My first memory of a television screen was on January 31st 1993. It was Super Bowl 27 and a very fuzzy vision of little men running on the field while the roar of my grandparents living room shook me into my first second of lucidness. It was Leon Lett running down the side line after he had recovered a fumble. He was one yard from glory when the ball was slapped out of his hand. I don’t remember anything but a still frame of that moment and the sound of fans screaming for their Dallas Cowboys because well, we lived in Dallas Texas.
That moment must have branded me in some way, I mean it literally woke me into consciousness for a moment before I returned to the darkness that is my 3rd year of life. I also remember every Christmas and thanksgiving at my other grandparent’s house watching football on the big screen with my uncles and cousins. While my grandmother and company were putting the finishing touches to the big meal.
Fast forward I’m 8 years old and I’ve just joined my very first football team. I was bigger then most the kids, second to one other player. So they started me as a right guard on offense. I had the privilege of playing for a very successful team. We won first place in our area and division five of the seven years I played with them. I remember late night practices in the dark. I remember being pushed and coached and running until almost passing out. My teammates young faces carved into my memory Boo, Kj, Issac, Alvin and Sawyer.
KJ was our half back and man could he run! He was the fastest kid Id ever seen in person. Many games I remember seeing his number 21 running thirty yards down the field as he scored another six points for the Lake Dallas Falcons. I can also recall the feeling I had when I learned KJ had a degenerative bone condition and he was no longer going to be playing football. I was crushed. It was a pain and empathy I don’t believe I had felt much before that moment.
I wasn’t good friends with very many of the guys on the team. In fact I was the butt of a lot of jokes. Yet there was something beyond friendship on that championship team. Being an only child they were my brothers. Those same boys that weren’t nice to me very often were my team. I blocked for them, I worked for them, I gave everything I had in the battle on the field. At the end of every game we all won together, we all lost together. we shared tears and laughter together. The elation of victory and the sting of defeat.
I quit football in 9th grade. A bad choice in hindsight but the past is 20/20 as they say. I still saw all those guys in the hallways at school and though I chose a completely different path at that time, there was still an unspoken and unbroken bond when we would pass. I decided to be a complete emo metal head not popular with the Jocks at that time. I also stopped watching football I think a little part of my heart died when I decided to step away.
I obliviously came back to football at the age of 20 this time as a fan. I was able to love the sport again without the pain of not being able to play it. I benefited from all the knowledge I learned as a player on that team. I could see the game in a way that many fans who have never played don’t get to. I was obsessed for years and still love it.
I found a new love five years ago though, the NHL. It was difficult to get into at first. Understanding the game after coming from watching a sport I knew so intimately was a slog I’ll admit. I would force myself to pay attention and learn it. It became my favorite sport. Its my firm opinion that it is the greatest team sport to ever be played on earth.
One aspect I saw early on was the camaraderie of the players, the fight and the tenacity. The way every member of the team is expected to have each others backs. That’s what drew me in. It reminded me of those days when I was young on that team. Guys in the moment, you can see and feel the emotion. You can get raptured up with those guys after a big moment on the ice. Being a fan of a Hockey team is almost like being on the team with those guys. It feels like you share that moment with them instead of as a bystander.
That bring me to the point of this post. This year I’ve been disheartened and a little enraged by my fellow Hockey fans. When Trump became president of the United States and got into a trade war with Canada (who by the way I had come to love and adore because the gave me the greatest team sport on earth). People stated to boo the national anthem. Not to mention the last couple of seasons with the instances of pride tape and nights. Also the issues with Russia in the Ukraine conflict.
I HATE politics. I loath them. Every aspect of division on Ideals that hardly ever become reality. Tearing apart families and friendships. Causing undue hate toward neighbors. I learned I’d rather love people around me and judge them based on how they act and live. Not on some idealistic opinion they may or may not hold.
When I watch my favorite sport on earth I don’t want to hear anyone’s ideals about how the world should be. I don’t want to hear what someone thinks about what a player should do or say. Sports are about history. They are about the guys down there putting aside their language barriers and nationalities. Giving everything for that guy beside them. Defending the team, playing for that crest, for those fans. Sharing their heart, effort, despair and victory with us. It’s about the warm feelings and memories of family members that have passed. Its about first moments of lucidness that brand people. Its about broken hearts from lost careers and those playing for all the ones who brought them to this moment.
So when you put on that hat of your favorite team or that Jersey worn by one of the greats can we join the guys on the field or skating on the ice? For this two or three hours we are no loner right or left republican and democrat. We are not only black, white, Hispanic, Christian, athiest and Muslim.
We are a fans.
We are a rivals.
We are together.
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