This is my 9th season to actually care about football, my 6th as a coach’s wife, and my 3rd team to cheer for. Nine years ago, I met a tall, attractive red-head who adores a game where young men pummel each other while trying to move an odd-shaped ball from one end of a 100-yard field to the other. It’s interesting, to say the least. Before I allowed my heart to get carried away, I needed to see this man in action. He’s a coach, and I had seen many coach’s embarrass themselves and their family by screaming, cussing, and simply losing their cool. I knew I never wanted to be associated with that type of leader. SO I sat through a season of small-town football eagerly observing this man. He very, very rarely screamed. He never cussed. And I never once saw him lose his temper. After that, I let my heart get carried away. Little did I know, that two football seasons later, I would be a coach’s wife.
Now, here I am, married, and carting around two baby boys. This season has brought on a whole new set of challenges, and I’m going to document them here in an effort to keep my sanity, recall my many blessings, and perhaps see just how wonderful being around this crazy pig-skinned game can be.