“Gentlemen, it is better to die a small boy than to fumble this football.” -John Heisman
Football, football, football…
It’s all we talk about in the Keller house besides Jesus and cheerleading.
That’s because it’s recruiting season of my son’s senior year. And truthfully, it’s not as much fun as I thought it would be. It’s actually hard work and I’m not even the one playing a full contact sport.
Recruiting is stressful and nail-biting. Your kid get’s an offer from a school(s) and you feel so blessed. But then there are these “reach” schools lingering around dropping seductive hints. And they are the “wow” schools that dazzle and woo, but they don’t pull the plug and offer until they have to.
These are moments where you throw up your hands and say “screw that school” only to get a phone call from the coach fifteen minutes later to affirm their interest and then you love them all over again.
It’s like a bad dating relationship. You wait by the phone and they call just enough to get you all hot and bothered.
Okay, I know, I talk about my kid and recruiting in “we” terminology. Clearly I self-identify with my child. I took the helicopter parent test and failed. So now I just own it. Truthfully, I think every football parent heavily invested in their child thinks in terms of “we” instead of “he”–but that’s another blog.
The Unofficial Visit
So, this weekend my kid has a recruiting trip planned. It’s officially unofficial. So the university can only provide us with tickets to the game and other “free” amusements. Sadly for my kid, I’m coming along with his five-year-old sister. We are like the antithesis of cool.
When I asked my son what the game day will look like, he said it involved:
- A tour of the campus possibly hosted by sorority girls (come again?)
- Time meeting the players and coaches
- Maybe a side-line pass? (One for mom and little sis too?)
- Seats (hoping for 50 yard line)
- And finally…”maybe some of the players could take me out after the game and show me around…please mom?”
Clearly, they are trying to woo the son not the mother because I’m thinking more along the lines of:
- Campus Crusade for Christ ladies school tour (Hottest is modest, baby!)
- A time to talk discipline and study plans with the coaches
- The football team job placement program after graduation
- After-party worship concert praising Jesus for a big win.
- Free Kool-Aid and cookies served to potential recruits
Oh boy, who knew when I signed up my kid at age 7 for tackle football I would be here?
But honestly, the hardest part of recruiting is not the reality of sorority girls and parties, or the waiting, or the endless college applications, it’s the constant reminder of minutes slipping by.
Every time a coach calls (nightly) I am reminded my kid is leaving soon. Some parents “Yee Haw,” but I am more of a “Boo-Hoo” mom.
I confess I am happy and sad. I’m anxious for me but thrilled for him. Sometimes I want to shake this kid and force him to seize these crazy opportunities and go to the Ivy League, even if its far away, and then I change my mind two seconds later. I’m up and I’m down emotionally depending on the day. I lie in bed at night and hear him downstairs studying and I silently weep, knowing this little boy who changed my life and made me a mommy is packing up his room soon–and I can’t possibly take down the adorable football fathead of him. I can’t. I just can’t!
How does this joy and sorrow live side by side? Hey kid, thanks for getting a football scholarship and saving me money, but maybe I could pay to have you a little closer to home? Just kidding. Not.
How do mom’s do this? Is there a support network? I want to hold onto him forever but know he’s ready to go and would resent me if I tried.
AHHHH!!! Letting go sucks!
When I take the time to pray about this and surrender to God I am reminded of a few simple things. Here is the cry of my heart…
The Football Mama’s Prayer
Jesus, help me let go! I know I am merely a steward of this amazingly athletically gifted child who is about ready to launch into adulthood. I thank you for every minute with him. For the tantrums and blond curls, chubby cheeks and endless stinky football pads. I trust that I raised him to the best of my ability and it’s time let him go with a smile and an “‘atta boy!” and let you take over. The best school for my kid is the one that you lead him to–not me. I pray for wisdom in his choice.
I pray that football will be an outlet and a joy–not a job or a chore–because it’s been his passion since he can remember. I pray he stays sound in both body and mind and that you protect his physically, emotionally and spiritually. I also pray he meets a nice girl who loves you (and oh by the way, who grew up on the West Coast). I pray for his professors and peers and dorm mate, and that he is challenged to grow and push past his limits. I ask for courage and strength for my boy as he faces adversity and meets them head on. I surrender this young man to you Jesus and I thank you for football because this game changed both our lives. Amen.
Any advice or prayers, either on recruiting or letting go of my kid is welcome!
–Samantha
