It is unseasonably warm at MGN HQ. The weather has been in the 80s, and while the leaves are turning orange and brown the sun is beating down upon us. It is too hot to wear the newly purchased fleece wear my wife had so carefully chosen for this fall season.
As a native Texan, I am used to this. I write ‘unseasonably’ from a Midwestern perspective, but many autumns in Texas have conditioned me to always have shorts and t-shirts at the ready. On the day I moved out of my home in San Antonio, I was wearing a tank-top, shorts, and sandals1and as I drove the U-Haul through Oklahoma we hit a cold front. When I stopped for gas, the weather was 17 degrees Fahrenheit. Yes, 17. When I left it was 77. We had to stop at a Burlington to buy coats just to make it through the rest of the drive.
I was surprised to learn this summer that some people consider Saint Louis to be warm, and hot. “The summers are terrible.” I was shocked. I find them mild and pleasant. Sure, there are a couple of days of 100° weather but coming from South Texas where the summer is about how many consecutive days of reaching the century mark than anything else I can deal with it. So what if it is 89°? That’s mild, my friend.
“It’s going to get cold next week,” says Mrs. MGN.
I have been ready to greet the fall and the cool weather for about a month or so. Last fall, as we wrapped up the fall session of our coed soccer league I found myself feeling the cool wind on my face on an early November day and thinking how much I enjoyed it. I tried to appreciate every moment, as I knew it wouldn’t last.
I hope the schedule lines up where our last fall session game has some of that cool weather. My summer recreational league has been filled with 11am games in the dead of the heat and that has tested my limits of heat tolerance. These plastic turf fields reflect the heat right back at you and your feet are on fire. Still, I try to enjoy even the terrible days, as one day I will not be able to do it and I will long for the hot and terrible days.
Life is long, but the sections thereof are short. You are only a child for a decade or so. You are only a teenager for less than that. Your twenties are short, and soon it hurts to do the same things you “always” did.
Part of the fun in enjoying college sports is holding on to a part of your life that is long past. I am not nearly as young, (thin), or energetic as I was. Rooting and supporting the alma mater lets me stay connected that time, and the people who were a big part of that time.
When I was young I (like many of you I imagine) was skeptical of tradition. It seemed like cruft. Like old people who were out of touch trying to hang on. I see the value much more now, as I get older. It is a way of reaching through time and connecting to other people my same age, and younger and older. Traditions should be maintained like a garden. They should be tended to, and pruned when they get unruly and overtake new growth of other plants. Each one has its place, and contributes to the whole. I wish I could tell younger self some of these things, but as I tell my kids: I don’t have a time machine. So I tell you, so you can know. It is the next best thing. So it goes.
I have found that the best way to show the kids is to do things. I have to show that We Care About These Things by Caring About These Things. It is exhausting and well, I fall short all the time because I am Just A Guy. But therein is an opportunity to learn also. How do you do these things while simply being human? So I fail, and I try to make up for my mistakes and hopefully my children learn from that example as imperfect as it is.
Tonight, my Friday rec league team was blown out by our rivals. I played okay, but I missed some good chances. I feel terrible — in a sporting way — , and I want to get better. My team was upset but also happy to lose together. We are friends and we built our team with guys we like to play with and even lose with. It is good to compete. It is terrible to lose. It is also motivating. Here’s hoping our favorite little football team is burning with righteous fury. GMG
I call them chanclas because yes, my name is Martínez.
Let’s snatch bowl eligibility from the jaws of defeat and GO Mean Green!
🦅🟢⚪️🏈 GMG!