Out of My Element

My son James had his last regular-season football game today. (Now playoffs begin!) James really loves football. I, on the other hand, have no idea what football is all about. I enjoy watching James play, and appreciate his enthusiasm for the game, but personally, I don't "get it."

At games and practices, as I stand on the sidelines with other parents, when the ball is snapped and the play begins, they'll all start shouting, "Wrap it!" or "Fill the gap!" or, before anything on the field even moves, "Watch number 32...he's going long!" How do they know number 32 is going long, short, or sideways when nobody's moved a muscle? What does "wrap it" mean, and why does it need to be wrapped? I never even saw a gap that needed to be filled!

At today's game, something happened (I'm not even sure what), and the ref began to move the ball towards our goal line, as though we had committed some sort of penalty. You should have heard our parents begin to shout, not to mention our coaches! But what was amazing was this: Our parents were shouting something about it being a "dead ball," which they had "declined" and so, no yardage was required of us. The refs actually listened to our parents, held a mini conference in the middle of the field, decided the parents were correct, and left the ball where it was. The refs changed the call after our parents pointed out their error!

My point? These people really know their football.

Now, I can tell a Partita from a Polonaise in a flash. I can recognize the difference between Beethoven and Mozart with little difficulty. But "declining a dead ball" and telling the refs their business? In this element, I'm lost!

So here's where I'm going. In this particular football league, if you want out of volunteer duty, you have to pay a fee. I declined to pay the fee (because I'm cheap), so today was my "dancing day."

Today was my day to be a member of the "chain gang." No, I wasn't impersonating Cool Hand Luke. I was the guy on the sidelines who holds the posts marking the ten yards necessary to gain a first down. (Did I describe that correctly?)

Now imagine this. A school headmaster, a musician, who knows nothing of the calculus of football, required to measure the length of ground necessary for each team to gain a first down, down to the inch, and all of these parents, who know the rules better than the referees, watching me, occasionally screaming "Straighten the chain!" because my poorly-measured inch was jeopardizing the play. To make matters worse, every quarter, in the middle of the play, they'd change the direction of the field! So, if our team was originally going in this direction, all of a sudden we had to turn everything around and go in that direction.

I was so lost, so nervous, and so clueless, I felt like a duck out of water. No, I felt like a missionary at a cannibal convention! Totally out of place!

Fortunately for me, the guy at the other end of the chain was one of "those dads." You know, the ones who know the rules better than the refs. He was constantly telling the players what to do, offering his opinion to the coach, that the ref finally warned him, "One more word out of you, and I'll throw you out of this game!" I had no idea what I was doing, but by keeping my mouth shut and my eyes and ears open, I kept out of the ref's eyesight and out of trouble. I actually looked like I knew what I was doing!

I gained a greater appreciation for the game today. I always thought that, once the ball was snapped, you just tried to stop it from getting down field. But after today, I realized that there really is a sort of calculus going on down there. I gained a greater appreciation for the coaches and all they've got to manage. But most importantly...

I gained a greater appreciation for my son James who, at 11 years old, seems to really understand all of this.