Football. It is an American fascination. Nay, an obsession for a lot of people. For me? Not so much. I have never been able to understand how people get so worked up over a sport, any sport, nor have I ever really… liked… most sports. GASP! I know. Shocking!
The other day, while I was out walking/running as part of my morning sacred ritual, I came down over a hill and glanced to my left. The hill borders a high school that is nestled in a ravine below. Until that morning, the parking lot and fields of the property had been vacant. This morning, though, there were numerous cars lined up neatly in rows and on the white-lined green acre of the football field, there were bodies. At both end zones, coaches were pacing as their players went through the motions of warming up and doing drills.
I heard a thought rumble through my system… when did I stop watching for this to happen?
In a flash, I went through a tumbling series of images, memories of what football has meant to me throughout the years…
It once meant nothing to me; I had no concept of it because I grew up in a house with a father who had no love for the sport and cared not one whit about who was playing, where, or when. We never watched it in my childhood home, not even the Super Bowl until I was late in my teens. Probably because football was on television Sunday and Monday nights and those nights were reserved for church-related “entertainment.”
There was a time that I began to have an awareness of football. It was right around the time that I entered junior high and the boys started talking about little league football. My brother started playing soccer in his youth and so I became familiar with soccer, but he never was drawn to football.
Football developed an emotional meaning for me in high school because I was dating the captain of the football team. I still had no idea what the rules were, how it was played, or why, but he loved it. I remember the experience of seeing him walk out of the locker room all geared up on the first evening he invited me to watch them at a practice game. He grinned broadly when he saw me standing there, but he didn’t allow my presence to divert his attention. With a nod in my direction and a wink, he moved forward with his team, called them to a huddle, and I was promptly forgotten. But, BOY! His recognition in that brief second was enough to keep me riveted, even though I had no idea what was going on while I watched the boys racing up and down the grass, slamming into one another, and chasing after this oddly shaped ball. The one thing I did admire, though, was the fact that this sport held his undivided attention and it seemed that it did for all the players. It was impressive!
From there, football became a part of my life, as did all school-related sports, because I was interested in the boys who were playing the sports. I still knew nothing that was going on on the field and court, or in the pool, but I was entranced because the boys were loving it. They lit up when they played; it was something very real for them, something emotional. Much like dancing was for me.
In my senior year, I became interwoven with football because I was on drill team and we entertained at all the home games’ halftimes. We also traveled with the team so that they would have fans in the stands. We’d show up in our lettermen jackets and matching outfits at the “away” school to be harassed by the “home” students, but I loved it. There was a great amount of pride in showing up in our school colors. It felt purposeful. And even though I only barely understood the game being played on the field, I loved the experience of being at the game. People watching has always been my thing and being at football games was a fantastic place to people watch.
After high school, I went to a community college that didn’t have a football team, but I was then familiar enough with it that I would watch snippets of it on television. When I got married, he was a fanatic about football and watched it every chance he got. He had played football from the moment he was old enough to and had excelled at it. He loved watching football and I still didn’t get it, but watching him was delightful!
Recently, though, as I paused to watch them doing burpees and tire runs on that distant field, I realized I had stopped watching for the players to take their positions late in the summer in preparation for the school year. The first helmeted heads and padded bodies had once signaled to me that summer was closing. But now, I am no longer noticing.
Standing there, I smiled as I felt all the ways football has shown up in my world. Even though I have never been emotionally attached to the game, football has had an importance in my life. It has continually shown up for me and I have remained curious as to what purpose it is here to serve for me.
I found my own way to connect to the sport and did so strongly enough that I now sorta understand the rules and can actually watch an entire game on television and it doesn’t even have to be the Super Bowl. I love going to games in person for the same reason I did when I was younger: all the people there are vastly entertaining!
Because I chose to continue to show up for something that was showing up for me, I learned enough about it to understand it. I developed a fondness for it that is strong enough to allow me to experience it without being grumpy these days. And I learned that it is pretty fun when I allow myself to just enjoy it in the way that *I* can enjoy it.
As with all things in life, the way you choose to look at things is the way you experience them. You can choose to continue to believe something is stupid, boring, and a drudgery OR you can shift into curiosity and wonder how you can connect in your own way. When you choose the latter, magic happens.
