Dripping Life
In junior high and high school, I was on drill team (the old term for “dance team”). That meant early morning practices every August, beginning at 6 a.m. – before temperatures soared to noontime highs.
Every Friday night during football season, we dutifully spent the evening, cheering our team from the stands. Clearly, our team was less than mediocre. How many times did the drill team bus pull alongside on the way home, allowing us to notice how many of our gridiron heroes were red-eyed and sobbing over their loss.
By high school, sobbing gridders had lost their impact…and our empathy.
But winning – or mostly losing – isn’t the reason I’m writing.
After high school, I attended universities where football was a big deal. Dates to weekend football games were ideal for collegiate budgets. Tickets came with our student activity fees. Most frats had parties afterwards. All this amounted to a cheap date, with football as the main course.
Lo and behold, I married a high school football coach. Friday nights were all about football. No surprises there.
Both my sons attended Odessa Permian High School, a so-called football power back then -- and the school depicted in the book, “Friday Night Lights.” Although football was an insane priority in that West Texas town, we felt it healthier if neither son played…even tried out for the team.
Our oldest son was in the Panther Band and our youngest son was elected head cheerleader his senior year. Although definitely an honor, I was on edge his entire tenure since the two previous head cheerleaders had become baby-daddies before graduation. Fortunately, my son ended that disturbing trend. Needless to say, every fall Friday night was spent at the stadium.
After my husband retired, we were -- like Pavlov’s dogs -- in the stands every Friday night during season, watching high school football. It didn’t matter who was playing. We were definitely programmed to be there, enjoying the game, appreciating the hard work invested by coaches, players, band, cheerleaders and dance teams.
Then, when grandkids came along, at about age three, every Friday night each fall, we’d take them to a football game. Our routines were the same -- Wendy’s hamburgers before the game. At half-time, we’d move to the top of the stands for a perfect view of the half-time formations. Then, a stop by concessions for a half-time snack.
After my husband died, our granddaughter became a member of the Hi-Steppers and her younger brother, a four-year member of the Mighty Tiger Marching Band, so it’s not hard to guess where our family spent Friday nights each fall.
All of this leads up to why, after graduation two years ago, I’ve spent every fall Friday night, listening to Tiger Football on Radio Station KDRP -- yes, like they say, “Old habits die hard.”
After all these years, I’m hooked. I’ve probably attended more football games than the average sane Texan. During this time, I’ve collected some pet peeves. Here are a few:
1. I welcome you to our row of seating, but be sure and potty before coming to the stadium or hold it for half-time. Inevitably, rowmates need to go in perfect timing to be passing in front of me during the play of the game.
2. Don’t feel compelled to make more noise than the entire stadium combined. Kindly leave your air-horns and train whistles at home.
3. Do not throw water, using your water bottles as weapons. Most of us showered before we showed up.
4. Don’t stand at the front rail of the stands. More than likely, you’re blocking someone’s view.
5. Don’t try to make room for your 10 friends when there’s only space for four average-sized rear ends.
I’ll close by thanking the Tiger football team and coaching staff, Mr. Woods and his staff who design the DSHS band, Mrs. Neef and her team of dancers and directors and the DSHS cheerleaders and their sponsors for all the work, all the time and all the expense so that the rest of us can enjoy exciting fall Friday nights at the stadium under the lights.