Sitting beside TBG this afternoon, reading a book I realized I had read before, I was distracted by his quickened breath. I looked up at the screen and witnessed his hapless Cleveland Browns running successfully across the goal line.
He whooped. He hollered. He shot his fist in to the air.
Then, we laughed together as the phone rang; we knew it was Big Cuter calling to congratulate his paternal unit.
And, as I listened to two of my favorite men reviewing and recounting and retelling and smiling and sharing I had to admit that football is good for something.
If it creates opportunities like these, maybe it's not all bad. I was able to reassure my son that I no longer found him to be of questionable moral character for watching America's blood sport. Instead, I lauded him for bending his principles enough to allow him to share the love with his father.
This parenting stuff is complicated, no matter how old the kids get.
I can't watch it; after seeing interviews with soldiers returning with CTE, and their sadness over knowing things will only get worse. They want their old selves back. Seeing what is essentially a business willing to kill their players just makes me ill. I guess the lure of the money makes men willing to take the chance.
ReplyDeleteI predict that football will go the way of boxing - the poor and the marginalized will make up the players. I still don't watch, but I don't know what would replace the joy my boys have shared since the 1980's. They've been betting against the spread against one another for years (and have saved the records to remind themselves how bad they are!). Sigh.......
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