I didn't think their players looked that enormous- well, a couple were- that 300 pounder was pretty big! THey had plenty of normal looking kids. And some of ours looked hefty. I had been led to expect NFL linebackers.
I agree. The best team won. An amazing number of Miami fans were there, though. So it wasn't entirely hostile!
When we moved out here, Carroll was only 3A and very rural, but football was still the centerpiece of a quality education. The guidance counselor asked me if our boys played, and I said no, and she said, oh, that's too bad.
My younger one tried it in middle school because everyone did, but he only weighed 85 pounds and had never played, where most Texas boys are given a football to teeth on and start playing peewee football at age 2. I wrote about one of the games years ago on SI when for some reason we were talking about Texas Bubbas.
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BUBBAs are neat. I was standing next to one at a seventh grade football game last year and he started telling me how we needed a new stadium but all these damn new jacks (is that a bubba term?) kept movin' in and votin' down the money wantin' stuff like computers. ANd their kids don't know nothin bout football-lil scrawny things. And I, being shy and retiring, mildly mentioned that maybe the "jacks" thought education was a little more important than football. He pulled in his bubba gut, adjusted his gimme cap, and squared off with me.
"Football made me what I am today. Football taught me about life. I owe everythin' I am to my coach-he made a man of me"(I feel he was a tad belligerent).
"And I can tell you're very successful," said I politely, admiring his black t-shirt with "Southlake Feed Store" on it. However I was distracted from further comment as my 85 lb. son was now in the game. Not to worry-he had perfected the technique of leaping on piles of prostrate boys after the play was over and then high fiving everyone as they got up.
"Damn straight-these jack kids could use a little toughenin' up-God damn jacks think they can move in and change things..they don't know shit. Which one's your boy?"
"Ummm-#85" I lie, pointing to a 200 lb tackle.
"Hey--now he's a player" Bubba nods appovingly and pats me on the back. I am in.
It's the little episodes like this that keep us mindful of ....something. I know my life was the better for our brief encounter.
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