I am not a Sporty Spice. Other than a short span as a Jr. High cheerleader (and by short I mean the entire squad was disbanded after cheering at only 2 or 3 games- something about uniforms) I’ve never participated in any school sponsored, intermural or community-based team sport. I was for many years the team manager of the boys’ basketball team (a brilliant move by which I was REQUIRED to attend all games, rode the bus with the boys and never broke a sweat!) and I still love to watch basketball at all levels, but football was never my thing.
But now it’s football season.
In Texas.
And I have three children in public school, where the fight song is better drilled than the multiplication tables.
I don’t understand football. I don’t know the rules, understand the positions or recognize the players. And before someone offers to educate me, let me just say that honestly, I don’t want to know. I love basketball and I enjoy baseball and that’s enough sportiness for me.
What I do understand about football is that while church and civic organizations may direct social activity in our little town for the majority of the year, attending football games are about all the social connection you’re gonna get around here for the next few months. So, while I’m no more a Social Spice than a Sporty Spice, the kids and I will probably be attending most of the home games.
I don’t know what to do with myself at football games. It’s already been established that I don’t watch football and I never seem to be sitting near people I know well enough to carry on two and a half hours’ worth of conversation. I don’t know what to do with my kids at football games either. It seems that most everyone else’s kids are running around completely unsupervised, but I’ve never been comfortable with that. Yet the whole point of me taking the kids to the games is for all of us to be more social. I wish someone would give me a copy of the playbook- the social playbook, not the football playbook.
At least thanks to the head coach’s wife’s new football blog Stampede Alley, I can tell who’s a coach and who’s just standing there yelling.
Bring on the lap blankets.
And the hot chocolate.
It’s football season.