I’m a football fan. I do have a couple favorite teams, but most of all, I am a fan of good football. As we watched the LA Rams take on the Minnesota Vikings the other night for their place in the playoffs, I started thinking about how much I like to watch games. This one was especially poignant as the Rams played their hearts out to support the people and area of Los Angeles, some of which has burned to the ground and some that remains in terrible danger of fire, with lives, homes, businesses and livelihoods lost and firefighters exhausted. I am always entertained by seeing shots of the crowds, with true fanatic fans in their game-day garb, holding up signs and hoping for the best for their teams. This game was no exception, with fans holding signs “LA Strong” and lots in support of the fire-beleaguered area. 

Football is not a game I ever wanted to play, but it has been part of my life for decades. At the start of my fandom, I played in the Newport High School marching band. Not only were our “boys” on the field stars, but we in the marching band took great pride in representing our school and our community. We weathered some weather with rain and snowflakes dampening our spirits a bit, but I was pretty proud to cheer from the sidelines and then march onto the field at halftime to entertain the crowd. I was a drummer, not very common for a female in those days, and was an accepted member of the cut-up crew in the drumline that was almost always pranking or joking in the back of the band room. It was a wonderful time in my life, those football games, as we boarded a bus to travel to opposing teams’ fields and cuddled with boyfriends or fooled with friends. But when we marched onto those fields with our wool uniforms with school colors and our silly hats and well-kept instruments we had been practicing with for weeks in our choreographed shows, there were some nerves and some angst lest we make a misstep, played the wrong cadence or hit a wrong note, and there was also whole lot of personal pride and “community” in what we were doing. 

When a college kid, I attended every football and hockey game I could at the university, enjoying the crowd and my friends in our college fanatic frenzy as much as I did the games. There’s nothing quite like a football game to bring out the fanatic in the fans. Crazy costumes, “white outs” or “blue outs” with our school colors, hand-made signs, chants, jeers and cheers, voices lost and weather weathered … fall football was a sacred part of my college days. Between college and the football days of our son, we spent lots of time at homecoming games for our university and visits to Dartmouth College to enjoy games with our kids. Then high school football took on important event status as our son played his heart out on the field and helped lead his (and my) high school alma mater to a state championship. 

We were laughing the other night as we watched the Rams and the Vikings hit the field as they did their little nervous pre-game dances as the National Anthem was sung … just like the high school boys did on the sidelines decades ago and today. Some things never change, it seems.  

In her last few years when she lived with us, my mother even started enjoying the sport. I don’t think Mom really enjoyed watching the sport itself, but it was the time spent as a family she found enjoyable. I guess that’s what football is to me, too, more about those around me sharing the experience, the opportunity to gather in a community, the time with family and friends than it is the game itself. The remembrances of fast friends and good times on the sidelines, the pride of past accomplishments and fun, and the plain old fun of rooting for a team. The teamwork, the dynamics, the strategies, the pain of losing and the sheer joy of winning. Football. Just a few games to watch ‘til the professional season ends, but there is still hockey, basketball and baseball coming, so give fandom a try if you haven’t before. But make sure you have some friends or family with you to enjoy the experience.