What Fall Means to Me

Around 3 years old..ready to cheer on dad's team

If you have read the “About Me” section, you know that I love football. Those who know me well know that it has been a huge part of my life. My mother loves to tell others that I went to my first football game at 4 months old and that I grew up watching game film on Saturday mornings instead of cartoons. Unlike some girls, I can name all the positions on the field and can tell you what the penalty is going to be before the official announces it. Why do I know these things? Because I grew up as a coach’s daughter, a title I have always worn with pride.

Although it wasn’t always glamorous and pretty, I loved growing up the way I did. We didn’t always take a big summer family vacation like some of my friends did, because my dad was getting a football field ready for the fall. I can remember many trips to the field to turn the sprinklers on or off. I can remember helping him use diesel to mark the lines on the field in the heat of August or playing around as he mowed the grass. I can remember the fall Friday nights. I can still feel the chill in the air and hear the band songs playing. Those things still signal to me that it is football season. Even though I remember all of these things vividly, the one thing that will always stick out in my mind the most is my dad. He poured almost 30 years of his life into students: first as a football coach and then as a principal and athletic director. This past year, one of the players he had coached passed away. When my parents went to the visitation, the mother of the player told my dad how much he had always meant to her son and thanked him for the impact he made in his life. I have seen that in the eyes of these men over and over when they see my dad around town. Although I have never heard him say it quite this plainly, I know he never coached to see how many ball games he could win. He wanted to help young men ... which is why I will always wear my title as a coach’s daughter with pride.