The Football Blues

Well the time has come. My little boy is playing football. Let me start by saying, I don't like sports very much, and I really am not fond of football; the hitting, the shoving, the patting on the butt. Don't get me wrong, I have said it before and I do mean it, sports does serve a great purpose. It teaches teamwork, and gives children discipline. Blah, Blah, Blah.

When I married my husband, probably even before, I always told him, "If I have a son, he will never play football!" I don't know what happened to my resolve. Maybe it happened when I realized my son really wanted to play football, and it was not just my husband's lifelong dream. Maybe it happened when I thought a team sport without undue pressure on my son would just the ticket.

Let me explain. For the last three years in both the spring and fall, my son has played baseball. Not only did he play baseball, he was usually the pitcher. Talk about pressure. In his mind the game depended upon how he threw. Did he walk too many? Was his game "on" that day? Will he stirke them out? That is a lot of pressure on a little boy. Not to mention his mom. Now that I have explained the situation, guess what position my son has been chosen to play...

THE QUARTERBACK :(