When Jackson was born into the Wells family, a strong lineage of sports watching men, he was automatically inducted into a society that was unbeknownst to me. And I am his mother. Surely, I knew that Jackson would be a Patriots and Red Sox fan by default, and that he would just grow to love them on his own, but I never imagined what it would be like to see the metamorphasis take place so quickly...
The Patriots opened their season this evening with Jackson and dad in their matching jerseys. The little munchkin ran around screaming and laughing at the television, literally throwing his arms in the air in extreme excitement and definite focus. It was as if he really knew and understood that last year, at this exact time, Bernard Pollard sealed the fate of Brady 7 minutes into the game, and that Jackson truly did miss his first Patriots season. He was ready. He was ready to go this year.
Jackson won't be a fair-weather fan. He will be devoted fully to the New England teams. I'd be surprised if he didn't already know that Ben Coates was his dad's favorite player, and that Steve Grogan was his grandpa's favorite Patriot. I have no doubt in my mind that Jackson will denounce the "new logo" and insist that Pat the Patriot is the best man for the job.
Here's what sealed the deal of Jackson's devotion to New England teams. The year was 1986, the World Series against the Mets, and the Red Sox were one out away from winning the world series. Mookie Wilson hit a slow roller up the first base line, and you know the rest of the story . . . well, Jackson's grandpa slowly got up from his chair all unassuming, made his way to the bathroom, and puked. He then went to bed. The rest is history. Jackson is destined to be a New England sports fan, winners or losers, he'll always have hope until that last minute, or hold a grudge until the next season, but never for too long. He is a fan.
Th one thing I learned today: I didn't really need to buy that "Football for Idiots" book in order to be a part of Mike's Sunday afternoon. Like Jackson, if I just scream, give some high fives, and throw my hands in the air, I'll eventually absorb what's really happening in the game, and I can just enjoy it in the meantime.
3 comments:
While I truly miss being up there, I think you should be glad we were not there tonight. Uncle Chris was screaming so loud at the end of the game he positively would have woken Jack, not to mention the entire condo complex (if they weren't watching the game themselves)!
You'll have to go get some Football Ritz Crackers for Jack and his dad to share at game time. Have you seen them? YUM!
Looks like I'm going to have to borrow that book. It's obvious it can't all be about how the players look in their uniforms anymore!
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