David’s First Football Game - Part 1

This is Part 1 of a two part story, largely because I suck at editing my own writing and couldn’t get this story down to a manageable size. Part 2 will be posted soon.

One of the moments that I had always looked forward to as a dad was taking my sons to their first football game. Every red blooded American male can recount with incredible accuracy their first outing to the ballpark and I was excited to be taking David, my 4 year old, to his first college football game. It was the September 1st Rocky Mountain Showdown between the University of Colorado Buffalos and the Colorado State Rams.

My wife was thinking ahead and packed some snacks in his little backpack that he likes to carry. Usually I like it too because it means it’s less that I have to carry, but we parked far enough away from the stadium that I ended up giving him a ride on my shoulders while he “carried” his backpack.

As we walked into the stadium I was anxious to see how excited he would be upon seeing the field. I specifically remember my first college football game with my father. How green the grass looked, staring in wide eyed wonder at the band, the college kids, the sheer pageantry of it all. I remember holding his hand and asking all kinds of questions and I remember him shaking his head ashamedly because I was 17 at the time.

We found our seats and I was asked for the umpteenth time “now can I have a snack?” I had no idea that half the fun of attending a football game was opening your backpack to see what snacks your mother had packed. I do now. He must have opened and closed that backpack a hundred times before the game even began, each time equally impressed by the snacks that he found in there. “Dad look! Goldfish Crackers!” He’d eat a couple and then put them back.

During breaks in the snacking action David filled his time by watching the football game and occasionally shouting “Go Buffs!” He was mildly interested in the game and that was the best I could have hoped for considering the fact that he’s only 4 years old. Secretly, I had hoped that he would be over-the-top excited about football. That he’d declare his lifelong goal to play quarterback, and begin a life dedicated to football that would culminate with a string of Super Bowl rings, supermodel girlfriends and interviews that end with “I couldn’t have done it without my Dad.” Maybe next year.

Dad! Did you see that I have pretzels in my backpack!

Read Part 2