Faking Football No More

For the past 30 years I faked football.

You see, I married into a family that enjoys sports. Correction: they do not enjoy sports, they obsess over sports. In all those years, I can't recall more than a handful of conversations that didn't revolve around football, softball, baseball, basketball or someotherkindofball. And those conversations that were about other topics quickly turned into a sports analogy followed by "did you see that game...?"

And we're back to sports.

So I learned to fake it.

When my 9 year old son played football it was relatively easy to fake it. There are very specific rules that Moms of football players must follow.

• Once he has the uniform on absolutely no touching. Don't fix his hair, don't tuck his jersey in and under no circumstances do you tie his shoelaces. 
• Absolutely no public displays of affection.
• Refrain from vaulting over the other spectators to jack up the kid who tackled your baby. 

At this stage, you don't need to know the rules of the game, you only need to learn the Mom dance:

• Keep your eyes on your own kid at all times 
• When he falls down - you stand up.
• When he gets up - you sit down. 

And that's all you need to know to be a successful football Mom. 

Luckily for me, when he hit high school, Son O'Mine's focus turned to Art School and I no longer had to do the Mom dance every Sunday afternoon. 

Unfortunately, his father did not lose interest. Coaching became his obsession. And I do mean obsession.  All football, all day, all week, all year round.  And the Coach's wife isn't just watching one kid - no, she's expected to remember every kid, his number, what position he plays, his life history, his shoe size and what he had for breakfast.  Sweet Mother of God, now I had to actually pay attention to the game. And as soon as the game was over, he would recap every friggin' minute of the game in excruciating detail.  In our home, there was no such thing as football season. As soon as the last game was over, he would be working 24/7 planning plays and recruiting players for the next year. 

I think it's some bizarre genetic brain mutation  - This man could recall with perfect clarity, every play of every game he'd ever seen or played in the past 50 years, yet he could never remember where the hell he left his glasses. Go figure.

This year, I did not watch one football game all year. Not from the bleachers or the couch, live or televised. Not interested, don't care. Really, Really don't care.

But tomorrow,  I will be watching a bowl game - The Puppy Bowl. Penguin cheerleaders, puppy tailgaters, kitty half-time. It doesn't get any better than that. 

Penn State Shame

"May no act of ours bring shame"
Too late, Joe.

Ok, so as the wife of a Football Coach, you know I couldn't stay silent about this horrific situation at Penn State University. I thought letting some time pass would allow me to calm down and see this rationally. Yeah, not so much.

When the Board of Trustees fired Joe Paterno, I was relieved to see that they seemed to finally be getting their priorities straight. But it seemed a matter of too little too late. While Joe Pa might be the most visible villian here, he is by no means the only one.

First and foremost, Jerry Sandusky is the lowest form of life there is - a pedophile. There is no punishment dark enough, painful enough to pay for what he did. He is simply a waste of skin.

Then there's Mike McQueary. He actually witnessed Sandusky raping a 10 year old boy in the shower. What did he do? He called his father. Then he reported it to Joe Paterno.

Did he call the police? NO.

The reports keep mentioning that McQueary was a graduate assistant at the time - making it sound as if he were a young student himself. The man was 28 years old. A grown man who made a choice NOT to notify the police after he witnessed a crime.


Then there's Tim Curley, the Athletic Director. After Paterno reported what was witnessed in the shower, Curley informed his superiors and 10 days later, he and Senior VP of Finance Gary Schultz interviewed McQueary.

Did either of these men call the police? NO.

It took them over two weeks to take Sandusky's keys to the locker room and they banned him from bringing children into the football locker room (a ban that Curley admitted was unenforceable).

Gary Schultz supervised the campus police at the time. He stated that he thought the incident involved Sandusky "inappropriately grabbing the boy's genitals" but it was "not that serious." He also told the grand jury that he knew about a 1998 investigation into a similar incident involving Sandusky and a boy in a shower and STILL did not report this.

And lastly there is Graham Spanier the University President. The incident was reported to him and he was fully aware that neither the campus police or any other police agency were notified. This man has a background in sociology and marriage and family counseling and it never occurred to him to report this or follow up?

All of these men knew and CHOSE not to report it. Nor did any of them attempt to identify the boy involved or make one move to protect him or future victims.

The only moves they made were to protect the football program. This was a cowardly conspiracy of silence.

As I've said before, Sparky coaches football. For years we've understood that when it comes to holidays, family gatherings, social obligations, birthdays and such, they all come in second to football. We try to schedule around games and practice. And when he is home, the conversation runs to what players he's recruiting, what plays they'll use in the game this week, re-plays of last week's game, who's doing well/bad in practice - it's all football all the time - we get that.

But...

He takes his role as a Coach seriously. He spends his time reaching out to kids, encouraging them to work hard, keep their grades up, respect themselves and others and grow into decent, honorable men.

And I know without a doubt that he would NEVER put football ahead of the safety of a child. EVER.

My advice to parents of football players - do your research. Check out the Coaches and observe how they interact with the players on and off the field. Does the Coach invest in the players or does he demand blind obedience? Coaches are there to support the players, they are not Gods.

The men at Penn State created a Football Cult.

Football is a wonderful sport and it can teach youngsters about strength, determination, teamwork and life.

Just don't drink the Kool-Aid.



P.S.  Final score on these players:

Indicted: Jerry Sandusky
Fired: Joe Paterno and Graham Spanier
Admin Leave: Tim Curley (Penn State is paying his legal costs)
Retired: Gary Schultz (Penn State is paying his legal costs)

Hmmm...

No penalty is enough

So I’m sure you’ve heard by now that UCONN Football Coach, Randy Edsall left CT to accept a job coaching in Maryland. As the wife of a Football coach, the mother of a former football player and a resident of CT, here’s my open letter to Randy Edsall.

**********

Dear Mr. Edsall,

Edsall, you CLASSLESS, COWARDLY, HYPOCRITICAL DOUCHEBAG.

We’re sorry to see you go.

I’m calling a flag on this play, YOU SLIMY CREEP.

You have been a respected leader and coach to not only the UCONN players, but the citizens of CT.

You are a REPREHENSIBLE, COWARDLY ASSWIPE. Did I say COWARDLY?

You were not only a Coach, but a mentor and role model to each of the young men who played for you.

When Jordan Todman made the decision to leave UCONN for the NFL draft, you made him stand up and tell the team face to face.

And yet, when it was your turn to MAN UP, you tucked your tail between your legs and ran like a dog.

You took that team to the Fiesta Bowl and after a valiant fight on their part, you ditched them like a fat prom date.

While the team returned to CT on a charter flight, you were sneaking off to Maryland without so much as a word of goodbye.

You didn’t have the guts to face those players and be honest with them.

In that one act, you have defined yourself. No matter what success you found (or find in the future), you will forever be known as the COWARDLY DIRTBAG who didn’t have the balls to face the team who looked to him for guidance.

You are the epitome of UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT.

And to the University of Maryland – you fired Ralph Friedgen after he won the ACC coach of the year award to hire Edsall? This COWARDLY LIAR is who you choose to lead your team?

Shame on you.

So long, Randy – Don’t let the door hit you in the ass.

Karma’s a bitch. I just hope I’m still around to see it when she bites you in the ass.

Season Over

So it's been a few weeks - let me catch you up.

Son O'Mine turned 23. Which makes me … older than 23.

Sparky's football team won their bowl game. So now they are the New England Prep School champs for their league.

And football season is over for this year. Now we get to do things I like – things we’ve been putting off since August.

It was a long season of Sparky being busy 7 days a week, trying to schedule any and all family occasions around practice and games.

In the end, Son O'Mine and I traveled over two hours into the hinterlands of Massachusetts to sit on a blanket on a hill in sub-zero weather to watch them win (I’m pretty sure Massachusetts is above the arctic circle).

Our team is a second-half team. They like to mess with you - they play kind of crappy till the half. Then they spend the second half wiping up the field with the other team. So not only was it freezing cold, it was emotionally exhausting.  They put us through this every week. The championship game was no different. 14-14 at the half. 49-20 final score.

But those home games rocked. Especially the tailgating food. Man, those parents put on a spread. We’re not talking burgers and dogs (although those were present), no… we’re talking lasagna, mac and cheese, chili, chicken gumbo, pulled pork and truckloads of barbecued ribs to die for. Oh yeah, I still dream about those ribs.

And I miss the music – they played Flo-Rida and Will I Am’s “Ayer” every time we scored a touchdown.

Cause nothing quite says ‘Elite Connecticut Prep School’ like a gaggle of chubby football moms bedecked in Lands End fleece singing:

"OH HOT DAMN! THIS IS MY JAM!!!"

To be honest, I’m looking forward to next year.

But don’t tell Sparky. I don’t want to lose my Coach’s wife Saint status.