#THUNDERDOME Part I

Or, The History of a sports fan.

Sports fanatics definitely earn that moniker each and every day.  I still remember my son's first football game.  He was in 4th grade and was playing up with 5th graders.  We were in Lockhart, TX, just a small town known for its BBQ.  Anyway, the parents at these games are allowed to pretty much roam the sidelines.  I was on the 20 yard line, taking pictures and video.  In comes my son for kickoff coverage.  The kick was decent. The player caught it at the 20, and ran to the 30.  There he was met by my son and a host of 4 foot nothing players in pads.

I'll never forget the sound his pads made as he hit the player.  It was that distinct 'crack', and it meant one thing:  my son had mad skills.  Darn straight.  His coach looked over at me and said:  That was (him).  I could feel my chest blow up bigger than a puffer fish.  Yeah!  We got us a player.

I looked up at my wife in the stands.  She waved me up. 

 "Sit down, and be quiet." she said.

On the way home, we agreed we won't be one of those parents.  We will celebrate the team, but this sport is not about our son.  What will come, will.

And it did.  Eleven years later, we just finished taking part in our last season as football parents, this time at the collegiate level.  What a ride.

I take great pride in encouraging my 7th grade students to take part in athletics.  Even if they don't like it, at least they tried.  Representing our school can be tough.  It's just the nature of the beast here on the West Side.  It's always good to see our students get out there and compete.  You can witness the nerves, even in the classroom during gamedays.  

I've witnessed the hard work it takes to take part and excel in sports.  And that is what makes me a fan.

Peace

"Start Unknown.  Finish Unforgettable."

-Nike