I was raised in a football family. My dad watched the Dallas Cowboys. I remember him and my brothers watching, hooting, and cheering. The thrill, I must say, passed me by. When I was a rebellious teenager, my most defiant act was to root for the Pittsburg Steelers, avowed enemy of the Cowboys.
Honey was raised in a sports home. Not as passionate, perhaps, but still, sports were followed. But Honey never really got into it. He's a musician. (We like to say that we really lucked out: I found the one man on the planet who didn't care about sports, and he found the one woman who wasn't into shopping.)
The Soccer Mom phenomena passed right by this family. Jake did a short season of T-Ball, once. Addie and Tom each did one season of soccer. Each of these things was community: you pay $40 to the city Rec center, and your kid gets a t shirt with a business logo, a participation "trophy," and a brief concept that this game usually has some rules, but we aren't worried about those right now.
So imagine my surprise when Jake announces that his all-time favorite sports team is the Denver Broncos; that his favorite athlete is Champ Bailey; and that is fondest ambition is to be a wide receiver for the Broncos. He was watching a football game on television (probably the first one ever to be watched in this house), and he was telling me about plays, and downs, fumbles and other such things. I felt betrayed when Honey came in, watched for a moment, and said, "Watch, now they'll argle gargle google goo" and when the team did, Honey and Jake cheered and high-fived. (Apparently, it's an XY chromosomal link thing. Not caring isn't the same as not knowing. Who knew?)
Now Jake is signed up for football. It comes with pads, helmet, uniform, coaches, games, practices, rules, tackles and the whole sweaty nine yards. It cost $200 to sign him up, and that was just the beginning of the shake down. (Remind me to someday complain about the "touchdown bucket.") Jake's season started today, with an exhibition game against Bingham.
Jake is a second stringer. At Bingham, he'd probably be a first stringer, but our team is absolutely loaded with Polynesians, and Jake probably weighs less than the team's single girl athlete. Apparently, though, it's all paid off. He came home from his first game completely jazzed: the Kearns Bantams won 27-13, Jake had 6 plays, and his coach said that he's learned faster and better than any other first year they've seen (most of his team has been playing for 4 years).
I can't say I ever pictured myself as the mother of an athlete, but the smile on Jakes face makes the flies buzzing around the corpse of the family wallet all worth while!