The impact sports had on me growing up

For whatever reasons, while extremely young (thru about age six or so), I was kinda the neighborhood wimp. While a lot of the kids played all the rougher games, like football, I sat on the sidelines. I was far more into listening to my records and pretty much obsessing in them without giving really any thought to most sports. Oh, I tried a hand at the church team’s baseball, and found it less than satisfying in terms of results, both personally and as a squad (we lost every game and felt “victorious” in losing the last game only 14-4).

But, when pressed enough times by the next-door neighbors, I hesitatingly got into the mix of one late autumn’s yard football game shortly after I’d turned seven. It was a stereotypically cool, overcast November day, and I knew nothing about how to play. I also didn’t find a lot of love for the contact—getting popped pretty good had its price. Somehow, though, that physical discomfort was easily overwhelmed by the sense of belonging—being encouraged throughout the event. Those same kids in the area—who had taunted me quite frequently in the past—were patting me on the back for my wayward efforts, none of which probably helped our side succeed.

Regardless, though I didn’t know it at the time, I’d found my first love beyond the vinyl music world. It wasn’t long before I was the one getting kids around the block together to play yard football whenever possible. I should add that the vast majority were older than me, some by several years (we had ages about 7-12 out there). Fortunately, the bigger ones knew how to limit their “boom” factor, but the bottom line is success came to me through my great zeal for the game.

More on the wondrous nature that the game of football brought to my childhood world in the near future, including the enormous enjoyment of watching on television or checking out the radio’s action.