For my writing class we were asked to write a piece about a place. I decided to write about being at my son's first football game.
Football
It's a beautiful May, Saturday morning. I walk onto the field with my twelve year old son Jack. The turf is bright green with no blemishes except the fresh white lines that outline the playing field and large white numbers stamped every ten yards along the side lines. Two bright yellow goal posts face each other in either end zone like colossal pitch forks. Six mammoth light posts surround the stadium, with five bulbous pot lights staring down at the scene below, giant eyes keeping watch like sentinels.
First impressions? Impressive. These are real teams, on a real field with real uniforms. I felt like I was standing on the field of Friday Night Lights, very American. Not the Canadian apology version of the sport that I was used to, but the real deal. This is serious. I think that makes my twelve year old son very nervous. Its his first year playing so he didn't really know what to expect. He thought it was a "just for fun" team, but he was wrong, we both were.
Black uniform bags line the sidelines, with water bottles and clipboards littering the ground where they have been dropped. Players mill around in groups, stretching and warming up, waiting for the whistle to blow to start the game. These are boys of all ages, economic backgrounds, races and personalities but when they have the uniform on they are a team, they are one.
Up close and personal these boys seem to be vulgar, snot spitting, crotch scratching, motherless Neanderthals, but when the coach calls "huddle up" and the whistle blows, they become a well oiled machine. For most of the people here this is their life. The coaches eat and breath football, coaching both high school teams as well as their son sons club ball. The players themselves prepare for their dreams of being football stars, or maybe that is the dreams of their parents. For myself and my son, we are just trying to figure out whether we have put the padding on in the right places and its
right side up.
The team is Mississauga Warriors - red, white, and black. They've had a number of championship victories and from what I have seen at practice they are going for another. I'm excited for my son to be a part of this team and once he gets over his nervous jitters and gets into the game I can tell he is excited too. It's a lot of time and commitment but I love seeing the smile on his face when he comes off the field bruised and disheveled but victorious because he made a good tackle.
First impressions? Impressive. These are real teams, on a real field with real uniforms. I felt like I was standing on the field of Friday Night Lights, very American. Not the Canadian apology version of the sport that I was used to, but the real deal. This is serious. I think that makes my twelve year old son very nervous. Its his first year playing so he didn't really know what to expect. He thought it was a "just for fun" team, but he was wrong, we both were.
Black uniform bags line the sidelines, with water bottles and clipboards littering the ground where they have been dropped. Players mill around in groups, stretching and warming up, waiting for the whistle to blow to start the game. These are boys of all ages, economic backgrounds, races and personalities but when they have the uniform on they are a team, they are one.
Up close and personal these boys seem to be vulgar, snot spitting, crotch scratching, motherless Neanderthals, but when the coach calls "huddle up" and the whistle blows, they become a well oiled machine. For most of the people here this is their life. The coaches eat and breath football, coaching both high school teams as well as their son sons club ball. The players themselves prepare for their dreams of being football stars, or maybe that is the dreams of their parents. For myself and my son, we are just trying to figure out whether we have put the padding on in the right places and its
right side up.
The team is Mississauga Warriors - red, white, and black. They've had a number of championship victories and from what I have seen at practice they are going for another. I'm excited for my son to be a part of this team and once he gets over his nervous jitters and gets into the game I can tell he is excited too. It's a lot of time and commitment but I love seeing the smile on his face when he comes off the field bruised and disheveled but victorious because he made a good tackle.
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