Reporting tonight from Strawberry Stadium with my friend Gretchen.
The Lions are behind the Cardinals at halftime 13-14 in a game that seems to be some kind of penalty-fest. It used to be that refs made calls – good or bad- and they stood. Now there’s replays, reviews and second-guessing that can change calls several times. The crowd hisses and boos with every change. It would almost seem that we should just all take a vote.
When I was in college, I kept the official scorebook in the press box above my head.
I never got to sit over with the students. Today’s students don’t turn out for the games. It’s sad. I would’ve given anything to be a fan in college. About this time of the night, I would’ve been passing out white bread ham sandwiches to the sportswriters in the box. There would be no visiting with friends in the stands. It would have to wait until I got to the bars afterwards.
I look around and see my contemporaries, graying at the temples if they have any hair at all, and I remember their glory days when we were the stars of the show. Who would’ve ever thought we’d be the old farts up in the stands? A couple sitting below me went to school with me, and the husband was the amazing running back whose rushing yardage I tallied all night long. Now, they sit and play with their grandchild and support the home team.
There’s something about being home that at once feels comforting and unnerving. We are so different than we were but we are all so much more ourselves after spending years trying on different roles with varying measures of success.
My friend Ray who was always a talker- a self-identified social butterfly – is still a talker especially when primed with a few adult beverages.
“The cool breeze comes in reminding me of football season and the best times of my life,” Ray said when I asked what he was thinking of the evening.
It’s fall. It reminds me of Kenny’s song, and I’ll leave you with that. http://youtu.be/ryheU9sHUe4