First Game Seventh Grade
We had been looking forward to that first football game for the entire summer.
"We have three eighth graders, Mom."
"Umhun.", what is there to say about that...
"We will have to play up, Mom, and play eighth graders in football this year!"
"Oh, I see."
I wonder if that means our opponents will be better at the sport of hitting and running, they will have more experience, or they will just be bigger than our students. I am sure we will see.
The date comes closer, and the game date is changed. The game is to be played on Monday, not on Thursday, as planned.
Dianne offers to have snacks for the yunguns' of peanut butter sandwiches and water to give them energy, just $2. apiece. What a bargain. My kid is always hungry! By five p.m. he will be starved.
They finally get their practice uniforms, he is number 76, and brings home the outfit to wash on Thursday. I teach him how to wash it, hang it to dry for the weekend. If he is in Middle School, I think he can be responsible for his uniform!
Facebook message, how to get to the game. Good, explicit directions to the Lakota Plains Middle School.
I don't even need to mapquest. Weslee has an extra Saturday practice at nine am, and then a baseball practice at noon.
"I'm in the kick return with Jack!", he announces, and demonstrates the look into the air, the sway back and forth, the catch and the zoom down the field, and "TOUCHDOWN!" We wish....
He falls asleep early. I'm not surprised.
We get a message late that the location of the game has been changed, and I have to mapquest the new location, Neiberman Farm. I print out the information, and make sure I have a snack and a cool water. I wonder if there will be restrooms, I don't think there will be snack bar, probably no admission. I don't worry about money, but get my chair into the car. As I leave the house, it begins to rain.
I left plenty of time to get there. The directions say, one half hour, but I start driving, and it seems I am driving further and further and not getting there. I think I am lost, and still I am not there. I actually drive past the drive, it is just a dirt road. (Why do the signs face the road? We would have to stop the car to read them!!!) Sure enough, they charge $3 for parking, per person, and I have to rob the ash tray to pay up. Embarrassing. I park and see the field to the left, to the back a large white barn, a large farm house, I hear hens and cows mooing. I smell cow fertilizer. I see the large double field with goal posts. I walk toward the field, and head to sit closest the port-o-lets. There is a large stone archway in the distance, signed "Jerusalem" and three wooden crosses right behind the potties. I believe I can decipher the thinking of the farm owners. The rope along which I walk is signed, "Please respect our privacy and do not cross this rope". Christmas lights are still in place, as I see the outline of Poinsettias, a large tree, and a garland of lights strung across the trees.
As the players warm up their voices echo stridently across the fields, first the Wildcats, counting to ten, 'WILDCATS', and after they conclude, the Stallions with their warm-ups, shouting 'STALLIONS' loudly. Our Cheer leaders are doing a great job, quite improved from last year, look just like the high schoolers they wish to emulate.
I decide I will move across the field, and sit next to the other parents supporting the Wildcats. It was great seeing our guys play, hold the Stallions from moving the ball any yards. We made touch down after touch down. Won 42 to nothing. And it rained a bit, and we still played.
I liked seeing the Cheer leaders scream, run for non-existent shelter, and just stand in the rain, after all.
And then there was a beautiful rainbow, over the arch of Jerusalem, the three wooden crosses, and the Christmas lights.
Isn't that God's promise of something?
"We have three eighth graders, Mom."
"Umhun.", what is there to say about that...
"We will have to play up, Mom, and play eighth graders in football this year!"
"Oh, I see."
I wonder if that means our opponents will be better at the sport of hitting and running, they will have more experience, or they will just be bigger than our students. I am sure we will see.
The date comes closer, and the game date is changed. The game is to be played on Monday, not on Thursday, as planned.
Dianne offers to have snacks for the yunguns' of peanut butter sandwiches and water to give them energy, just $2. apiece. What a bargain. My kid is always hungry! By five p.m. he will be starved.
They finally get their practice uniforms, he is number 76, and brings home the outfit to wash on Thursday. I teach him how to wash it, hang it to dry for the weekend. If he is in Middle School, I think he can be responsible for his uniform!
Facebook message, how to get to the game. Good, explicit directions to the Lakota Plains Middle School.
I don't even need to mapquest. Weslee has an extra Saturday practice at nine am, and then a baseball practice at noon.
"I'm in the kick return with Jack!", he announces, and demonstrates the look into the air, the sway back and forth, the catch and the zoom down the field, and "TOUCHDOWN!" We wish....
He falls asleep early. I'm not surprised.
We get a message late that the location of the game has been changed, and I have to mapquest the new location, Neiberman Farm. I print out the information, and make sure I have a snack and a cool water. I wonder if there will be restrooms, I don't think there will be snack bar, probably no admission. I don't worry about money, but get my chair into the car. As I leave the house, it begins to rain.
I left plenty of time to get there. The directions say, one half hour, but I start driving, and it seems I am driving further and further and not getting there. I think I am lost, and still I am not there. I actually drive past the drive, it is just a dirt road. (Why do the signs face the road? We would have to stop the car to read them!!!) Sure enough, they charge $3 for parking, per person, and I have to rob the ash tray to pay up. Embarrassing. I park and see the field to the left, to the back a large white barn, a large farm house, I hear hens and cows mooing. I smell cow fertilizer. I see the large double field with goal posts. I walk toward the field, and head to sit closest the port-o-lets. There is a large stone archway in the distance, signed "Jerusalem" and three wooden crosses right behind the potties. I believe I can decipher the thinking of the farm owners. The rope along which I walk is signed, "Please respect our privacy and do not cross this rope". Christmas lights are still in place, as I see the outline of Poinsettias, a large tree, and a garland of lights strung across the trees.
As the players warm up their voices echo stridently across the fields, first the Wildcats, counting to ten, 'WILDCATS', and after they conclude, the Stallions with their warm-ups, shouting 'STALLIONS' loudly. Our Cheer leaders are doing a great job, quite improved from last year, look just like the high schoolers they wish to emulate.
I decide I will move across the field, and sit next to the other parents supporting the Wildcats. It was great seeing our guys play, hold the Stallions from moving the ball any yards. We made touch down after touch down. Won 42 to nothing. And it rained a bit, and we still played.
I liked seeing the Cheer leaders scream, run for non-existent shelter, and just stand in the rain, after all.
And then there was a beautiful rainbow, over the arch of Jerusalem, the three wooden crosses, and the Christmas lights.
Isn't that God's promise of something?
Comments
Post a Comment