Confession of a Football Addict
You've probably heard of the "soccer mom." Well, I am a football dad. And for me, and thousands like me, this is a sacred time of year. The big game is upon us. I need a moment... You'll have to excuse me if I get more than a little emotional right about now. It's just that it's such a special time.
OK, I can continue.
Yes, I am an admitted NFL-addict dad, and yes, I have been known to get a little misty-eyed the closer we get to the championship game. I grew up in Los Angeles and have fond memories of sitting in the stands at the coliseum with my dad, watching the Rams in a playoff game against the Minnesota Vikings. Joe Namath came off the bench in a last-ditch effort to win the game. I was 11, it was pouring down rain, the Rams lost, and I've been hooked ever since.
Today, I'm 38 and still a bona-fide NFL super-fan. But I also have a new, equally powerful addiction—my 2-year-old daughter, Jesse. Herein lies my dilemma: How does a dad such as myself, with only so many hours available on the weekends, continue his football habit and be the kind of dad I want to be—one who's available for my daughter during some of her most critical years?
Well, let me tell you, it has not been easy. The fact is they don't sell a patch that you can stick on your arm to quell the cold sweats and tremors associated with a "cold-turkey" NFL cessation—at least I couldn't find one. So now, football season requires some creativity on my part to fulfill my role as toddler-dad, and stave off any football addiction withdrawal.