I have football fatigue. Sure, you may say, that is the way it should feel at the end of a sports season. But I really, really have football fatigue. It started at the beginning of the week. When I dropped Jackson off at practice, I was handed a fistful of markers, “Championship Week! Let’s show our Gator pride,” the team mom told me. I was all in. This was our first season as a football family and we were going to the championship!?! I was ready to throw myself into the spirit.
|We started off the week with gusto! |
Nothing like a neighborhood rivalry.
Tuesday morning rolled around and I opened my front door to walk the kids to the bus. In the clear, bright morning light “GATOR NATION” was screaming at me. I felt like putting on sunglasses. Parking the car at the grocery store was worse. There was no hiding the Suburban there. “FEAR THE SWAMP” started feeling slightly offensive.
By noon, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Katie, it’s Mara. Did you see my car this morning?” I asked my neighbor.
“Not a chance. I was too busy screaming at the kids before school, why?” she asked.
“Okay, seriously? I am driving a car that says ‘Gator Nation’ on your behalf and you haven’t noticed?” I asked her.
“I guess I haven’t.”
Wednesday was the worst. I tried to sit tall as Hasidic Jews stared at me in bewilderment as I drove through Brooklyn (of all places). I looked like a crazed Florida fan. Really, it’s normal, I wanted to say. My son is in the championship. But even that sounds kind of lame.
|I'm not sure what balloons have to do with football|
On Thursday, I was driving all over Cos Cob delivering the requisite orange & green balloons to tie on Gator player’s mailboxes.
“Mom, what did you do today?” the kids asked me at dinner. When I told them, they looked bewildered.
“What do balloons have to do with football?” my football player asked me.
“I am not sure.”
By Sunday, I was almost too emotionally spent to go to the game and cheer or do the gator chomping arm thing. I had read all the inspirational emails to gear up (there were at least nine a day over the course of the championship week). I had peaked early. I felt like the deflated balloons blowing in the wind of our mailbox.
So my moral? Don’t get caught up? Paint your car? Tie balloons to mailboxes? Read inspiring emails? No, I’d do it again. I’d just wait until Friday before the game…