Diary of a Reluctant Jewish Football Mom
Football and the magnitude of its pervasive culture in America (especially where I live in the South) is somehow lost on me and my Israeli husband. He is not familiar with the sport, probably because it pretty much doesn’t exist in Israel. His only knowledge of football is from the movies, the glorified stories of football heroes scoring goals and having their pick of the prettiest blonde cheerleaders, just like Friday Night Lights.
Although I was raised in Georgia, in high school I was drawn to the freaks, goths and weirdos (now commonly referred to as Emos) and snubbed my pierced nose at the football/cheerleader crowd. We were in cliques, and my clique simply did not engage in any football-related function or activity.
An American Obsession We Never Expected to Join
So it makes total sense that our older son has blossomed to be a football jock — emerging from flag football to a, linebacker position on his Junior Varsity team; already lauded with awards and praises for his abilities on the field. He is passionate and driven, waking up at 6:00 am to make practice ahead of classes. As parents, we support him as much as we can – signing him up to all the programming he asks for, buying gear, and taking him back and forth to tournaments, games and practices. There’s just one thing we can’t get our head around – the rough nature of the sport and the potential for injuries.
Risk vs. Reward on the Field
There is a tacit understanding that Jewish mothers do not allow their sons to play football (outside of their own backyards). It’s a high-risk sport, and we are highly anxious as it is – we don’t need the risk of a head injury to induce more anxiety
We’ve had many friends ask us – how and why we allow our son to play. I reason the good outweighs the bad – the sense of responsibility, sportsmanship, dedication, and perseverance are just some of the qualities he’s getting as he’s a vital member of the team.
The First Injury: A Broken Nose and Broken Nerves
But all of this rationalization came into question last Saturday when my son got on the field for his first tournament with his team, playing 7 on 7 (with no gear). Within the first few minutes -my son rammed into another player and busted his nose. After a trip to the urgent care and subsequent follow-up at an ear, nose and throat doctor it was official: its broken. Which means it has to be “reset” a procedure performed under anesthesia.
My husband and I have weak stomachs. And we know that this is just the beginning of his football career and there is the potential for more injuries. We voice our concerns – and urge him to take up another sport. “You are an amazing basketball player”, we muse. “You are more likely to get a full-ride scholarship if you take up a less popular sport, like rowing,” we suggest. But he’s adamant. “Let me decide when I want to quit rather than you forcing me,” he declared.
Until that day comes, we will continue to support and cheer on our son, The Linebacker.
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