Recently, I had dinner with my son, Jake. As we enjoyed our burgers and fries, he looked down and nervously shared that he wanted to discuss something important. I braced myself for the usual teenage confessions—perhaps about a grade or a crush—but what he said caught me off guard.
“Mom,” he said, “I really wish you’d think about letting me try out for the high school football team next year.” He leaned back, his teenage frame stretching across the chair, hope gleaming in his eyes. I took a deep breath, knowing that my answer remained a resolute “no.”
In our small town, football is woven into the fabric of our community. Friday nights under the stadium lights, promising young athletes, and a robust athletic program have all contributed to Jake’s fascination with the sport. I can’t deny the nostalgia that washes over me as I recall my own high school experiences whenever I hear the marching band play.
While we are not diehard fans, our household certainly enjoys football. Sundays during the season are filled with referee whistles and animated discussions about officiating blunders. The aroma of chili simmering on the stove and a spread of nachos while cheering for our team creates a cozy winter afternoon. Despite our passion, Jake has always dreamed of playing football, but my husband and I have consistently put a stop to that desire.
In the earlier years, it was simpler to sidestep his requests to join a football team. We would cite busy schedules or claim we missed the sign-up deadlines. However, the underlying truth was our shared belief that the game posed too many risks for young players. Although tackle football isn’t introduced until later, the potential for concussions and other injuries is simply too significant.
My discomfort with the idea of Jake playing tackle football is rooted in personal experience. When he was just eight years old, a freak accident during gym class led to a severe concussion. At first, he seemed fine, sporting a large bruise on his forehead and a mild headache. But within hours, his condition deteriorated dramatically. He experienced uncontrollable vomiting, dizziness, and disorientation. We rushed him to the emergency room, where a CT scan confirmed he had sustained a major concussion.
The six weeks of required brain rest, along with months of monitoring his symptoms, drastically altered our lives. Schoolwork became nearly impossible for him; he frequently needed to rest, either on the couch or in the nurse’s office at school. Activities like riding his bike or playing at the park were forbidden, as they posed a risk of further injury. His accident was unexpected—caused by a simple incident rather than the intentional collisions found in football.
Witnessing Jake suffer, both from the pain of the concussion and the lengthy recovery, solidified my determination to prevent him from playing tackle football, no matter how much he longs to participate. As a parent, it’s my responsibility to ensure his safety and set boundaries to protect him. For us, saying no to football is one such boundary, informed by our previous experience with a severe head injury.
I understand that many parents have different views and choose to allow their children to play. I can respect those decisions and would happily take Jake to cheer for his friends and support local athletes. However, as a concerned mother, I can’t shake the fear of potential long-term harm from a game or practice.
Standing firm in our decision is no easy feat, especially in a community where football is celebrated. I see the longing in Jake’s eyes as he watches from the stands, wishing he could don a jersey with a large number on his back. When we watched the film “Rudy” recently, I could sense his disappointment at the thought of never having a memorable play to share at reunions or a stadium chanting his name.
As we left the restaurant, however, he turned to me, wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and said, “I’ll forgive you for not letting me play football if you buy me ice cream.” I smiled and agreed, recognizing that this was a small price to pay for his safety.
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In summary, my decision to deny Jake the opportunity to play football may be tough, but it is firmly rooted in our family’s experiences and my desire to keep him safe.