My girl on the gridiron

I never thought I would see the day when I would be saying, "I am going to my daughter's first football game."

I knew a lot of other people who were saying that but in my case there was a difference. They were going to watch their daughters lead cheers. My little girl was gonna play football!

When she first brought home the permission slip I didn't know how to react. The only time I ever spent on a football field was with the marching band drumline at half time. I asked her if she was sure she really wanted to play football. This was sandlot football, after all. Not flag football or "powderpuff " league. Actual tackling would occur. She was quite sure of her intentions. I convinced myself that fractures build character and agreed to let her play.

When I went to sign her up, the well-meaning recreation department person said, "What's your son's name?"

I said, "It's my daughter."

"Is she cheerleading?"

"Uh ... no."

There were other girls in line. She wasn't exactly setting a precedent. But she is the only girl on her particular team. And loving every minute of it.

I shouldn't be surprised. Football played a big part in my household growing up. My brother was the star athlete. All-State linebacker and two-time MVP. Football season was our High Holy Days. Every Friday night was spent sitting on cold bleachers. And Lord help us if they lost the game that night. He took it VERY seriously. I dared not say, "Cheer up! It's only a game." I wouldn't have lived to see another Friday.

Despite the early football exposure, I didn't pick up any usable knowledge.

Many years later I enlisted my best friend in helping me understand this sport. We sat down to a televised game and I soon learned the concepts of "downs" and "rushing." Sadly, I had forgotten all these things when my daughter decided that fall soccer would give way to tossing the pigskin.

At the age of 10 she already knows more about the sport than I do. My ignorance truly amazed her when I confused offense with defense. I thought the defense carried the ball. Hey, they're defending the ball, right? That was my pitiful argument.

Thus far she gets to play equal amounts of offense and defense. She originally wanted to play center but the coach had to delicately try to explain that being center was off-limits to girls. She didn't understand why so she asked me to expound. Typically clueless, I had to rely on my sports-savvy co-worker for the answer.

He reminded me how the quarterback must firmly position his hands between the center's straddle to receive the hike. My mind raced back to 7th grade P.E. and to the coach showing us the fundamentals of football. I also recalled the nervous jitters we endured when we played quarterback and had to plant our hands securely in the center's nether-regions. No wonder I blanked this stuff out.

Ultimately, I agreed that I'd rather not have a quarterback, even a pre-pubescent one, parking his mitts on her like that.

Her first game was last Saturday. It was actually a lot of fun to watch. More than I ever expected. I saw lots of old friends and we all reveled in watching our kids smacking each other down! They probably would have enjoyed the game much more if I wasn't asking so many questions.

"How did they get those last 2 points? They made a safety? What does THAT mean?"

It's okay now. My daughter explained it all to me on the way home.