My boy is everything a wonderful 7 year old boy should be. I know I am biased, but he is cute and charming, rough and tough, silly and fun and has the attention span of a mentally retarded knat. This shortened attention span coupled with his exceptional stamina make his involvement with sports not an option but utterly necessary if we are to retain any sanity as his parents. As we have traveled down the road of organized sports with our son, there have been a few bumps along the way. We have tried almost every sport with him and while he likes them all none of them have captured his heart and therefore he doesn't stick with them very long. Baseball was a trial on all of our patience. There is just to much time hanging out for him...remember, very short attention span. Swimming was great to wear him out, but going back and forth in a pool for an hour every day bored him to the the point of hatred. Soccer is fun for him but the sport requires skills and that dreaded ability to pay attention. We are rapidly running out of options except the one option we have been resisting for years...football.
Football is not my son's sport. I have told myself this for at least 2 years now as he has begged me to sign him up season after season. He is my baby boy and I just can't bring myself to put him in the middle of a field and watch him become the target of a well placed tackle. He will get hurt. This is not a guess or prediction, this is a fact. The other fact, the one that has probably stopped me more than anything else from signing him up, he will hurt someone. You see, even though I can say out loud that football is not my son's sport, I know in my hearts of hearts that it is and at some point of his football career he is going to probably dominate.
You see, for my boy, life is a full contact sport and always has been. In fact, one of my tactics for not signing him up for football before was because it was a flag football league. When I explained how it would work my boy was disgusted and disappointed that they would consider having a football game without tackling. "What's the point, Mom?" Apparently, that argument has ceased to exist because while they won't let a 6 year old play tackle football, reaching the magical age of 7 is all it takes to be able to successfully beat the living crap out of someone and call it sport! It is eerily reminiscent to the days of Gladiators and true blood sports.
My little Gladiator happily took to the field a few weeks ago and has never been happier. I begrudgingly admit that he is doing well, having fun and even learning about the game. He wants to make his Coach happy and although he has no idea yet who the running back is, he tackles every kid in his field of vision until his coach rewards him with a hit on his helmet and a "good tackle". They practice for 2 hours a night, 3 nights a week and let me tell you, it is cold! As the "football" parent (because my husband is across town sitting on a pool deck for 2 1/2 hours 5 nights a week) the consolation of enduring the long cold evening is the sheer entertainment factor these little gladiators provide. Just imagine a group of little boys, most of them not even weighing 50 pounds soaking wet, running around with 10 pound ginormous helmets on their heads and no pads. It's like watching Revenge of the Bobble Heads.
But these Bobble Heads are fierce and they are coming together rather nicely. They can successfully tackle each other, sack the quarterback (as soon as they figure out which one he is) and even make some pass completions. Of course, for many the simple fact of successfully catching the ball is a little overwhelming which essentially stops any further forward motion on the play. They run around like mad men, do push ups, high knees, and various other drills in their quest for greatness. They are going to be unstoppable when they hit the field against an opposing bobble head team when the time comes!
So begrudgingly but proudly I can now say I am a football mom. I sit on the sideline and root for my little boy to pummel the crap out of other kids. I have given him permission to "knock him down until he can't get back up again". He is committed to staying in the game no matter what. Just last night he came home with blood on his jersey and he was a little disappointed to realize it wasn't his own. I reassured him it was only a matter of time and it would be his blood that would be shed. He is a football player. Watch out bobble heads, my boy is coming to a field near you!
No comments:
Post a Comment