When our family moved into the neighborhood next to the local high school some 16 years ago, we started attending the football games because it just seemed to be the thing to do living, literally, four doors down from the campus.
Over the years this Friday night ritual has had its highs and lows but most importantly it has acted as a window into a part of the fabric of America. That slice of Americana where families gather together for a few hours to sing the National Anthem, eat snacks from the booster run snack bar, watch the marching band get better with each passing week, catch up on neighborhood gossip, let the little kids play in the open space down by the end zone, provide a place for the junior high kids to practice their socialization and, oh, watch football.
When I think of how in towns and cities from coast to coast, border to border millions of Americans all participate in this fall season of parking lot tailgating, homecoming and if you are lucky, the playoffs. It is easy to see how special this ten to twelve week season of the school year is.
We all gather to cheer on the boys as they execute their playbook under the guiding hands of their coaches. Watching them grow up and mature with each passing season. We sometimes shake our heads and mumble, “what was the coach thinking” when WE can’t see the sense of a particular play. And we all feel the hair rise on the back of your necks when the men in strips seem to get flag happy every time our team has their hands on the ball. We pray each time a player doesn’t bounce up after a play and watch the staff rush to their side to assess the damage to such a young body. Most often they do get up to the sound of all fans clapping, shake it off and get back at it . Oh, the resiliency of youth!
The Spirit Line, with their high-pitched unison voices, trying their best to get the crowd of town folk to join in, as they make every effort to elevate the energy level of the evening. And it is interesting to see the girls facial expressions gain confidence with each passing week of being lifted high above the other girls on one leg being held upright by their teammates. The fear of falling seems to lessen with each game.
And then there is the Marching Band. Our school, over the years has had several band directors who have each put their own unique stamp on halftime shows that, like the football team, had its good years and not so good years. But even when the numbers were down and the drill maybe not so complex, there still is that feel good factor that is visible on the parents faces as they watch their freshmen son or daughter step off for the first time. As a parent who had that personal experience, I can tell you, I wondered if our oldest would be able to do all that fancy footwork, marching backwards, sideways and every other which way, all the time keeping that horn facing forward and remembering the music and not messing up. Well, when the Drum Major gave that first cue he was off and I was amazed and proud. It was a Football Friday memory for me. The first of many to come.
The season is short and before you know it you are at Senior night when we see the senior players, cheerleaders and band members walk onto the field with their families and friends in tow. For the football players they know that this will probably be their last time to play football as the caliber of talent to play at the next level is a bar set beyond the abilities of most all your average high school football players. It is much the same for the cheerleaders and band members too. But never the less, the memories they make during these years will be memories that stick with them most vividly for the rest of their lives.
Then in future years you watch those graduates return to sit in the stands to watch and cheer on their younger siblings. And later to return with their small children to dream, will my son be that star athlete, the one to run that kickoff back one hundred yards for the game winning touchdown. Will a daughter follow in the footsteps of their Mom and make that Senior Spirit Line? And will our son or daughter be the one to go from the high school field to the college campus and march in a really big band?
All are questions that only history will answer. But last night I sat through another Senior night and the line was long with students moving on to that next level. Their parents were no less proud as those who have made that walk with their child before them. We won the game, 61-7 against an 0 and 9 team that was scratching and clawing to get that one touchdown. Our last game of this fall season, and it is finally fall in Arizona, is an away game. I’m confident that the stadium we go to next week where we are the visitors, will have the same feel to it, that same energy, same spirit. A little different maybe, but at its root another one of the threads of life that make up the fabric of America.
It is that whole interplay between the players, band, spirit line, children, parents, teachers and administrators creating a kaleidoscope of colors, textures and emotions that combined in four quarters of excitement or boredum depending on the opposition and their determination to smash the home team and dash those hopes for a state title. Yes, that is Friday Football in America and I love it.
Well, next Monday is my birthday, #61, and I have been employed about 5 months. I still am amazed that I was out of work for so long, only to be humbled and brought back to the reality of our countries current condition where millions are still seeking a way to put food on the table and a roof over their heads.
This is the one year anniversary of “The Unexpected Journeys of an Ordinary Man” and I can’t believe how the time has flown by.
I am blessed in so many ways and have so much to be thankful for. I am thankful for you, the readers, for your support and encouragement. Many of you are my former co-workers and to you I wish you every success as your company goes through the struggle of two becoming one. Sounds like a marriage in a strange sort of way.
If this post seems a bit rambly…please forgive.
….the journey continues….
Richard
