Day 18 An Autumn Memory for Heads or Tails

Heads -- An Autumn Memory

Go back in time to when our oldest son, Gene, is a senior in high school. He plays tight end or wide receiver for the local high school team. He's good. A tall, lanky boy. Full of himself and willing to put it all on the line for his team.

Dad and step mom (me) were at every game. We traveled all over the Texas panhandle usually dragging three not so enthusiastic daughters with us. We sat on cold metal bleachers during pouring rain, icy cold winds, blowing snow, and beautiful nights with full moons so close they could have been hit by a soaring footfall. We drank hot chocolate that was just barely warm, ate soggy hot dogs, and lots of candy from concession stands. And we cheered, often not being able to talk above a whisper on Saturday.

We won district, bi-district, regionals and went on to quarter-finals before being defeated. It is the regional game that I remember best. The opponents are the Hornets. My old high school. I want this game more than any other game they have played. A day or two before the game I talk to Gene and tell him how much a win would mean to me personally. He gave me a slow grin and said, "It's yours."

It was a close game. I don't remember the exact score (I'm sure Robert or Gene do.) but at half time I went across the field to visit with some old high school friends who had sons playing. I told Susan that we were going to win. Gene was going to see to it. We laughed about it and I returned to my seat for the second half. And on one of the prettiest pass plays I've ever witnessed Gene ran way down the field, stretched out his full length, pulled the ball in and landed on his stomach with the ball in the end zone to win the game.

Those were awesome autumn days. Cheering for the Bobcats, for Gene, at all those games.

Autumn is still football, I just don't go sit on those cold bleachers anymore.