For the past few weeks, my teenage daughter and more than 100 of her closest friends (or at least, classmates) have been putting in serious hours practicing football. Yes, football. Most evenings, some weekends, for two or three hours at a time. This is on top of schoolwork, her job at the stable, training with her horse, and focusing on college applications. My daughter is one tired young lady.
As of Saturday, she's also a champion.
Yes, she and her team soundly beat the town — and arch-rival team — next door. All I can say is ... "Thank goodness."
Actually, there is much to be grateful for as we head toward the Thanksgiving holiday later this week. First of all, she got through the entire experience without an injury. (All I could think about was that after riding and jumping horses for the past twelve years, she'd wind up with a concussion from Powder Puff Football.) My worries weren't completely unfounded. There were some casualties during practice and I did see at least two girls limp off the field in Saturday's game.
The annual event may be named after something soft and harmless, but these women meant business, believe me.
With so many girls participating, many didn't see much action. But, my daughter did get to play, several times, and even snatched two of the other team's flags, including the very first one of the game.
Apparently, this is a good thing. (So I was told.)
Even before the big game itself, we had plenty of serendipity and luck. From finding cleats on sale to pulling together all the required outfits for "Spirit Week." (Somehow a pair of camouflage pants from freshman year, two sizes smaller than her current jeans, still fit. It was like our own personal Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.) At the last minute (what else is new?), my daughter realized that she really wanted a new dress for the post-game "progressive dinner." I time-shifted some of my own commitments so we could make a mad dash to the mall. We found the very thing she was looking for at the very last store we visited — and 30% off! — before racing back so she could get to her final scrimmage.
When all was said and done, the camaraderie and school spirit we saw on Saturday was really something to behold. I've rolled my eyes countless times through this process, but I confess, I'm a believer now. Never exactly a sports fan (man, that is the understatement of the year), I was perfectly happy to be there, to cheer when I was supposed to (even though I didn't really have a clue why we were all cheering), to congratulate the victors and celebrate with other proud parents afterwards.
My daughter's Powder Puff game was actually the first football game I ever went to. So, I'm particularly happy that it had a happy ending.
You see ... chances are, it will be my last football game as well.
If you enjoyed this post, I invite you to order a copy of my book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.
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