I interrupt my regularly scheduled walks down memory lane to ask you, my oh-so-smart blog-followers, if this makes any sense to you, what-so-ever! Every year it seems a theme floats around the football fields. Whether it’s animal prints or blingy shirts, there is always something “on trend.”
This year, everything is Peace signs. I thought it was cute when my Golden Girl brought home her Peace Sign bag for dance camp. Then I started seeing the signs everywhere. It’s Peace, Love, Cheer and Peace, Love, Dance, and Peace, Love, VolleyBall, and Peace, Love, Tiger Paws…
Cute enough, right? But then I ordered a shirt to wear in support of my son, #68. I love that boy who is racking up the tackles. I put on my Tiger Blue T’shirt that half the other moms are wearing and suddenly it occurred to me: Peace, Love, FOOTBALL? What kind of oxymoron is that?
Don’t get me wrong, I love the shirt. I can’t wait for my blingy football flip-flops to come in. But I’m wondering who in the world decided we would say “Peace, Love, FOOTBALL?”
When I see peace signs, hear the word “peace” or “peace-out” or see those 2 fingers throwing the sign, I am always reminded of psychedelic hippies with long hair and smoke rings floating around their heads.
It doesn’t exactly fit with my ideas of football! Come on y’all, this is Texas. This is where the Friday Night Lights shine the brightest.
This is where you will hear the sweetest of mama’s in the stands screaming “take him out, somebody hit him!” I have told my boy: “You better hit that guy so hard he ends up back in Thursday math class!
I wanna see helmets crashing, boys rolling, crowds screaming, and for Heaven’s sake there had better be some touchdowns on that scoreboard if you’re riding home in the car with me!
The good thing about raising 7 kids is that I have many more years to sit in the Tiger Stadium and scream til my voice gives out. I cheer for the girls cheering, and the girls dancing, and the kids marching in the band, and those boys on the field fighting for some Friday night glory. I well up with pride when the announcer says “that was #68 on the tackle” or when they say “leading the Golden Girls on the field for your half-time entertainment tonight is Blondie”.
I take tons of pictures. (Except for the days when I get to the game and discover my camera batteries have been stolen in order to revive an Xbox controller.)
And I probably have more fun that all my kids put together.
I hear Vince Lombardi shouting in my head “The real glory is being knocked to your knees and then coming back.” I wanna see my kids be tough, fight hard, and at the end of it all, Yeah, I wanna see them WIN!
Correct me if I’m wrong, but the definition of peace is a state of quiet, calm, tranquility, where everybody is at ease. That’s just not what I’m looking to see under those Friday night lights!
I’ve always thought football was the essence of being tough: working hard, never quitting, hanging in there til the last whistle blows. I believe that kids learn so much from being on a team, working together to make something happen, answering to each other, depending on each other. I think the more involved they are at school and in activities, the less likely we are to lose them to drugs, gangs, pregnancy, all that “steal your childhood” kind of stuff… I’ll drive my kids to anything to see them work at something and I will root for them win, lose or draw, but for some reason, it just never occurred to me to sit in my seat and shout “Peace”!
Is anyone else feeling me on this one? Oh well, better get my “Peace, Love, Football” shirt to the dryer, it’s Senior Night at Tiger Stadium, and that should take me back to our regularly scheduled moments of nostalgia!
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