Sardonic Sistah Says

Observations… Ruminations… Ponderances… & Rants from Another Perspective

Pigskin Thursdays

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The daily temperature is still averaging 90 degrees but our minds have already turned toward fall.  The kids are back in school and we are awaiting the coolness of the weather, the scurrying of squirrels gathering nuts, and the crunching of brightly colored leaves under our feet.

Or maybe it’s the sound of bones.

To my husband J, fall means football.   He begins excitedly talking about the next football season at the end of the last football season ; making plans to schedule off for the high holy days of this odd obsession (important dates: Ohio State v Michigan State, Ohio State in any Bowl Game,  and the Browns v the Bengals).  He tells me if there’s any thing I need to do with him those days I need to tell him early and forewarns me that  I better pray that our wedding anniversary doesn’t fall on an important game day because he won’t be doing anything after 12 on those day.  As a matter of fact, I should be sitting beside him in full reverence that holidays like those deserve.

“You can make me sandwiches and during commercials you can go get me a beer,” J said earnestly.  “But if the team starts losing you have to leave because you’re a jinx.”

I look at him like he just grew another head.  “J, go sit down somewhere.”

I have had some surprised looks when I tell people of J’s love for sports, especially football.  People naturally assume because he’s Asian his interests should veer more towards classical music, martial arts and perhaps baseball.   J loves rock music and football and what he knows about martial art is what he has seen on from the movies.   On Sundays, Thanksgiving weekend and Christmas thru New Year’s Day I am a football widow.

His exuberance for the sport has rubbed off on his son.  J2 loves to play and it doesn’t matter if the weather is cloudy or sunny, he will be in a pick up game with his friends.  Because J2 was able to bring up his grades last year J allowed him to try out for the Jr. High team this year.  J2 is now 2nd string on the 8th grade team (which is kind of good but to be expected).  I don’t know who is more excited, but I suspect that J may be a bit more excited than J2. 

Each day J goes and views the last few minutes of J2’s practice and, each day, he comes back with what he thinks is interesting information.

“Everyone is so excited that he’s playing on the team.”

“All the parents know who J2 is –they’re kids are going home talking about him.”

“J2 doesn’t know the plays.  The coach told him to do a couple of things and he did the opposite.”

I must admit, I didn’t get this involved when my daughter took a year away from musical theater to explore her inner jock by playing softball (if anyone remembers my Softball Chronicles from my other blog).  I could have done back flips when she returned to theater last year although it nearly drove me insane to raise money to send her over to the Fringe Festival this past summer.  The theater is my bliss and the fact that we can have that in common (and, in essence, her living out my dream of being a performer) brings us closer together.  I can see it’s the same with J; he’s vicariously living his high school football dreams through J2.  J is a big dude now, broad shouldered, thick and near six feet tall but the pictures of him in high school show a skinny, awkward runty dude (can I also mention he feathered his hair?).  He played football for a while but sometime in high school he gave the sport up.  I asked him why but he would never tell me but that picture kind of explains it all.

Last Thursday was J2’s first game.  It was a scrimmage against another small suburban school.  My daughter Cricket even decided to unplug herself from her computer and came along.  In this family of four I am the only non-sports person unless one can count cheerleading as sport (which it is!).  Over the years, from Cricket’s short stints in softball and volleyball I have learned that is very important to bring a book for the long lulls, down times, and bench riding moments.  Unfortunately I was rushed out of the house my book was left on the table. 

So I was there at the stadium, forced to watch the minute details. The game was supposed to start at 4:15; we arrived at 4:14 and for the first 20 minutes we watched home and visitors practice plays on the field. When it finally did start I missed it because I didn’t know Jr. High doesn’t kick off the way. Because J2 is second string he didn’t come out until about ten minutes into the game, when the other team had the ball. A few times he was able to grab a barreling opponent and the most exciting part of the game for us came when he was able to catch the ball and go a yard or two before getting run out of bounds.

His teammates didn’t fare as well. One player was crushed between two players and sat the remainder of the game on the bench. Another player was slammed and was crumpled on the ground for several minutes until they helped him walk off the field, wincing in pain at each step. He will be out for the rest of the season. From where I sat up in the stands a lot of the boys looked like Atom Ant and I was awed that they could do that much damage. I began to wonder if we really should be letting him play this savage game and how will we handle getting J2 up and down the steps if he should get injured.

But that is no worry to J. It’s a game, he says. It’ll strengthen him, he believes. It makes them feel good to know that there are more Korean Americans like Hines Ward, and brothers William and Marcus Demps are in pro football (yes, I know all three are Blasian, but J wants to claim them as all Korean).

So for now, when I can get away my Thursdays afternoons will be filled with Jr. High football, come rain or shine.


Written by rentec

5 September, 2007 at 2:53 am

Posted in asian men, parenting

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