A Football Fan?

Good Game

Football is so prevalent in our society, especially when we celebrate the yearly climax         at the Super Bowl.  The first game I attended was at my home town high school, and it somehow became wedged in my brain, even though I was only five years old. I remember standing near the top of the stadium behind large men in top coats on that frosty evening, trying to understand why people came to the event.  I asked my mother about this as   cigar smoke stung my eyes and filled my nostrils. I don’t think I received  an answer,         so I struggled to make sense of everything going on around me.

Because of the wall of coats, I couldn’t actually watch the action, but I knew my cousin, Billy, was number twenty-two.  (Probably the reason we were there, along with the fact that my sister was a majorette.)  As the competition heated up, I  knew something significant happened, because everyone around me started screaming, and I heard the number twenty-two mentioned on the speaker.  They were talking about my cousin.

A man directly in front of me yelled toward the field,  “You hot dog!  You hot dog!”

Incensed, I said to my mother, “That man called Billy a hot dog!”

“Be quiet,” she said in a low voice.

I didn’t know why I should be quiet.  He was the one causing problems.

I don’t think I ever forgave that person for calling my cousin a hot dog, but I learned         to enjoy football games to a degree, especially when I was in high school and had a real interest in whether or not Easley won.  I went with my friends, and we ran into others I knew, and even though I wasn’t always sure what was going on (except when a player ran for a touchdown or kicked a field goal), I enjoyed the experience when the weather wasn’t too cold.

My junior year was especially fun, since we had a running back nicknamed “Roadrunner” who scored with ease.  He helped us make it to the South Carolina State Championship game that year, and we actually won!  Stanley Morgan was such a great player, I wasn’t surprised when he started playing professionally.

I have to admit my passion for football has faded since my high school days, although         I try to tolerate the sport when my husband watches occasionally.  I think it would be  more palatable for me if they still showed marching bands and majorettes during half- time. That’s the only portion I liked when we were at my grandmother’s house during     the holidays and a game was on. And now that I think of it, we were exposed to all those games at her house mostly because of Billy.


About dalesittonrogers

I live with my husband, Rick, and our two cats, Mocha and Tiger. I write articles and poetry, and fiction for all ages. I'm excited about my novella, Lost in the Everglades: myBook.to/DaleSRogers and my store: http://www.zazzle.com/designs_by_dale/products?st=date_created Follow me on Twitter! @DaleSRogers
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2 Responses to A Football Fan?

  1. stephanie710 says:

    Enjoyable read, Dale. I’m not a fan of football or sports in general. My mother, ever the cheerleader, forced me to join the flag twirling squad in 8th grade; for that I will never forgive her. Lol I spent many a Sunday twirling and marching when I would much rather have been reading at home. I live at the NJ Shore where every Sunday, hoards of jersey wearing ravenous fans crowd bars and eat, drink and cheer for hours on end; I just don’t get it.

    • When I was 15, I tried out for what they called the color guard, which involved carrying something like flags. There was a conflict with my schedule, so I never finished the trials, but I would’ve hated being at all those games, so it’s just as well.

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