Football Wisdom

My son has been playing football since he was old enough to walk. I have photos of him toting a little football around when he was just old enough to think he could outrun me. Silly toddler. He played baseball and a little basketball over the years, too, but football was the love. Being a sports family, as opposed to, say, a music, collectibles, or electronics family, the calendar year was full of game schedules, concession stand sign-ups, and trips to the sports equipment store. Watching other families and having some previous experience with an older kid who played, I carefully constructed a few strategic rules in an attempt to survive it all while holding down a full-time job and being snack mom extraordinaire. Of course I was met with opposition, but y’all know I won.

First up, flag football until middle school, then tackle football. Yeah, I know tackle starts young, but there was no reason. We’re not going to get burned out or seriously injured before our time, plus he wore glasses and we weren’t about to do contact lenses a minute before middle school. Look, I have my reasons, ok? Another strategic rule? You can play as many sports as you like but they may not overlap. We’re not running from one game to another four nights a week for weeks on end. Sanity is important. Also, no travel ball. Stay your happy behind home, do your homework at a reasonable hour, and have some mercy on the household budget. That’s it. Pretty simple. And, I’d say, it paid off. We all survived, and were able to actually enjoy (most of) it.

He played Parks and Rec baseball and football, private league basketball until he was in the sixth grade. Then he learned to do his own laundry. Flag football and little league baseball uniforms were bad enough on me, but when it came time for tackle football uniform laundering, it was his turn. Mom’s done. Ewww. And it only got worse as he careened through high school. You see, there’s a very certain and special funk to football stink. Has to do with the grass. It’s unique in its essence, for sure. And all the football moms said, “Amen.”

Anyway, to the point of this droll. When the Kid was a Junior in high school, he started a new school in a new city. It was great. New team, new friends, new coaches, new everything. Just what the doctor ordered. His new head football coach, Coach Kinard, was a delightful man, full of words of truth for his young charges. You see, he meant he was going to help the parents raise up fine young men, not just good football players. He was constantly instilling lessons of character into our boys and expecting a higher standard of behavior, on and off the field. He and the entire coaching staff spent countless hours investing heavily into the boys and cut them no slack. The Kid was constantly coming home with sayings, quotes, stories, and the like, often times making me think about the “lesson of the day.”

But there was one that has stuck with me for years now. It hit hard. And has continued to. It challenged me to my core, still does, still keeps me in check. Motivates me beyond belief. And that motivation keeps this train on its tracks. It is non-negotiable.

“Feed your pride or feed your family.”

Let that one sink in for a minute. It’s a toe stomper for sure.

It’s also a heavy one to lay on high schoolers, but Coach did it anyway. He knew that even if they didn’t have full scope of understanding then, they would one day. The parents hopefully, too.

Think about it for yourself. What does it mean in your world? What is your definition of pride, feeding family, feeding pride, and the choice to do one over the other? How do you reconcile that statement to your actions? How do you know you’re doing it well? What do you do if you realize you aren’t?

I chew on this one often, and have to make sure things don’t collide. There’s a fine line in there and it’s easy to tip over. So, thanks, Coach Kinard, for such a simple yet profound life statement. You’ve affected more than just your players.