I Miss Our Football Life- BYU vs. BSU



Hi, Readers.

Just laying here enduring the backfire of some injections in my back. They worked for a bit but not today. And the grieving the days when my son and I were eat, slept, and lived football.

It's fall now in I. F. The smells of the cold front coming in, it rained. The way the sun glows. I haven't said it much because I have wanted to support J.'s decisions and I have been too sick to make it to games.

But I miss it. I miss seeing him pull his helmet off his head and his sweaty hair matted down on his noggin'




with his little cousins running up to him once they could recognize which blue helmeted knight was him.
 

 

I will never forget when he came out of nowhere and leapt in the air, taking down a guy and both of them sliding within' inches of my feet. I recall me throwing him the ball


(RB getting the ball)



 over and over as he wore a Skyline helmet- loaned to him during Halloween. Play after play.

My body was pushing and finally the bottom fell out. Our lives detoured- he took up other sports.

Then today I had to be reminded of the fact we haven't even watched football together except the two times we went into Carl's Jr. so he could have a burger.

I love the game. I loved watching him. I still love watching a game with him.


(Padre took this of Eli Ames in one of J's games.)

In real time or on the big screen. Most kids go through football all the way - through HS. He played hard. He learned the discipline.

For us- J. and I it has possibly been cut short. And that transition was hard. Heck, yeh, I was relieved about some aspects. I couldn't be there on the sidelines- as involved as much as I was back then.

The pain and discomfort was becoming unbearable and the teaser my P.A. had given me when he asked if J. and I took in the game helped me reach for the computer.... on it held emotions of memories that we made on a day to day basis. We lived for it. The ache for that for what he does now





flooded my whole body.

My P.A. strategically told me the summary version of the game as I lay face down on the table waiting for the sting of a needle( due to alcohol wipes not drying all the way) going into balled up, radiated muscle pain from the esophagus closures. 

Complicated, I know. So after eating good healthy food, and laying down or resting as much as I could after a tough day
(even in P.T. they had me doing more stuff! It doesn't let up. And I can't let up. Maybe that's just it- it is my turn to train, put in practice to get stronger. ?)

I took in the 15 seconds of BYU's freshman come in and throw a hail mary that was caught in the end zone and then some dude name, Kai, had an interception for BYU and runs it clear into BSU's end zone.

I lost at least 5 mg of prednisone as I replayed it and then had my veteran player come in and watch it with me. Even J was gripping the lap top as the unbelievable game unfolded before his eyes.

What I would give to be at a game like that and be able to rise up and shout and cheer like I used to.

After watching a few times he jumped up from my bed and said in passing:

"That's what I wanted. I wanted to be Running Back. That would be hard now." he chuckled and patted his gut.

The guilt lessened inside my heart because it seemed that if I couldn't be there to watch those tackles, to understand the intensity of every play he made on the field, and to cheer him on (until the last year and then he wanted me to be more chill and do the thumbs up or just the hands in the air.)- Readers, it was some of the best moments of my life.

Not that what he chooses to do now


(Some dirt bike competition in Transylvania)

doesn't give me enjoyment and I love to see the skill set he has with his new sports- it's just something I can't explain.... maybe it's in my ability to be there and take it in like others. To have the strength to even get excited or bummed about it and not have it affect my cortisol levels due to long term prednisone in my body.......

(flying has always been what he's wanted to do. I know he will.)

Now I can sit in a chair and read a magazine or just look at the mountain that my boy skis down and tells me frequently he can't get enough of it!  I can't be there to watch him burst through fresh powder. Or make fresh lines early in the morning after a snow fall.

Kenny Chesney sings the song: The Boys of Fall- there will always be those boys; the ones that will don the hometown uniform for us to cheer them on to win to acknowledge all the sweat and rucking it that they paid to be ready for The Game.

 When I get better, I am gonna be in that stadium (I will start out slow with a TV version)- cheering on whoever happens to be wearing that Skyline helmet just because the thrill of watching "The Game."
The smell of their stinky locker room will flood my senses as the cool air, painted end zones, and "rabid fans", as J. calls them, go crazy while the parents sit in the chilled out section.

( our hearts are beating just as fast while we hold our breath just like we did when we were young)
And what I do now when J. grabs one of his helmets to go on a different adventure.
I hope that my fight helps give him the lift to get off the ground and take flight.