The greenness of the grass. The smell of the sausage cart outside the stadium. The size of the scoreboard.
Sports is my obsession. And these were some of the first observations I made as a kid at my first real sporting events. They are days that live on in my head as epic introductions. They are experiences I am eager for my kids, Cooper and Milo to have and share with me.
They now stand as a testament to the patience my parents must have had with me. While the game is rewarding, as a parent, I’ve found it almost never goes the way you envision.
“The game starts. Kid #1 immediately has to pee. And no, dad, he can’t hold it.”
Whether it’s football, baseball, basketball or hockey, I have now attended enough to see how most of these events play out:
6:15 p.m. Standing in line to be let into the stadium, after preaching patience in the car ride here, give them one last reminder.
6:17 p.m. Kids are running amok everywhere as they declare this brutal line is the worst thing ever!
6:25 p.m. After passing through security, I sense my wallet clutching my leg as a sea of merchants open up to my all-too-eager-to-spend kids.
6:41 p.m. We find our seats in Section 109. I turn to watch their faces show awe at seeing the arena for the first time. They are awestruck … by the size of the cotton candy bag the vendor is carrying.
7:05 p.m. The game starts. Kid #1 immediately has to pee. And no, dad, he can’t hold it.
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7:11 p.m. We return to our seats for the first of many “I’m hungry” calls of supposed tummy pain, even though I loaded them with enough carbs prior to the game to feed a small city.
7:12 p.m. As I exit to get the asked-for snacks, a raucous cheer of a big play by our team explodes through the stadium—one that I missed by mere moments.
7:25 p.m. I finally reach the front of the line to order, laughing at the sight of a nearby advertisement for loan consolidation. “That sounds about right,” I think to myself as I consider putting a lien on my house to afford the snacks.
7:36 p.m. Kid #1 has to pee again. Kid #2 is still just fine, dad. Just fine.
7:43 p.m. Kid #1 and I return. Kid #2 is not fine any more dad! Not fine! He needs to pee, now!
7:54 p.m. Children start getting cranky as their attempts to dance in the aisles and get on the giant scoreboard are wasted on other talentless kids.
8:08 p.m. Kid #2 is dead set on starting the wave and trying to get everyone in our section’s attention. No wave yet.
8:14 p.m. Wave starts on the opposite end of the stadium. Mom and I quickly reassure him he was the inspiration.
8:18 p.m. Kids want to “go for a walk” which is code for “I would like to walk by vendors and have you shower me with team-colored gifts!” Two foam fingers, hats and a collector’s cup of juice later, I am roughly $80 poorer.
8:45 p.m. Exhaustion begins to set in, as all questions are different variations of “We can go now, right?”
9:01 p.m. Decide to pack up and go despite a close game as the first meltdown reaches a breaking point that all of Section 109 is about to suffer.
9:31 p.m. Listen to radio announcer lose his mind at a game-winning play that you “just had to be there to see!”
10:09 p.m. Tuck kids into bed upon reaching home.
Kids: Dad, that was the best time ever! Thanks.
10:35 p.m. Check the team schedule for the next game to do it all again, realizing the time spent together was worth every moment.
See you soon, Section 109.
Josh Farnsworth is a national-award-winning parenting columnist who lives with his wife and two goofball sons. You can reach him for column ideas at josh.farnsworth@yahoo.com.
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