On the eve of one of the most important moments in Seattle sport's history I am having trouble concentrating on anything. It feels like Christmas Eve, like Christmas Eve when I was 7. The Seahawks are playing in the SuperBowl. TOMORROW. Holy cow. So I've been feeling super crazy about this whole thing, and was wondering what it was about football that does this to people. So I sat down for the first time in almost a year and started writing. This is how I am handling the pre-game nerves. This is why football matters to me:
I have never been a morning person. From the very first day
I was a night owl. I knew the pleasure of sleeping in at a very young age. Even
at 5 my parents had to go to great measures to get me out of bed every morning.
Except for Sundays. I knew I could sleep
in comfortably without concern of getting dragged out of bed before I was
ready. I also knew that a little after
10am on most Sundays I would get woken up by the sound of my Dad’s booming
voice yelling at refs, players, and coaches all who couldn’t hear him, as they
were many miles away and only tiny little figures on the television. It was
football Sunday. And it was time to get up and go stare at the screen
completely unaware of what the heck was actually going on. And yet I sat there.
Overjoyed at getting to spend hours of uninterrupted time in front of a
television, next to my dad. I thought my Dad was a genius, a little nuts, a
little loud, but a genius. He knew the names of players on teams he didn’t seem
to even care about. He would make the call before that little yellow flag even
had time to hit the ground. I had absolutely no idea what was going on, but it
was exciting, and my brothers and I and my dad were doing it together.
As I got older I lost interest as one tends to do. I didn’t
know what was going on and I had better things to do on a Sunday. I had woods
to explore, and bikes to ride, and an entire classroom of stuffed animals that
needed a teacher. But every Sunday, football was the soundtrack to our day.
In the summer before fourth grade a new family moved in next
door. A family of all girls. The oldest and I became best friends instantly,
mostly out of convenience, but as the years went on out of true love. Her dad
passed away when she was younger and he had been a football fan. So she, as she
always did, carried this torch for him. And when she learned I was from Texas
and with her being from Michigan, and this being the time when the Cowboys and
the Lions really meant something (maybe they still do? Just not to us)…well,
these two stubborn girls who loved their dad’s very much, had ourselves a
little rivalry. And thus began my second round of football fandom. We would sit
on the phone with each other on Thanksgiving, me on our phone attached to the
wall, and her on their new fancy cordless phone. We would talk smack as best as
12 year old kids could do as we watched each of our teams compete. One in the
morning and one in the afternoon. I had a favorite player for the first time, Mr.
Emmitt Smith #22, I had nicknames for other players based on their looks or
their swagger. I was learning an important part of football, the talk. Decades
later, she is on the other side of the country, we now root for the same team,
and we are still on the phone with each other during the games, talking smack
against the other team, and long distance holding each other’s hands when
things get close.
Football. This funny little game, the weight of all these
memories. I can’t wait to talk about this season with Lyla when she is older. Even
if she has no idea what I am talking about, maybe it will spark a little fire,
a little interest…or maybe she’ll just the get a kick out of us yelling at the
TV, sharing the story of the 2013 Seahawks, the silly superstitions her parents
did every Sunday. And then maybe, years and years from now, she’ll sit
wondering why she even cares about such a silly thing like football and she’ll
remember… it wasn’t just about the game it was about the connectivity and
traditions. And then she’ll go change her shirt because her team is losing and
the fate of the season really does rest on her shoulders….
