It's no secret that high school football is almost a religion in Texas. We love our Friday night lights in these parts. My boy played football for six years while he was in junior high and high school. He had a ball and so did my whole family.
It's funny, but when we were filling out his schedule of classes for 7th grade, he stated that he didn't want to play football. My beloved and I told him that he had to give it a try and if he didn't like it, he didn't have to play in 8th grade. But, he couldn't quit -- he had to complete his 7th grade season. We were just afraid that all of his friends would play and if he didn't, he would regret it. And, if he didn't start out with everyone else in 7th grade, that he would be a year behind.
My boy was apprehensive and skeptical about it, but a bunch of his friends were going to play and he agreed to give it a try. Well . . . let me tell you that after the very first day of practice, this boy was HOOKED! And, when he finally got to don pads and actually hit somebody . . . he was in 7th Heaven. He came home from practice every day saying things like, "Mama, you should have seen it, I blew so-and-so up today!" And, "I tore so-and-so up!" This from a kid that used to be afraid that he would hurt himself all of the time.
At first, my boy's size worked to his advantage. He was at least a head taller than most of the other boys and outweighed them by a good bit. But, by the time he was in high school, it was his skill and dedication that made him successful. He attended Speed Camps every summer (a camp that teaches conditioning and how to run well) and he worked hard in the weight room all year. He drank protein shakes and ate peanut butter sandwiches and anything that was loaded with protein. This boy was serious. And it paid off.
At the end of his sophomore season, he was brought up to Varsity for the playoffs. He never got to play on Varsity that year, but he practiced his behind off. Then his junior year he got to play at least a little in almost every game, earning his letter jacket. Then came his senior season. He ended up moving from right guard to center and was a starter for every game. To say he had a blast is an understatement.
The interesting thing is that the rest of my family also had a blast. We went to every game, home and away. Most games, my boy had his very own cheering section. Parents, sister, grandparents, aunts, uncles, great aunts and uncles, great grandmother, cousins. You name it.
Also, my girl and I got involved with the Tiger Moms -- the other moms of Varsity football players. We met in the locker room every Thursday night before a game and decorated the locker room. Banners, streamers, posters, balloons, inspirational cards/notes and snack bags. We moms and sisters had an incredible time. What memories.
The games were so much fun, also. As a mom in the stands, my heart broke for my boy when they lost a game. But, my heart burst with love, pride and excitement when my boy had a triumph. A lot of people asked me if I worried about him getting hurt. Honestly, I really didn't worry about it until his senior season. He hurt his ankle in practice before the season started and for brief overnight period, we thought it was broken. We were in mourning that night. It just made me and my beloved sick to think that our boy had worked so hard from 7th grade on to make it to his senior season and now it looked as if he may not get to play. As it turned out, though, his ankle was not broken, only badly sprained. He wore very big braces on both ankles and managed to make it all season. However, I did hold my breath every time he ended up on the ground.
It's been three years since my boy last played and we still miss it. We still go to a couple of home games a season, but, alas, it's not the same. I know that my boy will remember those times very fondly for the rest of his life. And so will I.
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