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Since the 1950's, football has been a sport available to school kids to learn, play and in some cases evolve within. Millions of us played; some for a year or two, while others played until they realized they were not going to get big enough, or talented enough for the next level. Regardless, the passion for the game, indeed the overwhelming obsession that develops to watch the sport continues on.

We feel the urge when summer reaches that last few weeks, the really hot ones that tell us instinctually that it is almost time. We put up our baseball gloves and pull out the pickle and begin to dust ourselves off, build ourselves up and ready ourselves to take it all out on the field. When it's over, for a little better than 95% of us anyway, there is nothing left but to watch.

The smell of the grass, the taste of sweat and dust and the soft plastic of a mouth piece are familiar to most of the fans seen in the crowds. We understand what is happening from more than just a watcher's point of view; we've been there, done that, felt it, loved it and been hurt by it all before, whether in Pop Warner, Jr. or Sr. high; we know the feel of impact and the power unearthed as two or more bodies collide in a furious and heart-stopping skirmish over a field that has been neatly lined into a grid of iron.

Once we can no longer take part in the action, we are compelled, by primal forces of nature, to come and oversee the spectacle of the game on the college and professional levels, where the men are larger and faster than we remember and we are fascinated by the amazing athletic ability of some, or the poor, letdown performance of others.

Our wives and daughters have been subject to this intense game as well; to all of our screaming at the TV and our willingness to spend unspeakable amounts of money to go and see a game, and through osmosis they too have, in a largely growing segment of our populous, become fans; even if they are fans without the knowledge of the pain and the glory and the personal satisfaction that playing the sport developed in their husbands, brothers, fathers or sons.

Sure, there are tons of folks who enjoy watching their favorite team simply because that team is part of the community they live in- -nothing wrong with that. We understand; you can not help yourself; this game gets under your skin, takes hold and will not let go of you.

Learn more about this author, S Bond Herndon.
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