When my eldest son, Jake, entered high school as a freshman, he announced that he wanted to join the football team. Little did I know that once he held that pigskin, he would be hooked for life. As a rookie football mom, I was blissfully unaware of the all-consuming passion that is high school football.
I naively thought practices would consist of simply running around in a helmet, performing straightforward drills that he would intuitively master after lacing up his first pair of cleats. I couldn’t have been more mistaken.
Most parents know that team sports can be pricey, but nothing prepared me for my initial shopping spree for gear. I thought all we needed were shoes since the school provided protective equipment. Wrong! That first year, we made multiple trips to the sporting goods store for a back plate, socks, ankle braces, mouthguard, gloves, and something my son referred to as a “girdle.” Now, I know to stock up on ramen noodles and mac and cheese every July before facing the cash register at the sporting goods store. Oh, Sports Authority, how you tease me with, “Would you like cash back?” As if I’ll have any left after my visit.
After grappling with the financial aspects, I quickly learned about the time commitment involved. Early season practices stretched from noon to 8 p.m. Imagine packing enough food for a teenager who eats every 15 minutes during an 8-hour practice filled with full contact, conditioning, and weight training! This must be how food trucks came about; an exhausted football mom, tired of cramming 50 pounds of snacks into a cooler, just decided it would be easier to transfer everything from the fridge into a mobile truck. Alongside practices, we had fundraisers, rallies, booster meetings, and of course, the iconic Friday night games. It felt like a part-time job where you actually pay to work.
However, once my credit card cooled down, we embraced the routine. Over three seasons, we transformed into a full-fledged “football family,” complete with matching shirts featuring Jake’s number and homemade signs for every Thursday night game. It was all in good fun, but I didn’t fully appreciate its significance until recently.
Last week, Jake suffered a spinal injury during our school’s most important game of the season against our biggest rival—a team we hadn’t beaten in over a decade. In the fourth quarter, while we were ahead, he staggered off the field, removed his helmet, and collapsed on the grass. As trainers rushed to help him, the game continued. I could see the shift in the other players; it was personal now. They had to finish the game for him.
By the time the final whistle blew, Jake was on a gurney waiting for an ambulance. All 45 teammates rushed over, kneeling beside him, holding his hand while declaring, “We did it! We won! We finished the game for you!” Watching those strong teenage boys come together, tears streaming down their faces, was a moment I’ll never forget. As the ambulance pulled away, the entire stadium erupted in cheers for him. I heard the paramedic tell Jake, “Wow, do you hear that? You’re a rock star, man!” I couldn’t help but tear up.
Later that night, when his coaches visited him in the hospital, I reflected on the lessons he was learning through football: discipline, respect, accountability, and most importantly, loyalty. These are the invaluable takeaways that no one mentions during that first parent meeting—lessons that will follow them throughout life.
Fortunately, Jake’s injury was not serious, and he’ll be back on the field this weekend. We’ll be in the stands, rain or shine, proudly displaying our signs and wearing our matching shirts, but now with a deeper appreciation—not just for my son, but for his football brothers, too. I’ve come to cherish these boys of fall.
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In summary, my journey as a football mom has been filled with unexpected expenses, time commitments, and invaluable life lessons. The experience has transformed not just my son, but our entire family, teaching us all about teamwork and resilience.