Mother of a Football Player

Hello Everybody!

Oh how I have tried to come up with a super colossal beginning! I lost track of what went to the waste basket, but here's a sample of what I threw away:

WHAT A GREAT YEAR WE'VE JUST EXPERIENCED!
{Flat. What an underestimation}.

I tried again.

FRIENDS, THIS NIGHT IS A RARE OCCASION. SO RARE, WHO KNOWS WHEN WE'LL EVER EXPERIENCE IT AGAIN!
{What a pessimist. I came up with that idea after looking over the football program and running a pencil through the senior's names}.

Again, I tried.

CONGRATULATIONS TO THE CHAMPIONSHIP TEAM WITH A PERFECT RECORD. TWELVE WINS AND ZERO LOSSES!
{Well, who doesn't know that}.

And I thought -- what can I tell them they don't already know about football? And I came up with this answer:

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE A MOTHER OF A FOOTBALL PLAYER.

Most of you will never know. And the minority here know exactly what I am going to say.

Mothers have their own way of seeing, feeling, and understanding. First of all, a mother loves this feeling we all have of family togetherness. We love the way we fit together in this big round happy circle. We have our weekly reunions on top of the bleachers strung out across the state. No matter where or what the weather, we are there, huddling together, sharing blankets, scarves, gloves, and umbrellas. We drip together, we laugh together, we yell together, we stand up together, we embrace together, we get mad together, we sing together, we grow silent together, we cry together and WE WIN TOGETHER!

We trade drinks and refreshments. The refreshment boy was passing up pop orders through James when Ellis intercepts a pass and starts plowing down those underfoot. The pop cans start flying every which way. It wasn't until the next play and Ellis made the touchdown that we realized we were drinking each other's orders, and James had kept the change! Oh, and in that transaction I noticed Lee Wanker ended up with the dill pickle. He said he ordered it though. He said he always orders dill pickles. Now I've been wondering why and I think it's to keep his voice loud and clear.

And you know one of my best spots on the bleachers is having Jack Grayson on my right, Dell Ashby on my left (with James and Barbara in between for percussion purposes), Pete Shields up behind my left shoulder and Lee Wankier up behind my right shoulder. Then I've got it made!

They know every play the quarterback is going to call -- before he does. They're faster at calling the penalties than the ref is with the whistle. Right in unison they yell out, "Stop the clock!" "Oh, ref., come on." "Plain stupid, just plain stupid."

And in this spot I like to look down on my right and see the profile of Dr. Bird. His abrupt expressions show exactly how I feel but don't dare let it out. I just look over and watch him roll it out and under my breath I say, "Yeah."

And then I like the profile of Quinn Shepard on my left, not that I learn anything from his face, but I just marvel at the way he controls his pride. I watch it start in his toes, he moves it along up through his stomach, slightly wiggles it on through his chest and shoulders and cuts it off at his neck -- talent, man, that takes talent!

It's great to be around old dry wit Eddie Lyman and happy Jennie. I've often thought how much fun it would be to have Wes Peterson in our midst, but he never makes it in time to get a seat!

A mother never sleeps the night before a game. The next morning she suffers butterflies and loss of memory. I baked a chicken 3 hours and 20 minutes the day of the Millard game. When I threw that oven door open and looked in at that brown leathered creature I said, "Unknowingly, I've burned their Eagle!"

One mother didn't know whether she did or whether she didn't -- until her son called from the team bench during the 2nd quarter at San Juan and said, "Hey Mom, where's my pants?" Then she knew she didn't.

A mother suffered loss of hearing. Her son said, "Mom, please hurry and bring me my white jersey!" She hurried and gave him his red jersey. He suffered color-blindness. He took the red one from her thinking it was white, tucked it in his bag and left!

A mother breaks speed limits only in emergencies when she is trying to catch a plane to fly a jersey to San Juan!

A mother suffers deep humiliation when a loud penetrating voice blasts out at her son -- "Oh no, what did you have to clip then for -- 22?"

A mother knows the importance of hot mush, spaghetti and meat balls and biz! But she knows that even more important are the thoughts she feeds into his head -- attitudes, team spirit, sportsmanship, encouragement, and humility.

A mother inquires about the prayers in the locker room. A mother keeps secret watch over the coaches and is ever grateful for what she sees.

And a mother is filled with strange nostalgia on that final day she spreads the red and white across the clothesline. She stands back a little heart achy and meditates as it gently waves back at her unfolding the many memories. She marvels at how a uniform like that, worn the past three or four years can so shape a boys life!

You see, when a mother looks out on the football field, at times her eyes travel just a little beyond. She sees in the distance the man her son is becoming. And a mother knows:

When the flag is down
And the drums are silent
When the field is empty
And the bleachers bare
The player walks away as a man!

A mother is forever grateful for her son is a CHAMPION OF DELTA HIGH SCHOOL!