By BETH PROBST
Let’s talk football for a minute.
I think there are two important things to highlight here — I know very little about football and I was crushing on Travis Kelce before Taylor Swift knew he existed. Sure, I love a good Swift song, but I don’t qualify as a Swifty. I digress. Back to the game.
I love watching football with my son. In addition to a fun time talking smack to each other (we inevitably cheer for opposite teams because that’s what moms and sons do), it is an opportunity to instill life lessons. Yep, I’m that mom. Constantly looking for subtle or not so subtle opportunities to expose my son to lessons I wish I had known back in the day.
Everyone loves an underdog. There’s something about watching people put everything on the line — only to come up short. After all, isn’t that what life is about? To pursue something wholeheartedly knowing there is a very good chance it won’t work out? That you may find yourself congratulating someone equally as passionate as you for grabbing your dream right out of your hands? Marketing whiz Simon Sinek once said, “To succeed takes more than the desire to win. It also takes the acceptance we could fail.”
So true in life. But even more so in football. Rarely is it as finite as the Super Bowl — where success is measured in yards, completed passes and the ability to knock your opponent down, only to give him a hand to help him up, knowing that when the next ball snaps, he’s coming for you. Where your worth is measured in individual plays and your collective ability to win. Where speculations come from the experts, who analyze your every move and draw conclusions about you from the comfort and safety of the sidelines. Where distractions like halftime performances, fans and overly produced commercials consume every second of downtime.
Then it’s over. Just like that. There are clear winners and losers. Or are there? It is unlikely the 22 players on the field will ever experience such extraordinary highs and lows again in their lifetime. But these moments will become memories they will cherish for a lifetime. Long after the commentators are done speculating and rehashing every player’s move, after the commercials are retired to a YouTube vault, and after the trophy is tucked away in a case, the players will still relish in the magic of the moment.
I quit sports in middle school. But my competitive spirit lives on. I vividly remember the elbows thrown, the high fives, the unlikely sound of a swoosh as a Hail Mary shot goes in the hoop, and the bitter taste of disappointment when discovering your best wasn’t good enough to win. The decision to quit when it no longer served me. But now I experience joy in talking smack and shooting hoops with my son. It might not be the Super Bowl, but as a mama who struggled to get pregnant for years, I feel like a champion.
It makes sense. As Sinek summed it up: “No one likes to lose, and most healthy people live their life to win. The only variation is the score we use. The metric is relative, but the desire is the same.”
The great thing about life, unlike football, is that you get to choose your method of scoring. Do you measure success by your bank account or your memory bank? By your status in society or your integrity? Do you pursue the life you want or the life others want for you? Are you the player who knocks others down to get what you want or pulls others up with you? Keeping score isn’t nearly as important as knowing what makes up your scorecard. As my son grows older, I hope he knows and understands that. It is a lesson that took me far too long to learn, only to realize I needed to relearn it again many, many times on and off the field.
If you are interested in reading more random articles about parenting struggles and the pursuit of living an extraordinarily ordinary life, check out my website, bethprobst.com, where you can sign up for my newsletter and read more of my ramblings about rural living.