The Game

I was 5 years old when Roger Staubach started playing professional football. I was too young to know what irony was, or the definition of appropriate, but I still thought it was funny that the team with a star on their helmets had a quarterback named Star-back. It was a while before I figured out what his name really was.

I will freely admit that I was a bit of a late bloomer when it came to noticing boys. I've mentioned this before. I didn't really begin to notice boys as boys until probably the last half of 8th grade. When I was in 7th grade, some of the girls in my class were discussing who their favorite quarterbacks were. They were talking about Joe Montana, Danny White, Joe Namath, Joe Theismann. I believe I even heard Dan Pastorini's name mentioned. One of my few friends, wanting to include me, turned to me and asked, "Becky, who is your favorite quarterback?"

Without hesitation, I answered, "Roger Staubach."

"Ewww," she replied, "how can you like that old, ugly guy."

I must admit, I was a bit taken aback by this. I'd never thought about him being ugly. I'd never really paid attention to what he looked like at all. Why did it matter? Even if he were ugly, which I never thought he was, did it have any effect on how he played the game? Of course, now that I've got a few more years behind me, and a bit more estrogen flowing through me (though it seems to be on the decline, it's still more than I had when I was 12) I still don't think he's ugly. Even if he were, what does it matter? He's still the greatest quarterback who ever played the game, and, more importantly, a man of character and integrity as well.

Flustered and confused, I stammered out an answer. "He's a good quarterback," I said.

"Don't you like Danny White?" she asked.

"Oh, yes!" I excitedly exclaimed. "I like him because you never know what he's going to do. He'll get out there to punt, and he may scramble for a first down, or pass the ball. He's great!"

With a heavy sigh, my friend said, "Oh Becky, you just don't get it."

Early conversations about football often went like this with me. That same year, all the girls were crazy over Charlie Waters. I didn't get it. Now, don't get me wrong. Charlie Waters was a good football player. One of the best. He is still the standard by which I judge a free safety. What I didn't get was why they didn't like Cliff Harris just as much. After all, he was as good a ball player as Charlie Waters. Better, if you judge by how many times he was all-pro. I mentioned him one time.

"That old bald headed guy???"

Again, I was baffled by their response. What did it matter if he had hair or not? How did his being bald affect his game playing ability? Once he got his helmet on, you couldn't tell that he was bald anyway. I had to admit that I just didn't get it. It was about that time that I gave up trying to have football conversations with girls.

I still don't have a whole lot of football conversations with women. Usually, there's not much to talk about. I don't watch because the quarterback is "yummy". (We won't even get into how annoying I find it when that word is used by people over the age of--oh, say three.) I will admit that I find Tony Romo to be drool-worthy, but that's not why I like him. I like him for his ability to play the game--and to play it well. I like him for the joy he brings to the game. I like him because he loves the game. He's not even signed to a contract. He's playing because he loves the game. But I digress...

I watch football for the game. I love the action. I love the long bombs. I love the running backs breaking loose for 40, 50, 60 yard touchdown runs. I love the one handed grabs. I love the excitement of a come from behind victory. I love the noise of the crowds, and the crunching of the bone jarring tackles. I love the perfection of a well executed play. I love the game itself. I don't watch to please a boyfriend or a husband. I have neither, so that's not even a question. It's my son who, along about Sunday night is whining, "Can we please watch something besides football?" I will never wear a pink jersey, or even one of those tight fitting "women's" jerseys. No Barbie dolls for me. I got footballs for Christmas when I was a kid.

The game has always been a part of my life, and for the life of me, I can't imagine life without it.