These Kids Came To Play

I can now acknowledge that the people that I watch each weekend and depend upon for my ongoing moods and hopes are all about half my age. These are kids, for the most part, and why I would choose to hang my dreams on the actions and efforts of a group of boys who have only recently begun driving legally.
The rational response would be to admit that I have a problem, and move on to step two. Instead, I use this opportunity to reflect on my own experience on the gridiron. When I was very young, we played football in the backyard. Not our backyard, since we had a dog and all the attendant challenges and messes that would allow. We played on my friend's lawn because we could play tackle. That was when I used to be called "Tank." I would not be stopped.
As we grew out of the backyard, we moved to the street. There was a good deal of incidental contact, but the rule was pretty solidly two hand touch - below the waist for the sticklers - and "all pass." This rendered the "Tank" obsolete. Street football is a game for the fleet of foot. Typical huddles included the instructions, "Buttonhook after the driveway" or "Go long past the station wagon." You were not allowed to rush the quarterback until after you had counted five Mississippi, or bananas. We would play until the streetlights came on, or until it got dark enough that someone caught a ball with their nose.
As a fourth grader, I joined Young America Football. My team was the Patriots. We practiced hard, got to wear pads, and played tackle. I learned that my size and speed would earn me a spot on the offensive line. I learned the difference between run blocking and pass protection was largely a matter of a few seconds. I learned that chewing on a mint-flavored mouthguard is a mildly reflective habit.
I waited until I was in eighth grade before I went out for the team again. This time I played on the middleweight team. I have a very vivid memory of my responsibility on punt coverage, as I recall my coach grabbing me by the facemask and screaming it at me after I had allowed a punt return for a touchdown.
It may have been at that precise moment that I decided to let somebody else take care of my football dreams. It's a whole lot easier to watch.