, but for now, I would like to think of myself as a true football fan minus the “burning at the stake” mentality when the team doesn’t deliver a win. I have limits to my passion.