My name is Eileen and I am forty-two years old and I still don’t understand football. There I said it. It feels good to get that off my big chest.
Forty-two years of trying. Sometimes even really trying. To understand this damn game. And still nothing.
I spent my twenties watching every single Chicago Bear’s game ever played. An entire decade devoted to a sport I don’t even like. An entire decade devoted to getting drunk on Sundays. But still nothing.
I always just skated by. Wearing the jerseys. Kitty-killing with my vodka Red Bulls. Getting in on the strip cards. Oh yeah, I was a real fan. Of loose fitting shirts, drinking, and gambling. Football, not so much.
Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t dislike football players. I am not blind. It doesn’t physically hurt my eyes to watch them. I enjoy a good tight end just like any gal. But besides all the muscle and the spandex, I really don’t pay attention, there’s nothing really drawing me in.
Up until then, everything in my life was totally fine. My secret was safe. I had everyone fooled.
Until I had kids. That played football. Boom..
In my defense, I thought I was going to have all girls. Girls who would be as interested in football about as much as I am. See, this is why I don’t make plans anymore. Because nothing ever turns out the way I planned it in my head. Or on pinterest.
But now I have kids that play. And I still have absolutely no clue what’s going on. I’ve tried. I’ve really half-ass tried to understand. But I just don’t get it.
And it turns out I just don’t care. Because there’s booze at those games too. And over sized jerseys to hide all of my summer indiscretions. And gambling. Yes even gambling.
A few weeks ago I was in the park from morning til night. Watching every football game the damn school had because I didn’t realize I have a kid involved on each team. Last year I had two kids on one team. This year I have three kids on three different teams.
I don’t even know how this is possible. I had these damn kids so close in age for this exact reason. So they’d all be on the same team.
If that sonofabitch Beau didn’t sneak off to put his feet up in stirrups to have his manhood sliced away, we would have had enough kids to field an entire GD team. And I’d only have one game to go to a weekend.
But no. I only have 4 kids. All on different teams. Thanks to Beau. Bless his freaking heart.
So as I sit here tonight and watch the Bears kill the Packers, in my living room with my bottle of wine, I will have peace in my heart. I have made amends with football. We don’t have to be besties and that’s okay. I will go on doing football my way and football can go on doing football it’s way.
The way life was meant to be lived.