Football and the family

This weekend I went to Las Vegas with Ty and Matt. Matt’s a friend from our last ward and is now roommates with Ty and D$. Ty was my roommate last year and before that we were roommates in the dorms the year after my mission (which was the year before his).

“He was the best star-pilot in the galaxy, and a cunning warrior... And he was agood friend.”

I met Ty while on my mission. I served in his home ward in my second to last area. We became roommates when we both showed up to BYU in the winter of 2000. I had just gotten home from my mission and he had just finished a semester off of school to work after his highschool graduation. We recognized each other at a meeting for football walk-on hopefuls (both our hopes fizzled when the team cut us without ever even seeing us play). Ironically we were in the same dorm building. I didn’t have a roommate and he hated his, so we just arranged to have him move down to room with me.

“Wonderful! We are now a part of the tribe.”
“Great, just what I always wanted.”

Since then, I’ve gotten to know everyone in Ty’s family a lot more than I did on my mission, as they’ve involved me in just about every family activity. It’s funny to think that I met this family while on my mission, because I don’t really think of my relationship to them as having anything to do with being a missionary. The cumulative experiences I’ve had with them includes going to his brothers’ scout camp, watching fourth of July fireworks with his nephews, attending his sister’s student ward, eating his older brother’s unreal rib dinners, and meeting up with his parents for meals out. Looking back on the past six years, I think I’ve spent nearly as much time with the Lewis family as I have with the Bryants.

“No, he’s from Cali-FORN-ia!”

The Lewises attend the Tahoe North Ward in the Reno Nevada North Stake, but they live in Truckee California. Truckee is right off of Interstate 80, about 15 minutes west of the California, Nevada state line. I’m not trying to teach a geography lesson here, but the whereabouts of Truckee just adds some irony when taken into consideration that this weekend the Wolverines of Truckee, California were playing in the Nevada 3A State football championship.

The Moapa fans were awfully loud during all the pre-game warm ups and up until the opening kick off, but after the touchback Truckee drove 80 yards and scored a touchdown on their opening possession. That shut the opposite sideline up pretty well. Then to further the damage, the Truckee defense held Moapa’s offense to three and out. Then after a punt that placed truckee at midfield, the Wolverines’ first play from scrimmage was a 50-yard pass down the left side line for a touchdown. We didn’t hear much from the other team or their fans the rest of the night.

“I'm afraid we haven't properly house-broken Ms. Kyle. In the plus column, though, she makes a helluva cup of coffee.”

Although there were only eight of them, the Truckee cheerleaders proved to be extremely annoying. I’ve never really appreciated cheerleaders at any sporting event. Well, I take that back—in high school the football team would get together on Monday’s to watch game film, and between plays the camera operator would zoom in on the cheerleaders’ butts—which made the usually boring film session quite enjoyable, but other than their aesthetic appeal (of which the lady Wolverines were lacking), I don’t see why they’re there.

I think it’s safe to assume that in ancient times, the original purpose of cheerleaders was to rally the crowd. A loud crowd can be a real help to a team. At Texas A&M the crowd is so loud that they call themselves the 12th man. Well, it’s not that the Truckee crowd was quiet, but those who understand football understand that there are times during the game where the crowd can either help or hinder its team.

“You’re what the French call, ‘l'incompétent’.”

Third down is a crucial down in football. If the offense prevails, their drive is extended another 4 downs, if the offense is stopped they’ll likely be forced to punt, giving the ball and the opportunity to score in their opponent’s hands. A wise crowd will hush when their offense faces a third down—that way their quarterback’s call from the line of scrimmage can be heard by the rest of the offense, and visa versa, the crowd will erupt with noise when their defense faces a third down—in an attempt to hinder any calls the opposing quarterback might make. When the Truckee offense faced third down, those bone-headed cheerleaders would start their idiotic ra-ra-ra’s, and when the defense faced third downs they simply stood in formation with their pom-poms held behind their backs.

“The force can have a strong influence on the weak minded.”

Since it was clear that the cheerleaders were more interested in reciting their rote chants than in invigorating the crowd, Ty, Dustin and I took it upon ourselves to coach that 12th man. When Truckee’s offense faced third downs, despite the chum-for-brains cheerleaders’ attempts to rouse the crowd, the three of us would stand up and motion to the crowd to silence themselves. And when the Wolverine’s defense lined up for a third down snap we’d jump to our feet hollering at the crowd to get off their duffs and make some ruckus to distract the offense. And the masses in red obeyed us like a well disciplined orchestra at the wand of its maestro, brilliantly responding to the call for a crescendo here or a decrescendo there. And it worked perfectly—our crowd was like the children of Israel at the wall of Jericho, and the goliath’s across the field we’re as mute as poor old Zachariah, before he named his son John the Baptist.

“For Michigan fans, football is a religion. And the Ohio State game is Easter.”

Football is a religion, why else do you think, so many show up to NFL stadiums across their country every Sunday to pay their respects? Like any religion, a father is proud to see his son advance in the ways of manhood. The emotion in Papa Lewis’s face made that obvious. With Saturday night’s win, each of his sons has been part of a state championship team. Both Ty’s parents have given up all of their time for the past 12 years to Truckee football, and it was evident by how many people at the game new them. Seeing it all made me miss my days of high school football and look forward with eagerness for the day I might have a son play for his school.

On the drive back from Vegas Matt slept while Ty and I discussed all the things we’ve learned from football and even talked about how we might react if we were to have a son who didn’t want to play. For me growing up, I never questioned whether I’d play football, my dad played football, we watched football together, and we played catch all the time. When I turned out for the team, from day one I felt like I belonged —there was no adjusting period like there is when you start a new job, or move into a new neighborhood. Me and football—we just fit. And although I loved the game, the comradery, the competition, and the occasional glory, my greatest thrills came from seeing the joy on my dad's face, or hearing my mom talk about how he grinned from ear to ear when I made one great play or another.

“I'm not a child!”
“You're MY child!”

If I had a son who refused to play football, I hope I’d react in the same way I’d want to react to a son or daughter who didn’t agree with my (other) religious beliefs. I’d respect their decision, but it would be quite an exercise in unconditional love. I know it wouldn’t be too big a deal, because I’ll love my children more than I love either of my religions—but, wow—I love football A LOT, so having and loving kids will be unbelievable!

“Roz, I'm going to tell you something that I didn't learn until I became a father. You don't just love your children. You fall in love with them.”