A year ago I didn’t even know what text messaging was (or if my phone could do it.) I still pretty much only text message 4 people in my life. So why do I care if I have unlimited text messaging? Well, in a word…
…Football.
And now you’re wondering if I’m one of those crazy people in the commercials that has game stats instantly sent to their phone or sneaks their phone into church so they don’t miss anything. I’m not. But my sister is. (Ok, maybe that’s a little dramatic. She wouldn’t sneak her phone into church…I hope…)
Other than during games, since November I’ve sent a grand total of–get this–7 text messages. 7. That’s right, just 7. Buuuuttttt…while watching the last two televised games I’ve exchanged more than 80 with Cheese (known to other people as my sister) in a 6 hour period.
I have to admit…I come from a long line of rabid Cheese-Heads. It makes Mr. Fix-It very nervous. He’s not a sports guy and just follows NASCAR and some College Football for fun. (He’s nominally a Cowboys fan, but I ignore that fact.) I can take it or leave it most of the time, too. But when I do sit down and watch my team, about two plays in…well…I’m a gonner. I start yelling and jumping out of my seat and mumbling cuss words under my breath (things I would never say out loud!). The crew watches in stunned silence as their Mama becomes, well, a rabid Cheese-Head.
I’m not the football fan my sister and brother-in-law are. I don’t follow the whole league, play football pools, or enjoy watching just anyone play because I “love the game.” I watch the team I’m interested, follow the rest of the league enough to know where we stand, and call my sister for anything else. And I try not to let it ruin my whole day if my team loses.
But I was raised by parents that were all of the above and then some. The neighbors actually came by to check on them once because they were worried about all the screaming and yelling. Dad was just watching the game and “coaching” loud enough they probably heard him out on the field. In Wisconsin.
There’s an amazing…culture…to football in our family. Everyone would come to Mom and Dad’s house for Sunday football. I mean, everyone that we were related too or like enough that they felt like family. The house was standing room only. Snacks, food, screaming at the TV…and my parents welcomed everyone in and made everyone feel like they belonged right there.
I didn’t appreciate it as much growing up and living there every.single.Sunday. And I didn’t appreciate it ruining Dad’s mood so often, or the fact that I couldn’t talk to him for most of the day, except on commercials. (I mean, let’s be honest. We’re die-hard, life-long, multi-generational Packers fans. There’ve been a lot of “bad” Sundays over my 32 years.) And I hated that they would always leave my house early on Sundays to “get home for the game.” But it was their hobby. It was part of who they were. There’s never been a “homecoming” like walking into my parents house on Sunday afternoon. Family. Food. Football. It’s bringing tears to my eyes just thinking about how much I miss it.
One of my forever favorite vacations as a family was when Mr. Fix-It, the Ladybug and I went home on a Thursday night, went to the National Zoo on Friday, visited on Saturday, and then stayed all day for football on Sunday and didn’t leave until Monday. I was laying out our plans with a co-worker and she said, “It sounds like you’re looking forward to watching football more than anything.” Honestly? I couldn’t care less about watching football all day. But I couldn’t wait to be home, surrounded by love (and Chex Mix!), and be a part of Sunday football.
There’s no way to re-create that. But it fills my heart to watch the game, message my sister, and still be able to share that little piece of who we were.
And remember that’s still part of who we are.
And Mr. Fix-It is glad we mostly get Redskins games. Because I’m not my sister and I only watch “my” team. We’ve only seen 4 games this year (plus last night!) and his nerves are already shot.
