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I’m already pumped.
Bring it on.
Oh my goodness, we were two grandmothers excited by the first look of our grandsons on the field this season.
Football is about to begin.
We arrived to see the scrimmage game between Monte Vista and Pagosa Springs.
I saw my friend at the fence and said, “I’m so nervous, I just had to come to see what the team looks like this year.”
My friend chuckled and said, “I’m nervous, too.”
We talked to a couple of the fathers at the fence.
I said, “It’s so exciting, isn’t it? What do you think of the team?”
One responded, “We’ll have to wait and see.”
The other father said, “It’s important to these kids. To some of them, this is their biggest moment to shine. They will hold on to this experience the rest of their life.”
“I believe that,” I said. “Their lives might be mundane, but they will never forget those moments on the field when they were heroes.”
One father said, “My son says he misses everything about the Pagosa football team. College is different. It’s not the same.”
“I know,” I said. “Last night, at the softball game, I asked my grandson, Slade, if he was retiring his number 64. He’s grown up on the football field with that number and, right now, he’s wearing the same number on his softball shirt. He’s off to college. I think it hit him that those days have passed when I asked him about his number. Slade thought a moment and said, ‘I might have to come back next year to play softball again.’”
After small talk with a couple of the fathers, my friend and I made our way to the stands. She was sporting the latest fashion, with a zebra-stripe umbrella under her arm and a light pink raincoat in case of rain.
For me, I go for comfort with my stadium seat, my standby layers and a big coat.
Granted, it was just a scrimmage; the scoreboard was empty, lights out, our cameraman was sitting on top of the goalpost taking pictures, but we were acting like two giddy teenaged girls, hoping we might get to wear our grandsons’ jerseys during the game.
The boys were not dressed in their uniforms; they were wearing practice jerseys with no numbers.
My friend said, “I can’t tell who’s who.”
“I know, I can’t either,” I said. “Where is your grandson?”
“He’s the one with the black thing in front.”
“I laughed. The black thing?”
“Yes, you know that thing he has to wear.”
“What is it called?”
“I don’t know. Is Creede wearing his gold shoes?,” she asked.
“I don’t see his pink socks or gold shoes. But he’s got number one on his back. I can tell who he is, he’s the big guy.”
During this practice game, I was looking for the big guy wearing No. 1 and she was looking for the player with the little black thing on his front.
The rain came, my friend opened up her zebra design umbrella, everyone else filed out, one by one. We cozied up against each other and watched the scrimmage until they called it off because of rain.
We sat, drenched, in the stadium. Wild horses couldn’t drag us away.
I asked, “Where are the fans going? If they leave now, what’s going to happen when it’s five below and they are sitting on metal seats?”
It was just a scrimmage, but I’ve already put it out on Facebook to all my friends, sent the first pictures of the team and bragged about our boys.
I’m already pumped.
Did I see magic on the field? No, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the biggest guy out there, wearing No. 1. My friend followed the boy with the black thing in front.
Two grandmothers were as happy as they could be.
Final brushstroke: What is it about football, grandsons and living their dream? See you at the games. Football has begun.
“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of their treasures.” — Thornton Wilder 1897-1975, Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright and novelist.