As summer winds down, I noticed my 11-year-old son becoming increasingly despondent. After disembarking from the bus on the final day of day camp, he realized that the start of school loomed just around the corner. Like many children, he eagerly anticipates summer—the ultimate paradise filled with playtime and devoid of schoolwork or early bedtimes. The thought of waiting over 250 days until the next summer break weighed heavily on him.
Then came the music. His face lit up, and he shared how the opening notes of the football theme song sent a thrill down his spine. It marks a joyous moment for many, encapsulated in six simple words: “Are you ready for some football?”
While autumn ushers in homework and exams, it also brings thrilling tackles and exhilarating touchdowns. The swim trunks are stored away, making room for jerseys to emerge. The new Madden NFL 16 for Xbox is now on shelves at GameStop and other retailers. Five days of school are worth it for a Sunday packed with games, not to mention the Monday and Thursday night matchups, along with college games on Saturdays.
Reflecting on my own childhood, my father was a passionate football enthusiast. Every week, he would place bets with his friend Mark, meticulously analyzing the sports section of the New York Daily News. Sundays were spent in front of the TV, shouting alongside my two brothers. If their team lost, it set a gloomy tone for the rest of the evening. I never quite understood the obsession; it appeared to be a waste of time and, frankly, a rather aggressive one.
When I got married, my husband enjoyed football, but not with the fervor my dad had. He liked watching the games but was open to other weekend plans unless it was a major matchup. This remained true even after we welcomed our two daughters. Then our son was born.
Initially, we adopted a practical parenting strategy. With three kids, we divided responsibilities on weekends. My husband took charge of the girls’ sports and activities on Saturdays, while on Sundays, he volunteered to stay home with the baby. I often found him on the couch, supposedly “watching” the baby, remote in one hand and the monitor in the other. As the baby grew into a toddler, he joined his dad on the couch, often for the sole purpose of sneaking potato chips without me noticing.
By the time my son turned 7, he transitioned from Nickelodeon to ESPN for his morning fix. Much like my dad, he began obsessing over stats and scores, but this time, technology allowed him to consume sports content nonstop. He pleaded with my husband to subscribe to NFL RedZone, eager to catch every game simultaneously.
In 2009, he became enamored with the Jets, during one of the rare seasons when they excelled. Our friend, a devoted Jets supporter, warned him that being a Jets fan often meant facing disappointment. And indeed, he has experienced his share of teary Sunday evenings and difficult Monday mornings surrounded by Giants fans. Now, at 11, he has discovered that managing fantasy teams can cushion the blow (hence why he has three).
Through all this sports talk, I’ve surprisingly learned quite a lot about a game I previously dismissed. Recently, while discussing football with my father, he expressed disbelief at my newfound interest in sports, given my earlier disinterest. I clarified that while I don’t consider myself a sports aficionado, I am a fan of my son. If diving into scores each morning helps me connect with him—and understand which jerseys he’s keen on wearing to school—I’m all for it.
Watching ESPN with my son has also opened doors for valuable life lessons. The realm of professional sports offers tales of courage and perseverance. The New England Patriots’ last-minute victory in the Super Bowl is a perfect example of never giving up. Yet, the world of football is not without its controversies, and my husband and I strive to turn these moments into teaching opportunities, addressing issues like poor sportsmanship, cheating, and substance abuse. I genuinely value how our shared interest in football fosters connection, especially as he approaches his teenage years.
So, am I prepared for some football? Absolutely! I’ve got the chips, salsa, and a box of tissues ready!