Next Game
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I have not always been a real football fan. I’ve been going to football games since I was in diapers, but that doesn’t mean that I paid attention. As far as I was concerned, there were far more important things going on at the games than the action on the field — like the aggressive games of freeze tag that usually ensued once the other kids with diehard-fan parents and I became bored and fidgety.
When my dad coached in Montana, every home game was like a family reunion. I loved having my cousins around because the time seemed to pass more quickly. As my mom got caught up in chatting with my aunts, we kids were left to our own devices, which at times got us in trouble with my dad. He still talks about the time my brother and one of my cousins were fighting over whose turn it was to run out on the field and retrieve the kicking tee. There he was on the sideline, trying to coach a college football game, and my cousin — who was about seven years old at the time—was tugging on his shirttail, saying, “Uncle Bart, Uncle Bart — it’s my turn to get the tee.”
As I got older, I became more interested in actually watching my dad’s games. The more I yelled and screamed for the team, the more I felt part of the electric atmosphere of a live football game.
At practice today, the team went live for 15 plays, with all of the energy and intensity of a real game. As I stood on the sideline shooting photos, I felt a hint of that distinct game day spirit — something that I have missed since the days when my family and I could go to the majority of my dad’s games. I can’t wait to feel the real thing — and I think that’s the mark of a true football fan.