Why Football Matters: Connecting With the Present

My father, like many fathers, is…reserved, shall we say. That’s not to say unloving—not in the least. He just expresses his feelings in the proto-typical masculine ways women must learn to interpret. Though his insistence I make my own decisions and fight my own battles as a teenager have done wonders for my adulthood independence and self reliance, it was difficult for the little girl who wanted to have a knight shield her every now and then. When the insecurities hit, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Does he really love me?”

That changed November 19, 2005. I was a senior in college, and ever since moving to Knoxville, the paternal side of my family had come to a game every other year or so. In 2005, for whatever reason, they secured tickets to the Vandy game.

Actually, I can speculate why they chose that game. Tennessee was having a terrible season. Going in to Thanksgiving, we were sitting at 4-5 and had to win out to get to the post-season. No worries, though. At the time, both Kentucky and Vanderbilt were rubbish and easily beatable. But when the clock hit goose eggs that afternoon, the Vols had fewer points than the ‘Dores.

I cried.

Not sobbing or sniffling. Just a few salt drops descending my wind burnt cheeks.

Dad got a look on his face I haven’t seen before or since. “I’ll never forgive them,” he said, “for making you cry.”

And he’s stuck to it. Not that it’s a song and dance at every mention of Vanderbilt, but we both know. Though last season, he did bring it up again and how much that loss hurt, not because of breaking the bowl streak or anything like that, but because he was hurt that I was hurt.

That was the most protective thing he has ever said to me. I’m confident he’s felt like that in other areas of my life, but football is what allowed him to say it. Those times I start wondering if Dad really cares, I remember that game. Painful as the loss was, what I gained was even better.

Sorry. Didn’t mean to get hippie-trippy, but the sport’s impact on my realstionships is a driving force behind my love for football.

Less dramatic example: examining my cell phone statements shows an increase of activity during ball season. That’s not to say I never call my family outside the Fall, but we’re not a phone-oriented family. Calling ‘just to say hi’ or ‘just to check in’ is awkward at best, uncomfortable at worst. But football gives us a springboard. I talk to my grandmothers every game day because we have to analyze and predict what’s going to happen. Sundays I talk to them and Dad and my friends and sometimes even my grandfathers to rehash, analyze, and (hopefully) celebrate the preceedings. Once that conversation has started, we can segue easily into personal topics. Without football, there’s no social lubricant.

It works the same with friends. There are people who have been dearer to me than anyone at certain points in my life. But we change, or circumstances change, and we drift apart. As dear as they are, we risk losing each other due to not being able to share experiences in the way we formerly did. I’ve lost some relationships that way.

But never my football friends. Communication may lag in the Spring, but there’s no feeling like getting that first victory text of the year, or the phone call ‘Just to get your opinion on the game’ that leads into general catching up. It’s an excuse to call when you don’t necessarily have anything to say and provides a base of common experiences that can prolong the relationship.

Even better, it’s an excuse to visit. My best friend from high school and I drifted apart for myriad reasons, not the least of which was I was in school on one side of the state and she on the other. We made up shortly before her wedding, but the distance and lack of things in common were still a wedge. Football brought us together in spirit, and when they moved to South Bend, the first thing she did was invite me up for a game. Perhaps it sounds callous, but a weekend drive that's seventeen hours round trip to the frozen tundra isn’t really feasible. That’s a huge time commitment, and what would we do? Sharing high school memories will only take us so far. The game was an excuse. Of course I was excited to visit her and would have had fun regardless, but the game day experience gave her a reason to invite me and for me to accept.

Were it not for football, my BFF would have gone two and a half decades without seeing the beach (I suppose that's a defense of the bowl system).

Fostering important relationships is admittedly not a function served only by college football. Not many people will become converts solely because of the relationship factor, though I know several whose entry into fandom was motivated by friendship to a die-hard. Connecting people is merely one component in the overall awesome package, but it is a pretty awesome component.