As I watched my grandson’s football practice, I expected to hear a lot of encouraging cheers and backseat coaching from the parents in the stands. There was some of that – usually a father threatening his son to make a tackle “or else” before turning to nearby mothers to claim it was only a joke. What I did not expect was to have my ears buzzing with noisy fathers talking about everything but the game. I came away with more information than I care to know. There was boasting about jobs, women, their own former football days, and talk about professional sports. I truly tried to tune them all out, leaning forward in my seat as close as I could get to the field and even moving away at one point. It was difficult as they were all around me. There were plenty of mothers also but they sat quietly watching the game.
The first annoying father was on a cell phone talking business, pacing back and forth in front of the nearby bleachers. I’m pretty sure he was trying to impress the crowd with how important he was. He only impressed me by how rude he was. Fortunately, I was in a chair off to the side or I may have borrowed his cell phone and done something with it he wouldn’t appreciate. Another two were flexing their muscles, disagreeing about whose job was more difficult – a laborer and either a supervisor or owner of a company. An offer was made to switch jobs to prove the point. Another pair was gossiping noisily about everyone they both knew over the past ten years, particularly women, and reliving their high school football years.
The conversation that disturbed me the most was the divorced father telling someone that he only had his son every other weekend so he had a lot of free time. He made it sound as if that was a good thing, even talking about the little he “had” to do for his son, such as attending the practice that night. I can give him some telephone numbers of some grandfathers who felt the same way when they were young. Now they are regretting the lost years with their children, some trying to make it up with their grandchildren. Others try to throw money at their adult children, hoping it will erase some guilt. Still more just seem to live with the regret, feeling sorry for themselves. That is time that is gone forever. The scars may be covered up but not healed and there is nothing that can give those years back. Hopefully, he is a better father than he came across to me in the few sentences I overheard. If not, I hope he learns what is important before he is a grandfather wishing he could have these years back.