By Rosie Preston
I will tell you right away that my husband is an Alabama fan. I come from a long line of Alabama fans, and I am experienced with the excitement of a game. From a woman’s point of view, or at least this woman’s point of view, I must tell you that I have a hard time relating to the BIGNESS from year to year of what it is going to take to have a winning team. I listen very carefully as my husband, my son and their friends talk about the players – what their reputation is, how they played in high school and what they’re expected to do for the team.
Their opinion on the Alabama coach is always serious (I believe there’s been several since Bear Bryant). I bite my tongue and wonder as I try to compare this sport with one of the sports I’ve played, which is softball. I was a pitcher on a girls’ softball team in high school. I can tell you that my dad hung a tire on a tree for me to pitch through, and no matter how many times I would ring it, there were other times that I would miss. No matter how much I wanted to play and win a game, I still had to hope and pray that when the ball left my hand it would be one of those good throws.
So, I take all this together and imagine how it would feel to be a football player, especially with those huge players coming at me as I’m trying to throw a ball, along with the fact that the field may be wet or dry and it may be a windy day and that one of the other players may be getting grabbed as someone on my team is trying to catch my ball.
To tell you the truth, I just can’t imagine playing football.
To me, a good game is when the score is close. A bad game is when the score is something like 50 to 0. But when the score is 21 to 14, I think both teams played extremely well.
So, my friends, I don’t think about the mistakes made or the referee’s decisions or the firing of a coach. I truly admire the guys who get out there and keep going and going. Most of all, I feel for the parents, especially if their son is the one who “made a mistake” or “didn’t do what everyone knows he can do.” I feel their pain. But that’s life, and it’s just a game. Hasn’t it been said that it’s not if you win or lose it’s how you play the game?
My husband is quite the character when Alabama is playing. I’ve witnessed him throwing his arms up in the air and yelling as his recliner turned over and the back hit the floor after Alabama scored a touchdown.
I’m hoping that my husband won’t read this. He’ll never know his secret is out, and unlike the real players and coaches, he has no one else to blame and must clean up his mess himself, which include chips, dip, and sweet tea. It wasn’t a pretty sight, but the unexpected never is.
That is why I think football should be just a fun game. Let the chips fall as they may and let players be proud that they made the team! Let the fans pat each other on the back and say, “great game,” and then go home and kick back in their recliners and drink sweet tea. Because if we knew who the winner was going to be before the game was played, what fun would that be? Not knowing what’s going to happen next is the very thing that keeps the fans and players pumped up.
Or is it turned over?
The journaling book is in progress, so send your stories to rosie.preston@yahoo.com.
