12thMan
05-16-2007, 01:32 PM
I probably should have titled this thread, "A Woman and Football" because this is a story about my personal experience. But in the broader context of Women and Football, I felt it necessary to title the thread as such.
Just a quick story about my own personal experience growing up as a football fan.
Growing up as a young man in WashingtonD.C., Redskin football was borderline religion to many. On Sundays I couldn't wait to plop down in front of the T.V. in anticipation of watching the Redskins kick off and start another NFC East battle or whomever they were playing. Burgundy and gold dominated the back drop, quick flashes of Joe Gibbs pacing the sidelines, and that magical feel of RFK stadium literally oozzed right through the TV screen into the bedroom; I was pumped!!
My mom would yell at me to try to get me to go to church with her, but I wasn't having it. What a horrible day, I thought, God had chosen to have me, of all people, come and 'see' Him. The nerve of Him! By the time my mother returned from church, the game was usually right around half-time. My focus hadn't waned one iota. She would quietly go to her bedroom close her door and proceed to endure countless yells, screams, loud claps, ohhs and ahhhs at the very top of my voice. She would emerge just long enough only to prepare dinner or fix me a plate.
Once the game concluded, it might as well had been Monday. The weekend, as far as I was concerned, was over. Yes, I had to endure another 6 or 7 torturous days before I was in front of that big, old colored TV with the bad reception. But all that burgundy and gold came though just fine.
Time went on and the Redskins under Gibbs I started to look strong, very strong. They began to roll along like a well oiled machine. I still remember that first victory day parade. The envoy of vehicles with Gibbs and the boys twisting and turning through the city to a relentless throng of burgundy and gold. Then one day it happened....I'm not sure exactly when or what game it was, but Anna White sunk down in that recliner she loved to sit in and asked me to teach her about football. I almost had a coronary at the age of 17! I was so excited, but felt so inadequate to actually teach her something that came, well, so naturally for me.
I started teaching her the game in ten yard increments. I said, "mom, this game is all about getting ten yards at a time until you run out of space." If you can't keep getting ten yards, you have to give the other team a shot - plain and simple. Well, that seemed easy enough. She could handle that much. Before long, she would be yelling at Joey T. or Joe Washington, for that matter, to pick it up or 'score a touchdown guys!' Yes, I had proselytized my mom to the First Church of...well, 12thMan.
Suffice it to say, I'm leaving out some details for the sake of brevity, but once I moved to the west coast for a number of years, I would routinely call home to get detailed updates on roster moves, games that I missed, and what coach Gibbs was talking about in the media. She was almost like my own personal Warpath way back then.
I share all of this because, one, I do know that women know and understand football. But I can only filter that knowledge through the lens of my own personal experience. A very real one at that. I think there was something about teaching my mom to love the Redskins that made me love them a little more.
Where am I going with all of this? I'm not really sure to be honest. But I wonder why, we as men, feel that women aren't as qualified to speak on certain topics, especially sports, especially football. Where does that stem from? Is it that, perhaps, we see football as one of the last 'instituitions' that we can claim exclusive rights to in a society that talks so freely about women's lib and other so called feminist agendas or topics?
I don't know the answers, but I think it's well worth discussing.
Just a quick story about my own personal experience growing up as a football fan.
Growing up as a young man in WashingtonD.C., Redskin football was borderline religion to many. On Sundays I couldn't wait to plop down in front of the T.V. in anticipation of watching the Redskins kick off and start another NFC East battle or whomever they were playing. Burgundy and gold dominated the back drop, quick flashes of Joe Gibbs pacing the sidelines, and that magical feel of RFK stadium literally oozzed right through the TV screen into the bedroom; I was pumped!!
My mom would yell at me to try to get me to go to church with her, but I wasn't having it. What a horrible day, I thought, God had chosen to have me, of all people, come and 'see' Him. The nerve of Him! By the time my mother returned from church, the game was usually right around half-time. My focus hadn't waned one iota. She would quietly go to her bedroom close her door and proceed to endure countless yells, screams, loud claps, ohhs and ahhhs at the very top of my voice. She would emerge just long enough only to prepare dinner or fix me a plate.
Once the game concluded, it might as well had been Monday. The weekend, as far as I was concerned, was over. Yes, I had to endure another 6 or 7 torturous days before I was in front of that big, old colored TV with the bad reception. But all that burgundy and gold came though just fine.
Time went on and the Redskins under Gibbs I started to look strong, very strong. They began to roll along like a well oiled machine. I still remember that first victory day parade. The envoy of vehicles with Gibbs and the boys twisting and turning through the city to a relentless throng of burgundy and gold. Then one day it happened....I'm not sure exactly when or what game it was, but Anna White sunk down in that recliner she loved to sit in and asked me to teach her about football. I almost had a coronary at the age of 17! I was so excited, but felt so inadequate to actually teach her something that came, well, so naturally for me.
I started teaching her the game in ten yard increments. I said, "mom, this game is all about getting ten yards at a time until you run out of space." If you can't keep getting ten yards, you have to give the other team a shot - plain and simple. Well, that seemed easy enough. She could handle that much. Before long, she would be yelling at Joey T. or Joe Washington, for that matter, to pick it up or 'score a touchdown guys!' Yes, I had proselytized my mom to the First Church of...well, 12thMan.
Suffice it to say, I'm leaving out some details for the sake of brevity, but once I moved to the west coast for a number of years, I would routinely call home to get detailed updates on roster moves, games that I missed, and what coach Gibbs was talking about in the media. She was almost like my own personal Warpath way back then.
I share all of this because, one, I do know that women know and understand football. But I can only filter that knowledge through the lens of my own personal experience. A very real one at that. I think there was something about teaching my mom to love the Redskins that made me love them a little more.
Where am I going with all of this? I'm not really sure to be honest. But I wonder why, we as men, feel that women aren't as qualified to speak on certain topics, especially sports, especially football. Where does that stem from? Is it that, perhaps, we see football as one of the last 'instituitions' that we can claim exclusive rights to in a society that talks so freely about women's lib and other so called feminist agendas or topics?
I don't know the answers, but I think it's well worth discussing.