I really don't mind being a football widow. Sure, it took a little getting used to, but after a while, it becomes old hat. It's all kinds of great to stand in the stands cheering every Friday night. It's a bit frustrating to know the inside scoop of what's going right and what's going wrong with the team, but it comes with the territory.
Every Friday night I look forward to the games. I look forward to the excitement of the crowd and my three cheering b
uddies. What I don't look forward to is the nail biting that comes with the territory. I don't look forward to those nights like tonight when I lose all words and stand shocked as I watch the clock run down to triple zeros and in a daze stare at the score board which tells me that my team is no longer 3-0. No, they have managed despite my yelling and screaming plays, to gain their first loss. So close to winning, so close. But close to winning tonight means second place, and second place means we didn't win.
Every Friday night I look forward to the games. I look forward to the excitement of the crowd and my three cheering b
uddies. What I don't look forward to is the nail biting that comes with the territory. I don't look forward to those nights like tonight when I lose all words and stand shocked as I watch the clock run down to triple zeros and in a daze stare at the score board which tells me that my team is no longer 3-0. No, they have managed despite my yelling and screaming plays, to gain their first loss. So close to winning, so close. But close to winning tonight means second place, and second place means we didn't win.This is the part that breaks me. That throws me. I don't show up every Friday braving the heat, allowing the heavy humidity to have its way with my hair to cheer on a group of high school kids who run up and down a field, playing keep away. I show up every Friday because someone I love stands on the sideline instructing those kids, encouraging them, nudging them to mine from deep within themselves strength and endurance to finish what they started. I cheer for him. Now that he has suffered his first loss of the season. A loss that was so close, that it was almost a win, I hurt for him.
I know, I know, it's just the beginning of the season. It's only one loss. The team will bounce back.
I know all of this, however, that doesn't make the the next few hours an iota easier.
I remember losses from past seasons, They weren't like this one. It was almost as if those kids knew they could win, they were convinced, then someone ripped away from them that certainty. A sad thing to be a part of.
I pick up the pieces and will wait until the wee hours of tonight, until he walks in his front door. I'll give him a hug and let him know that come rain or shine, humidity or drought, big win or little loss, I'll still be there cheering for him.
(That's if I ever get my voice back from all the hollerin' I did tonight!)
