I Need A Hero

I know this sounds silly, especially in terms of a Sunday afternoon watching football, but that is simply what it takes for me. If I am going to sit down, devote 4 hours of my day putting on the pounds, eating cheese, meats, crackers and dips, it better be worth it.

Yes, I need a hero.

So what exactly is my point, you might be asking yourself. I am not a huge football fan. I have shared this fact before and although many who hear this might say, "What? A girl from Pittsburgh, not a football fan? Show her the video of the Immaculate Reception stat!!!"

I get it. Football is so ingrained in the fabric of our lives here, having such a proud dynasty of successful Super Bowl runs, but for me it is more about, as Martin Luther King said, the content of their character. If I am going to root for you, I want to root for you, on and off the field. I don't want to hear about Twitter rants, womanizings, blunt rollings or DUI's when you are not scoring touchdowns.

That is why I liked Landry Jones. He was real folk to me. Just a God fearing guy who once in a while got a chance to rally his team and take them to the endzone. I was sad to see him go, although I knew the writing was on the wall. In fact, once the team picked up Mason Rudolph, I knew 'Having A Black and Gold Christmas' was not the carol Landry would be singing in December.

Then comes the saga of Le'Veon Bell. I know he is talented. He is one of the Killer B's but when you don't show up for training camp, or practice or games because your $14.5 million franchise tag is  considered an insult because of what other guys are making, shame on you. I can't fathom that amount of money and to me, anything over $1 million I wouldn't sneeze at.

A local sports writer a few weeks back tried to defend Bell in an article he wrote and I, Little Miss Non-Sports, read it. I went into it with an open mind hoping to get some kind of clarity on the subject of his absenteeism, but the staggering figure, the amount of money we are talking about, I could not get past.

I am a team player and I want my team to have team players. Bell may be taking a stand but I don't think, and tell me if I am wrong, I can support his position as he hangs his team out to dry.

It has been a rough couple of years for me because I am passionate about my players on and off the field. My husband on the other hand greets every game with the enthusiasm of a Super Bowl and doesn't care what a player did last week, last month or ten years ago. But much like Santa, I've got a list and I'm checkin' it twice and on game day I remember and my cheers are selective.

I know that my living room protest means nothing in the grand scheme of things. It may seem silly to some and that is ok because now I have a hero. I have number 30, James Conner. I was rooting for him against the Browns and I was rooting for him against the Chiefs. Watching his one handed catch blew my mind and he earned my support ten fold.

Conner's story is one only Dickens could top. Conner's enthusiasm, talent and spirit is something inspirational, and is something I can feel good about my seven-year-old looking up to.

I know it is a lot to ask for athletes to be people we can admire, but I am total package kind of gal. I am not expecting a bunch of saints on the field. I get it, we are all human. No one is perfect. But for $14.5 million dollars, I expect a little more and for $578,000, (Conner's salary according to Wikipedia) it appears Steelers' management might have gotten a lot more bang for way less bucks.

Drawing Nolan made during summer vacation.

Living The Dream, Again

One of the greatest joys of being a parent is watching my kids participate in something I enjoyed as a child. I tried my hand at a few things while growing up including, but not limited to: gymnastics, ballet, Slovak dance group, piano lessons, cheerleading, clarinet lessons and finally marching band.

That is quite an impressive resume if I do say so myself but, before you get the impression that I was a child phenom, let me present the reality. Gymnastics lasted a few classes until the teacher said to my mother, "Get that thing off the balance bar." I'm guessing not because I was so talented I didn't need further practice.

 Ballet lasted a few classes until the teacher quit and cheerleading, well that was a two year deal in Catholic middle school when there was nothing else to participate in so, despite rockin'  the tight perm, large glasses and the braces, I gave it a go. I was so totally not cheerleading material and probably concussed myself a few times doing somersaults on the hardwood floor.

We were supposed to tuck our heads and roll, but my head always seemed to make contact with the floor before each of my vertebrate followed suit. The best part of cheerleading were the awesome black and white saddle shoes I sometimes got to wear. Fashion first, you know.

My kids do participate in a Tamburitzan group but their involvement was completely coincidental. (No influence or coercion on my part wanting Slovak dreams of yore to come true.) We happened to attend a tea at a nearby church when my daughter was about 6 and the entertainment was of the ethnic variety. Once she saw the group perform she said,  "I want to do that." This lead to a seven year adventure for two of my three kids.

But my passion during my teen years was marching band. I remember attending a high school football game during my freshman year and seeing the band perform at half time. I turned to the friend I was with and, much like my daughter at the tea, said, "I want to do that." Funny thing, my friend said the same thing too. The following year she and I were both on the same field, me with my clarinet and my friend with her flag in the color guard.

Those years, as I have written about before, were so influential. At the time I had no clue how much my involvement in band would mean to me and how the lessons learned during those three years would resonate throughout the course of my life. I guess the biggest lesson is how hard work and dedication eventually pays off and how being a part of team is a gratifying experience. When all parts work together, something beautiful is created and I am proud of what we as a group,  and I as a player, accomplished during the late 80's and early 90's.

So when I had children of my own it was a dream of mine that maybe someday they too would participate in band. I spoke of this over the years, not often, and not like, 'When you are of age you will follow in my footsteps and you will make music on a football field, in a uniform, as I cheer and cry from the bleachers." Nope, that never happened.

What did happen was that last year my daughter had to choose between cheerleading and color guard. She asked my opinion on what she should do. I bit my tongue, not wanting to purposefully influence her to make my dream come true,  but desperately wanting to say, "Color guard, color guard, color guard!!" I wanted her to look at both activities objectively and make the right choice for her. She chose on her own and, whether or not my past played any role in her decision, I was happy to know there were years of marching band in my future.

What happened this year was not expected at all. I now have two kids on the field. My oldest son, as a junior, was asked to fill a void left vacant by a graduating senior who played the upright bass. Up until this point, my son had only been involved in orchestra with his cello. I gave up on having a playing member in the band, just happy to be there in any capacity as a guard mom. This new development has brought me great joy two fold and double the emotion while watching them perform. Although it is much harder to watch two kids than just one. (At least my son is stationary.)

I hope their band experience is as good if not better than mine. I have already seen both of them grow personally because of their experience. Becoming more responsible, practicing on their own, being a good team player, these are things that will translate well in the real world.

So much emphasis these days is placed on sports and the time and dedication behind the scenes - but there are similar skill sets needed to be a good performer. These kids work hard and are dedicated for sure. There are evening and weekend practices, Friday night football games and Saturday competitions. To watch their show progress from the start of the season until the end in November is like watching a caterpillar turn into a butterfly. Once their wings are ready, these kids can soar to the highest heights.