Thursday, February 7, 2008

Blast From the Past Vol. 2

[This is part of my regularly random series entitled "Blasts From the Past".]

With barely enough kids to field an entire team, the grid-iron that day was not kind to our son's inexperienced, out-sized and out-manned middle school football squad. And to say that his team was the underdog is rather an understatement. The ominous feeling of doom began even before the game started, as my husband and I watched both teams run onto the field: from one side, a swarm of ants; from the other, a herd of giants. Questions began filling the air like a Jeopardy show: "Why are their coaches dressed in football uniforms? Those are PLAYERS?! Are we even at the right field?? There is no way those are middle school kids! Are you sure that isn't their high school team?! Those are middle school kids?!? Are you kidding me?!? Do you think we should start praying?? Are we paid up on our insurance??!
Inevitably, we were faced with the grim reality: we were at the right football field; those giants dressed in the opposing uniforms were not coaches, or high school kids, but were indeed, middle school boys; prayer was our best, and eventually our only defense; and, thankfully our health insurance policy was in good standing. Let the slaughter. . . er. . .game begin.

Because our regular quarterback was injured (or maybe he'd gotten wind about the opposition) the duty of leading our team to victory fell squarely onto my 85 pound, 13 year old son's shoulders. Not only was our son among the youngest in his grade, he was also one of the smallest players on our team. But what he lacked in stature, he made up for with "heart." However, heart was not what our team needed. We needed armor, and muscles, and testosterone, and about 20 more players.

One player in particular from the opposing team revealed our side's weaknesses. (That we lacked armor, and muscles, and testosterone, and extra players.) He was a defensive lineman, and quite frankly, in the testosterone lottery, he had hit the jackpot. . . and then some. He stood a full head taller than anyone on our side of the ball, including the referees, and his "five o'clock shadow" was even visible from the side lines. Most of our guys didn't even have a shadow. If not for the number 64 on his football jersey, one might have mistaken him for the Hulk, or Andre the Giant, or Godzilla. He was so over sized that his coaches had wrapped duct-tape around his waist in an effort to keep his middle-school-sized-pants from falling down. All afternoon, this "kid" had his way with our offensive line, and seemed to enjoy swatting them aside like gnats. And consequently my quarterback son, although full of heart, spent most of the afternoon on the ground experiencing the full extent of number 64's duct-taped girth and his testosterone windfall. Finally, mercifully, the game ended. Aside from the zero on the scoreboard and the obvious affront to our sons' egos, the parents all considered it a resounding victory--mostly because none of our kids were carried away by ambulance, and just about all of our boys' limbs were still intact (and the T-Rex wearing the jersey with the number 64 was making his way off the field, thankfully, in the other direction.)

Afterward, we awaited the sad re-emergence of the downtrodden from the locker room, and then the even sadder drive home. At last we retrieved our war-weary boy, and as he sat, head hanging down in our car in the congested parking lot, the silence was broken by the familiar beeping sound of a nearby school bus driving in reverse. Without looking up, our son, summed up his frustration and the day's events mumbling, "That's probably that big ol' number 64 walking backwards."


Suzanne said...

Awww, how frustrating for your son's team...and the parents! I guess you can call it a good game since no one had to be taken to the ER? :)

Lori said...

been there...done that...only ours was in baseball and basketball...we both must live in "small towns"

i DO love how you tell a story:)

The Paisley Studio/Sarah McNamara said...

I love your stories, Cathy! I see your son has inherited your sense of humor!


Lorraine said...

What a great story, Cathy...poor kids, thank goodness none got hurt...I swear sometimes they need to check the birth certificates of some of these kids! LOL

Mockingbird Hill said...

Ah, yes...the sense of humor prevails! Hard to laugh through tears but it seems to be the cure all.

Sorry about the loss, but being able to be funny at a time like that is the real gift.. ;)


artgirlATL said...

Hi Georgia Girl,
I visited your website and love it and your blog. I'm actualy down in McDonough. So I'm kind of in the sticks too! Keep in touch :)

love.boxes said...

I'm sorry your son's team didn't win.. his comment at the end was pretty funny though! :)

I was looking at your profile as I popped over here.. I love Wesley and Watts too... some of the most beautiful poetry in the English Language I think. :)

Becca said...

Such a familiar story (and sorry to say very amusing!) ... had three sons, all lacrosse players, and sat through many of these kinds of games. It's painful.

Ruth Welter said...

Cathy, it is always great to meet another glitter and Grunge artist. Love the work you have up there this month, I was just taking a peek. I especially love the sweet girl with a kite in her hand. I also really love the chick in the egg, reminds me of the peeps I enjoy eating so much around Easter time. Nice to meet you.

Lynn@ The Vintage Nest said...

Cathy, I can tell you without a doubt we went through the same thing. My little (not anymore) 7th grade son was a running back and quite good. At the time we lived in the suburbs and when his team played a country team it was like......well I commented to my husband coach.."what do they feed these country kids, they are huge". I also worried for my little one when he got tackled. Turned out tennis became his #1 sport. ~ Lynn

ga.farmgirl said...

Oh yes, I do remember those days. My 2 sons are grown now. Your story does bring it all back. Thanks for sharing it.

Doreen said...

Thank goodness they all came away with just injured prides and ego's. I remember those days when as a parent you wanted to pull your child off the team to make sure he didn't get hurt..sometimes you wonder how these kids get so darn big.

Thanks for sharing the story with always bring a smile to my face. It sounds as though your son might share your sense of humor.


Jenn and Jacqui said...

Hi Cathy, we love your stories too! Your son has a cute sense of humour and that is wonderful :) Love what you have been creating on the previous posts, must pop over to G & G sometime soon, heard of it but have not been yet. Have a lovely Sunday! Jenn and Jacqui

Lorraine said...

Hey Cathy...stop by my blog when you get a chance...I'm doing a give-away!

justabeachkat said...


Thanks for stopping by for a visit today. I hope you'll come're always welcome.

I've enjoyed my visit here and will come again.


Amy at Bunny Rose Cottage said...

Hi Cathy! THank you so much for visiting my blog! I have really enjoyed my visit to yours! I love all of your goodies :)


Kim Hardt Originals said...

Hi Cathy, Just stopping by and checking out your blog and updating myself on what you have been up to.

Have a wonderful week!


Sharon said...

Awe....the agony of defeat. That has happened to us so many times. But then there were days when we won. Our town has gone many, many years without a winning football season, but this year when my son was playing they won the most games ever 6 games in a row! And it was soooo exciting. Your son's day will come!

Hugs, Sharon