Friday, October 7, 2011


As much as I hate to admit it, I am a football mama. From the end of July until November, the sport pretty much consumes our lives. And while I don't like, at all, thinking about concussions, altered body parts, etc., I love watching my boys' passion and energy on the field. I love watching my two captains grasp arms and stride to the center of the field for the coin toss. Love watching #26's strength and speed as he twists down the field and and breaks for the end zone. Love watching this guy, who wouldn't put two sentences together in a conversation in the classroom, talk to reporters in post game interviews. Love his (slightly damp) stinky post game hugs. And I love watching #15, my quarterback, as he throws the ball all the way down the field. Love watching him as he scrambles and takes risks and tries the moves he worked all summer to perfect. Love watching my junior mentor the freshman quarterback on the sidelines.

It's hard to find good football poems (in fact, after years of searching, I would venture to say there are very few). This one showed up on "YOUR DAILY POEM" a week or two ago. I'm not sure if it's actually about football, in fact I think it's probably about soccer, but it captures the spirit of football, and it's in the public domain, and it gives me a chance to share a picture of my two gorgeous guys (also their older brother and nephew) …

"Football Season"
Author Unknown
O wild kaleidoscopic panorama of jaculatory arms and legs.
The twisting, twining, turning, tussling, throwing, thrusting, throttling, tugging, thumping, the tightening thews.
The tearing of tangled trousers, the jut of giant calves protuberant.
The wriggleness, the wormlike, snaky movement and life of it;
The insertion of strong men in the mud, the wallowing, the stamping with thick shoes;
The rowdyism, and élan, the slugging and scraping, the cowboy Homeric ferocity.
(Ah, well kicked, red legs! Hit her up, you muddy little hero, you!)
The bleeding noses, the shins, the knuckles abraded:
That’s the way to make men! Go it, you border ruffians, I like ye.



GatheringBooks said...

Nice! Nothing wrong with being a football mom. My nine year old daughter plays for their school's basketball team and yes my heart is in my throat each time she plays, but I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Nice poem as well, we have very few of those (marriage of sports and verse), so thanks for sharing.

Mary Lee said...

Your "border ruffians" are looking SO grown up!!!

Tabatha said...

Hmmm, finding football poems is an interesting challenge. I posted football art recently. I've posted about basketball and soccer poems. I'm sure there must be a bunch of football poems out there SOMEWHERE. If I run across them, I'll let you know.