Why We Play..

So, after yesterday's post, I asked Bee about football. I asked him why he loved the game so much. Why is it, they in order to feed us and help keep a roof over our heads, he has to work, and his job requires much physical labor, and yet, he risks it all by going out to play that one.last.game.

He responded by showing me something he wrote right before we started dating. It kinda made my eyes a little leaky to read it. Something about how he shows his passion (and, he's not a bad writer, to boot! ;)  )

Anyway, I thought I would share it here... enjoy!

Why We Play

"When I was a boy, I stepped out onto the field. I stood between friends in the backyard and drew up plays in the dirt. We were just kids, dreaming of being men. Pushing, shoving, tackling, and running. We were neighborhood kids, playing games on the neighborhood lot. In my backyard we were heroes.

We beat each other up. Yelled and screamed. Pretended that we hated each other. But by the time our moms called us to come home for dinner we were planning the next days game. We would play til dark. We would play in the rain. We played in the snow. All for the love of the game.

In the summer it was baseball. Basketball in the spring. But we waited all year for Fall. The leaves would change and the footballs would come out of hibernation. The jerseys would come out of the dressers. The old pants and sweatshirts would come out of the closet. Mom would stock up on bandages and make sure she had a bag for ice.

When high-school came and two-a-days hit, we hit each other like rams in a fight. Battering each other senseless. Trying to kill the very guy that would have your back on Friday night. We would jockey for position, trying to be the star. Competing for that glory and fame. We tried to make sure the cheerleaders all knew our names.

As much as we competed and fought with each other, if we were out on Saturday night and ran into a rival we had each others backs. A fight among friends, on your home turf was one thing. But the enemy was another. If I got in trouble with the guy from another school, my neighbor was there to have my back.

Some of us left for the military, some for college, some stayed home and learned on the streets. But whether we were in some kind of uniform or just the neighborhood gang we were still a team. We still had each others backs. We were still a team.

You never forget your teammates. They never forget you. They always remember. There was good, and there was bad. But somehow the bad is forgotten, and either the good or the embarrassing are all that remains. We played for many reasons. And some of us still do. But when we were young the only one that mattered was the most important one. And it was the same for all of us then, just like it is for us now.
It was all for the love of the game. "

- Bee