Today I had to take my son to football. Now, not for anything, but I hate football. I don’t understand it, don’t want to understand it, have no desire to understand it. But being a nice wife, I let my husband go play golf and I took Matthew to football. I had no idea . . .
There must have been 100 kids aged 5-6 running around. This is all done by parent volunteers as coaches. It was unbelievable: there must have been 30 dads (only 1 mom) out on the field, coaching. Some were just laid back, telling the kids what the drill was and how to hold the ball, etc. But some . . . some were definitely reliving their days on the gridiron.
Now remember, these are 5 and 6 year olds. I heard yells of “Get your hands around the ball!” “Hustle, hustle, hustle!” “Shoulder down. Block. Block!” If you could see these kids. Their main purpose was to rip off another kid’s flag. Who cares who had the ball. One kid ran a whole drill going the wrong way. Another kid got halfway down the line to catch the ball, turned and ran back to the others. You could see many a father shaking his head, seeing his dream of watching his boy on TV go right out the window.
I thought it was hilarious. These kids were having a blast, not realizing that they were dashing their father’s dreams of being able to brag about his son. I watched three kids playing tag, ignoring what was going on.
Let’s let the boys be boys. (I’m not sure if I am talking about the 5 year olds or the fathers.)