American Rules Football is my choice as “Best Sport” and here’s my reason why.
Let’s just get this out of the way. I am a female. Born female and remain female, all though there were times when I was growing up that the neighborhood kids would have disagreed.
My dad was very athletic when I was young. He had played football and ran track in high school and he always played or coached softball in leagues. He also officiated a lot of pee-wee and jr. high games. He was a stickler for perfection even from his little daughter.
I believe my dad wanted a son first even though he vehemently denies this. Some of my first memories with my dad are in the yard with him teaching me to catch a football. I was taught the correct technique even though growing up in the 60’s and 70’s girls were not ever allowed to play in “real games”. I was taught to watch the ball into my hands and then bring it in to protect it. I was taught to catch a football over my shoulder. I was also taught how to block, but I was never taught to tackle.
Growing up, my brother, who was two and one-half years younger than me, and I was very competitive. I’m going to admit this for the first time ever, I was very jealous of my brother in the fact that he got to play football. I played softball, was on the track and gymnastics teams and was also a cheerleader. I was very athletic. But when the weather turned cool and it would be Autumn the jealousy and resentment would build. I watched my brother put on pads and helmet and use all the football knowledge that our dad had taught both of us. I watched him drop catches that I would think, “I would have caught that”. I saw him miss blocks, that I would think, “how did you miss that”? I’m not saying my brother was not a good football player, he was. It was just the big “green” monster that grew in me.
During the football season, there was almost always a pickup game going on in the neighborhood. More times than not, in my yard. Most of the time, my dad would quarterback for both teams. This was when I had the most fun. I got to play football in my own yard and I took all my frustrations, for not getting to play for real, out on the boys in my neighborhood. I played my heart out. Dad wouldn’t allow us to tackle, but of course, sometimes it couldn’t be helped. We played two-hand tag. When you are flying through the air to tag someone with both hands, you might land on them, hard.
I need to explain, I was only 5’3” and 97 lbs when I graduated high school and that was my heaviest weight at that time. I was tiny, but scrappy as all get out.
I asked my dad if I could play football when I was in jr. high. He looked at me like I had lost my mind and said very sternly, “no”. My heart was broken, I thought since my dad had taught me and knew that I could play, he would work against the school and the Board of Education for my benefit. I thought wrong and he would not allow his daughter to play. That ended the subject forever, I never asked again.
I always loved to watch football games in person and on TV with my dad. He gets very excited about the games and will pick them apart.
I have never lost my love for football, even though I never got to play on a real field, the fun I had playing in the yard is something I will never forget.
Football is something even girls can learn to play, watch and enjoy. Today females are allowed to play in pee-wee and up through the ranks. It is a game the entire family can enjoy playing or watching together.
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