back in the saddle

this weekend i attended what i believe to be my first football game in almost four years. this doesn't seem quite right, and i really can't believe it, but the numbers don't lie. in more extraordinary news, it's the first football game i've watched the entire way through in probably about three years. this is not like the old me, the girl who was as thrilled to get university of florida vanity plates for her car as she was to get the car itself, the girl who religiously watched every game - not only of the gators but their mortal enemies as well, the girl who could go head to head on heisman prospects with any male, the girl who often gave up entire saturdays - and maybe even a sunday or two - devoting herself to the gridiron.

but my football obsession began to fade as a number of things happened: I began to notice how the wins/losses began to affect my mood the following week and I didn't like that I could be controlled by something so distant. Related to this, the coach of my team quit to turn pro and a dismal future loomed ahead. I also began dating someone who can't stomach even five minutes of the game. I graduated from college which meant that the football realm didn't have the central importance that it used to - it wasn't on the front page of my daily paper, it wasn't discussed among students, it just wasn't as much in the forefront of thought. I moved away - to foreign countries, to other states, and I began a course of study which didn't allow time for such extraneous influence. So first I stopped going to games, then watching them became less important, then watching them became a treat, and finally watching them didn't even cross my mind. Was I never a true fan? (I can hardly imagine Nick Hornby turning his back on soccer.) Or did I just need a vacation?

As we descended the exit ramp for the stadium memories of a past lifetime flooded back. The excitement visible in the air. The chilly breeze but warm sun. Hot dogs, hamburgers, beer. A sea of purple - ok, admittedly a sea of purple is not really something I'm familiar with, but it was the color of the team, the color of the day, and that made sense to me (even though most of the times I was confronted with such a blob I was the easily identifiable one refusing to comply). I did not even care about the Baltimore Ravens, but just being at a game. A real, live football game. It was like I was a kid again. I didn't even really understand how excited I was until I saw the field. Just thinking about the match that would soon unfold gave me goosebumps. I was giddy. A part of my spirit had been raised from the dead and it felt good to be back.

At first it was strange, rooting for a team about which I knew nothing. And I couldn't see the ball, damn thing was so tiny! Eventually, though, I got back in the swing of things. Even my old rebellious nature flared - inexplicably I found myself secretly hoping the opposing team would win, for no apparent reason other than I didn't want to be one of the herd. I began to remember the rules, to recognize that the coaches were idiots, to get into the rhythm of the game. When it was over I felt a tinge of sadness - would I ever return to the game again? I hoped so, but having been away for so long I didn't know if I would remember to check the schedules, to be on top of the top 25.

The significance of my trip to the stadium still didn't hit home, well, basically until it hit home. My mom had called while I was gone and my roommate informed her that I went to a football game. When I returned the call, my parents were almost as excited as I was. They understood somehow. The fact that they "got it," that they realized the importance of the day, validated everything I'd been feeling - I had lost a part of myself, something that used to be a fundamental part of my identity and now I was possibly finding it again.

I'm fairly sure that football will never be everything to me that it used to be, but I think that's a good thing. I think I needed my vacation. And I think I'm ready to try it on again. I realize this is all a bit silly, waxing poetic and important about a sport, but it truly is a rediscovery of self in a way, and I think it's pretty cool that I can love something so much, then discard it, but finally pick it up again, able to appreciate it in a new light, a new perspective. (And hopefully, that new perspective will again involve free tickets to boxseats at the stadium, because dude, that view, along with the food and drink, is SWEET.)