They inch closer as I clutch onto the pigskin. Hands small, barely able to hold on between the laces. I have to choke up on the ball closer to an edge. Pulling back my right arm next to my ear and I with all my strength I roll the ball through my fingertips for a spiral that goes the distance. It always sails beyond their heads, because that’s where I wanted to put it.
This year Super Bowl 50 is in the Bay Area and in my town. Since Levi Stadium has erected it’s brought in a plethora of new shops and gentrified the area. A Whole Foods will be just a mile away shortly.
But honestly, that’s not what I wanted to talk about. What the Super Bowl also brings is a bunch of local emails about related Super Bowl City events. Today I get an email about an Uber flag football event staring Joe Montana. I was a fan, as watching football was something I used to do with my dad as a teenager.
Believe it or not, growing up I was a huge tomboy. Every Sunday my dad would take a couple hours break from work (he worked all the time) and I had this awesome Nerf spiral foam football that we’d throw across the front yard. It was tradition and how I practiced get the spiral just right.
Then in high school, I discovered fashion and suddenly I flipped to Sundays spent at the mall. My dad would still ask if I wanted to play every Sunday, but I’d just answer with “Meh.” Looking back at that, man, I was the quintessential selfish teenager to buy into ‘what was cool’, and not what was fun.
But we can’t change the past can we?
I don’t really follow sports regularly that much anymore, but I loved those Sundays, they meant so much to me. They mean so much to me. Nostalgia mixed with the normal teenager identity crisis. The feels I tell you, SB50, Joe Montana and Sundays on the front lawn throwing a Nerf football. All the feels.
Thanks Dad for teaching me how to properly throw a football.
