I attended my first ever football game last night. Yes, you read correctly. I have reached the middle of my years and never attended that most American of traditions … a football game. My highschool did not have a football team. We had basketball. And hockey. I think they have a football team now, but there is far more emphasis on soccer and cross-country running. We have a long-standing battle for the state championship cross-country running with LightHusband’s alma mater which dates back to when we were both in high school and he was running on their team. Yes, Vermont is a small state.
Football is quite a sub-culture. Interesting. I went because a good friend has two boys in the marching band. One of them is a senior and this was his last home game. She really wanted FlamingEwe and I to see them play. As it turned out they had a nice little ceremony honoring the seniors and their parents. It was well done and sweet.
In a moment of serendipity I also was treated to seeing some 20+ year friends who were there. One was my dear friend who had been the matron of honor in my wedding. We’ve fallen out of contact over the years because we’ve gotten so busy. So we had a few moments to catch up and trade contact information (and put it in our cell phones where we won’t lose it!!). She was there to see her sister’s son perform; the son is also a senior. I also know her sister very well as she married a man who was good friend’s with LightHusband from his days in The Old Guard Fife & Drum Corps. We were all good friends, quite the ratpack if you will. There were others too. MatronofHonor, PianoMan (her husband), DrumMajor, SkinnyFifer (Matron’s sister and DrumMajor’s wife), DrumsTooHard, and the list is long. We all ran together.
A moment came when the parents of all the seniors were asked to come down onto the field for the little ceremony. I looked across and saw DrumMajor rise from his seat in the bleachers. It’s important to this story that you know that he’s about 6’7″ … very tall. He’s my age, well older by a few months. And suddenly my dear friend looked old. His shoulders had a slight stoop to them. His hair is definitely more white now than anything. He didn’t move so smoothly at first. As he progressed he stood straighter and moved better, but those first few moments didn’t go so well.
At the same time, the cheerleaders were down on the field turning handsprings. And backflips. We called them backhandsprings when I was on the gymnastics team several hundred million years ago.
In my mind, I still know exactly how to do a backflip. Or a handspring. Or how to run up to the sidehorse and vault over it, flying for just a moment. In my mind’s eye, I can even bring on the sensation of those movements. But my body, ah well, my body would stage a mutiny at the first sign of an attempt. I understand that there are ways to get back into better shape, but as I watched DrumMajor progress down the bleachers last night, I really faced myself for a moment. It was hard. I wasn’t quite fearless. I don’t think I’ll ever do backflips again or sidehorse vaulting. Not that I’d want to necessarily, but I finally reached the moment when I admitted that I won’t. I can’t. It’s just not important.
