The Football Fathers

On my evening commute, I drive by a grade school that has a practice football field. It's really a hillside, not flat at all, and I don't know why the boys practice there, except for maybe there isn't anywhere else. This is a blue collar town without amenities. Practice begins the first of August. Last year, the boys looked young, maybe 7th grade. This year, they appear older and bigger and even stronger.

A few fathers hang out to watch the practice. Last season, they hung back, standing on the sidewalk, watching from afar, but their focus and concentration on the team and, I suspect, their sons, was intense. This year, they collect in a little group at the bottom of the field. Their demeanor still seems wistful, even in the intensity of their interest. The dashed hopes and expectations for themselves have been translated into hopes for these kids. It's a completely different thing from Moms hanging out watching softball or tennis. To me, the dads appear more vulnerable, somehow sad.

Random thoughts while driving. If you read this blog, you'll recognize that I like to think and observe on the way to and from work. This is life and you have to look around and be a little involved. But maybe not so much as the football fathers.

Aloha

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