I imagine this is not true for everyone, but in the great state of Alabama football is king. I'm sure everyone has heard of the two little teams at Alabama and Auburn (Roll Tide! Although I have to add in a Wahoowa for U.Va.'s great season), and football is definitely the biggest sport at my high school. We take our football seriously.
So down here at home, this is not just a lead up to the holidays; this is prime football time. Now it is time for me to make a confession - I left early for break. Shame on me, I know, but I have been hoarding absences for the entire year to make this happen. Anyway, the point of that excusatory digression is that last night I went to my brother's high school football game.
Now for a little recap that you might be interested in. During break, my little brother and the rest of my high school's football team hopped on a bus to travel an hour away for a playoff game. Three buses of students and innumerable parents and fans also made the trek. We all stayed out watching that game until our feet were numb, our hands were bruised from wringing and our teeth were close to cracking from clenching. Finally our boys lost by one touchdown after three overtimes in a real heartbreaker, but to tell the truth I was a little relieved.
High school football is pretty amazing if you think about it. A bunch of high school boys sign up to get clobbered on the field again and again. Some of those boys will never play in a game for a significant amount of time, but they endure brutal two-a-day practices anyway. Despite injuries and issues, these boys just keep playing. But the boys are not the only ones for whom I gained a sense of admiration. And now it is time for this column to actually begin to relate to its title.
When I was younger I was pretty interested in sports. I have sampled many a sport and in high school I did track, played basketball and even tried a season of lacrosse. My athletic career was hindered, however, by a string of unfortunate injuries. I was a (sometimes) walking heap of faulty ligaments and other issues. Remember that fad on Facebook where you would tag your friends in a sort of chart of labeled pictures? I actually got tagged as the one who is always hurt. Possibly the thing about which I learned the most in high school was orthopedic injury. All of those injuries and surgeries were physically quite unpleasant, but emotionally they were not that big of a deal. Maybe I am just a bit dense or had one head wound too many, but despite the fact that I kept getting hurt I never really worried about it until afterward. The fact that playing sports was an injury minefield never made an impact on me. Until my little brother tore up his knee last year.
What I learned going to the football game is how absolutely panic-inducing it can be to watch someone you love in a situation in which they might get hurt. Of course, it is possible to get hurt in any situation at any time - downer thought, I know - but there is something about knowing the heightened risk of injury that is enough to make you want to grind your teeth down to sad, flat herbivore nubs. I never worried about myself when I continued playing basketball after my third surgery, but watching my baby brother after his just about undid me. I guess that's one of the things about getting older and more knowledgeable. You become a responsible party with a handle on the risks, and worry becomes a new tenant in the apartment of your life.
Alex's column runs biweekly Wednesdays. She can be reached at a.davis@cavalierdaily.com.
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