Sep. 11: Football game #1

Okay, okay. Jack’s first football game was not as excruciatingly painful as I had anticipated. Did I enjoy myself? Not for a second. But I didn’t whine and moan and act like a mom who didn’t want to be there, and for that I think I deserve a prize of some kind. Like a Grammy. Yes, I think a Grammy would be totally appropriate. I’ve always wanted one. This may be my only chance.

Here’s Proud Dad, showing off Baby’s First Football Jersey. Let’s hope that pride wears off before he demands pictures of Baby’s First Jockstrap and Baby’s First Groin Pull. I do think the jersey’s pretty cool, though, and was a little disappointed that Jack didn’t get to wear his for the game today. Since every player in the league has the same jersey, one team in each game always wears their league T-shirts and the others wear the jerseys.

I know you would be suspicious that I was not actually the author behind this post if I let THAT stupid league decision go by without commentary. Yes, the league geniuses gave EVERY PLAYER the same color jersey. Brilliant, I tell you. Brilliant.

So, this what my little footballer looked like on the field today:

That is, he looked like that when he wasn’t watching the other game or running toward the wrong endzone or playing with his cute little belt.

In one play, Jack hiked the ball:

 

He looked all important. I was proud. But then I wasn’t so much. Because I admit that I don’t know much about football, but I’m pretty sure the center isn’t supposed to just stand there after he hikes the ball:

See that guy in the Montana sweatshirt who should be going up to Jack right now and reminding him that he could be doing something besides just standing there? He’s Jack’s coach. He’s really great—gets the kids motivated, but isn’t a jackass. The opposing team’s coaches were obviously kicked out of the NFL for making players cry; I did not like them one bit. Here’s a picture of the one I called Coach Pinkie Ring:

The blurriness of the photo—I wasn’t intentionally pointing the camera at him; he’s in the background of a cute Jack pic—makes him look kinda rugged and handsome, but I assure you he was a wannabe and one of the biggest assholes on the field. He yelled at the boys nonstop, and it pissed me off. At one point I saw him shake his clipboard and scream to a kid, “You BETTER make a play on this one.” WTF???

Most of the boys had never played a game of football before today; I think a bit of patience is called for here. I’m sayin’ something next time, you can bet your embarrassed-to-know-me ass. It was ridiculous. If our coach had done that, after the game I would’ve found a way to go up and introduce myself while accidentally kicking him in the nuts 12 times. Oops! Clumsy me! And leave my kid alone!

Some boys in the league are going to learn the rules of football and good sportsmanship this year. The boys on Coach Pinkie Ring’s team are going to learn how to go home and cut themselves to deal with their humiliation. Oh yeah, this is what all eight-year-olds are supposed to learn in team sports.

Yup, I can hardly wait for next Saturday. Vic would be wise to make my morning coffee Irish if he wants me to keep my mouth shut during the game.