Tonight, around 8:00, Brother returned home with Dad from his very first night of football conditioning. He trudged in the house, soaked with sweat, mud and rain... his shoulders drooped and his skin was flushed. This was a kid who had been through the wringer. He moved like he was sore, and the little twinges in his expression only backed the claim.

My heart went out to him. I tenderly touched his arm, and asked- fully expecting the worst: "How was it out there, kiddo?"

And I kid you not, that child changed his persona so fast!! His eyes got all glittery and he smiled like Santa just left him a big fat inheritence.

"It rocked!!!" With that, he took a mighty swig of his Gatorade and waltzed into the den to play that same dirty trick on my mother. What a faker! What a sneak! Fooling me into thinking he'd experienced hell on earth for the past two hours... oooh he knew what he was doing.

If I've told him once, I've told him a thousand times... you have to play it out awhile before you turn on 'em.

Have these kids learned nothing from me??

While he attempts to swindle the innocent, I get his plate ready for dinner.  The next several moments after he returns to eat are filled with nothing but high energy chatter- what the coaches were like, how soft the field was in the rain, how no, Jess- there were no guys your age.

Grrrrrr.  Is there no luck in the world?

Inbetween enthusiastic chewing, Brother continues to regale the rest of the family with his descriptions of the exercises a want-to-be football player is expected to do.  They all sound relatively normal, push-ups, sprinting, sit-ups... until I hear:

"And then we did this really neat one.  You have to stand up straight and then the coaches blow a whistle and you slam your chest hard into the ground!"

All of the women in the family collectively groan, and place a protective arm across their breasts.  I mean, is it any wonder girls don't play football? 

I know that I, for one, do not feel inclined to perform a self-imposed mammogram right there on the damn field.  Who comes up with these exercises anyway?? 

No woman would ever consider heaving her assets into the earth at lightning speed.  So what smart man decided that this should be practiced?? 

And furthermore, what made him think that it would be a good idea to inflict bodily harm on the team before the game even starts??

Maybe it's just me, but that seems a little counterproductive.

 

I like your way of writing, but have to ask... ever followed, I mean really folowed female football? I didn't know before moving here that Norway has one of the best female teams in the world. And no... I like football but am still not totally into the female part. Still, what your brother sais... I see no reason why you should feel provoced. Men and women are different, that is a fact. It's not a problem if you can accept...

Thanks for your comment, Mar... though I must tell you- (and I understand the possible confusion) that I was writing about American football, also known as Gridiron. I realized after reading your comment that you probably read this and interpreted 'football' to be Association Football, which we call soccer here. And as far as soccer goes- I am quite aware of the amazing female athletes in the game. However, you'll find that the football we play here in the United States is not a sport typically attempted by women. Thought I'd clear this up... thanks a lot for the comment though. And the compliment too- much appreciated

Wow, that last exercise made me cringe! Now I happen to love playing tackle football (in full padding although it's usually WAY too small, being my friend's little brother's and all) but that is just too much:o

it has the same tune evrey time.:(