Where’s your uniform is a phrase that’s been spoken at our house for the last 14 years on almost a daily basis. Between school uniforms and football uniforms we figure that our washing machine has washed in excess of 5000 loads of clothes over the last 10 years. This doesn’t take in to account the clothes for my Wife and I. This is a conservative estimate as all 3 of my sons played sports and went to schools that required some sort of uniform. I wish I had a dime for every new product we tried that guaranteed to get the uniforms stain and stink free, as I would be writing this article from my condo on a beach that I purchased with this new found wealth. The LG front load washer and dryer that washed all of these clothes is humming in the background as I write this and still runs like the day we bough them.
Like most on this forum, I could write volumes on all my kids, as they have all done well as they made the journey into adulthood, but today I write about my youngest son and his journey to the 5A state Championship game in the Super Dome on December 9th. When my youngest son was 4 years old he started playing organized football and has played for 13 of the last 14 years, which brings us to this year, his senior year. For anyone out there that has played the game, or had kids who played the game, you know the type of dedication it takes to play football. At each level as they get older, it becomes more serious and the pressure to perform is tremendous. My son plays on the offensive line (Right Guard / 6’ 2*, 265 lbs )which arguably is the most important part of the offense, but also one of the most thankless. As goes the offensive line, so goes the offense. Except for the parents of the O line, no one ever cheers for them. If a running back scores or a quarterback throws a touchdown the attention is focused on them as an individual and it should be, but truth be told none of those fantastic plays can be accomplished unless the O line is doing its job. The O line plays every play, there is no down time for them. Ankles, knees, and elbows are always hurt. Bruises the size of softballs are the norm, and so are cuts and gashes to every exposed part of their body. It is a brutal, vicious fight that replays itself every play.
As my wife watched him enter the front door every day after practice, it was like watching a doctor waiting for their patient to arrive. Ice, hot baths, and epsom salt can cure damn near any aches and pain, well at least long enough for him to eat, do his homework, and then go to bed. Then, after the treatments came the clothes. If there was one job that was more thankless than the O line it was the uniform washer aka *Mom*. These boys would be lost without them. They are nurses, maids, psychologist, and cheerleaders all rolled into one. As goes the moms, so goes the football player.
This season was suppose to a rebuilding year for my sons team. They had a new coach, they had lost a lot of players from the year before, and truth be told they didn’t have that one guy on the team that could carry them with pure talent. If anything was going to happen this season it was going to be carved out of pure hard work and the will to win. The season was long and the team struggled at times but the players worked hard on both sides of the ball and scratched out a winning season. Our defense found its stride near the end of the season and for the first time you could feel that the team walked a little prouder and had that confidence that a team needs to win. The offense came around also and when key players were not hurt they could put up enough points to keep us in the game and then they let the defense do its thing.
The word finally came down on who our opponent would be for the first playoff game and that’s where the run began.
To make a very long story short we had a fantastic run and wound up winning the state championship in the Dome a few weeks ago. We had to beat the number one team in the state in the semi final game on their home field in Shreveport and then two weeks later we met up with the number two team in the state and beat them in there back yard which is known as the Mercedes Benz Superdome. My son ended up having a fantastic year and learned some very important life lessons about team work, sacrifice, and the will to succeed against the worst odds. The only place I think you could find stronger bonds among men would be the military. The journey for him was long and the struggle was real as they say on the street, but he got up everyday and performed, and like my two other sons, this one will do well also when he hits the mean streets of realville. His mind has been molded from a young age to be winner. He won’t brag about his accomplishments, but neither will he apologize for them. I sometimes look at things going on in America and feel that the country is headed in the wrong direction, but then I see the thousands of kids like my son and this gives me a glimmer of hope. Hail to moms and the LG washer, for without them the road to the dome would have been closed a long time ago. (Team pic after game, wife and I at dome,score board after game,mom and son after game, him and I earlier in the year, helmet at end of the year.
Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk
Like most on this forum, I could write volumes on all my kids, as they have all done well as they made the journey into adulthood, but today I write about my youngest son and his journey to the 5A state Championship game in the Super Dome on December 9th. When my youngest son was 4 years old he started playing organized football and has played for 13 of the last 14 years, which brings us to this year, his senior year. For anyone out there that has played the game, or had kids who played the game, you know the type of dedication it takes to play football. At each level as they get older, it becomes more serious and the pressure to perform is tremendous. My son plays on the offensive line (Right Guard / 6’ 2*, 265 lbs )which arguably is the most important part of the offense, but also one of the most thankless. As goes the offensive line, so goes the offense. Except for the parents of the O line, no one ever cheers for them. If a running back scores or a quarterback throws a touchdown the attention is focused on them as an individual and it should be, but truth be told none of those fantastic plays can be accomplished unless the O line is doing its job. The O line plays every play, there is no down time for them. Ankles, knees, and elbows are always hurt. Bruises the size of softballs are the norm, and so are cuts and gashes to every exposed part of their body. It is a brutal, vicious fight that replays itself every play.
As my wife watched him enter the front door every day after practice, it was like watching a doctor waiting for their patient to arrive. Ice, hot baths, and epsom salt can cure damn near any aches and pain, well at least long enough for him to eat, do his homework, and then go to bed. Then, after the treatments came the clothes. If there was one job that was more thankless than the O line it was the uniform washer aka *Mom*. These boys would be lost without them. They are nurses, maids, psychologist, and cheerleaders all rolled into one. As goes the moms, so goes the football player.
This season was suppose to a rebuilding year for my sons team. They had a new coach, they had lost a lot of players from the year before, and truth be told they didn’t have that one guy on the team that could carry them with pure talent. If anything was going to happen this season it was going to be carved out of pure hard work and the will to win. The season was long and the team struggled at times but the players worked hard on both sides of the ball and scratched out a winning season. Our defense found its stride near the end of the season and for the first time you could feel that the team walked a little prouder and had that confidence that a team needs to win. The offense came around also and when key players were not hurt they could put up enough points to keep us in the game and then they let the defense do its thing.
The word finally came down on who our opponent would be for the first playoff game and that’s where the run began.
To make a very long story short we had a fantastic run and wound up winning the state championship in the Dome a few weeks ago. We had to beat the number one team in the state in the semi final game on their home field in Shreveport and then two weeks later we met up with the number two team in the state and beat them in there back yard which is known as the Mercedes Benz Superdome. My son ended up having a fantastic year and learned some very important life lessons about team work, sacrifice, and the will to succeed against the worst odds. The only place I think you could find stronger bonds among men would be the military. The journey for him was long and the struggle was real as they say on the street, but he got up everyday and performed, and like my two other sons, this one will do well also when he hits the mean streets of realville. His mind has been molded from a young age to be winner. He won’t brag about his accomplishments, but neither will he apologize for them. I sometimes look at things going on in America and feel that the country is headed in the wrong direction, but then I see the thousands of kids like my son and this gives me a glimmer of hope. Hail to moms and the LG washer, for without them the road to the dome would have been closed a long time ago. (Team pic after game, wife and I at dome,score board after game,mom and son after game, him and I earlier in the year, helmet at end of the year.
Sent from my iPad using Tapatalk
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