UT - It Doesn't Mean the Same Here

When we moved to Tennessee two years ago, I wondered why so many people were UT fans. Hundreds of miles from Texas, and yet I seriously thought they were referring to the Longhorns. One day I finally realized there were two UTs, and my new friends were not wanna-be Texans. They bled orange but for a different school. 

These same friends have a deep passion for their own UT and are doing everything in their power to convert Keagan.

This weekend he went to the UT football game with one of his best friends.

Keagan reported the fans were amazing, the stadium was impressive, and the excitement "catching". 

I have one thing to say. Hurry up November and the A&M game we have tickets to see!

Who's the Toughest

 

In the spirit of cooler weather and football season, Keagan and his friend Alex have been busy every afternoon playing football. They have developed a rigorous training schedule complete with cone drills, intricate running plays, and conditioning moves that Keagan asserts will make Alex "tougher."

 

 

Thursday they decided they needed to put their own names on the back of their jerseys. They spent half an hour searching the craft boxes for the correct letters and then used several rolls of tapes attaching each letter to the jerseys. At last they were ready to play, but within half an hour, Keagan had been tackled on a bed of rocks that left scrapes and cuts all across his back and rib cage. He deemed himself injured and too sore to continue playing. Alex called him a wet towel and the game was suspended indefinitely. Oh, the irony! Who is the toughest now?

 

 

 

 

 

With



It's Just Unacceptable

Football season is coming to a close, and I couldn't be happier. There's been no need for pinto bean laden milk jugs with our team's slow demise. We lost the backup QB to a move to Korea; we lost another player to stitches, and we lost several more back in week three when we put on pads. Our team of four, one of those weighing in at the colossal weight of 43 pounds, never had a chance. I think our cheerleaders have even given up on cheering for us. They have resorted to spending the last two quarters on the playground because there are just so many times you want to yell, "Let's go defense. Let's go!"

Tuesday night our frustration levels were maxed out. It was apparent the football gods had deserted us because we had only one play with any yards gained, and it was due to a penalty. In the second half of the game, Keagan had had enough. After getting pulled to the ground by his face mask, the tiniest guy on the field looked up at the ref and fired back, "Are you going to call that, Ref? He's face maskin' me and holdin' me. This is just unacceptable!"

I think I might have said that a time or two myself.

Thursday is our last game. Forget winning. Forget scoring. My single prayer is to survive another loss and the guaranteed bad calls.

Football Highlights

Despite my screams of "go, go, go", Keagan wants to watch this over and over again. We oblige until it becomes over-the-top-annoying, like after the third time we push replay. A few years ago, I would have made fun of a mom yelling in shrills loud enough to break windows. Today I could care less because it is my boy scoring two touchdowns, a safety, and making eight flag pulls per game. When I see the stares, I want to taunt with something like, "Hey, you'd be doing the same if your son could perform like mine." And then I realize that I have taken football mom to a level that exceeds what I had become as soccer mom. And that was bad. This week I promise to sit quietly on the sidelines. 

I am convinced my poor quality video clips will be shown on some pre-game show on a Saturday afternoon before one nationally televised game. If this doesn't come to fruition (and I can't even begin to imagine why it wouldn't), then I will take comfort in knowing their successes are not figments of my imagination.