Ah, high school football season. There’s something about the crispness of the air, the sound of marching bands, the sight of a team kneeling around a coach, which makes a parent want to be a part of it all. This urge to volunteer may stem from sincere altruism, but one must beware that helping can be hard.
When you tell the Coach you want to help, you may think you are volunteering to send out e-mails, sell t-shirts, or bake cookies for the team dinners; however, by offering your assistance, no matter how specific, you have just leaped into a vast dark chasm of unlimited depths and unknown perils.
Say good-bye to the things you once held dear ÔÇô a clean house, home cooked meals, a good night’s sleep, free time, sanity ÔÇô because you have unwittingly accepted hazardous duty without pay, and you must now learn to survive.
At some point, the Coach will refer to you as “Team Mom.” Initially, you will be flattered, because the new title seems so loving, so nurturing. You will envision the players giving you side hugs as you bandage their boo boos and offer them freshly baked cookies.
Don’t be fooled. By accepting the title of “Team Mom,” you will now be expected to coordinate volunteers, type up and copy programs, raise thousands of dollars, plan the team banquet, throw a tailgate fundraiser, research and analyze complicated state regulations regarding high school athletics, and split the atom.
Additionally, you must watch out for The Haters. As soon as someone refers to you as “Team Mom,” you will have instant mortal enemies. The reasons are complicated, but it is proven fact that those two innocent-sounding words, when placed together and assigned to a middle aged housewife, incite extreme resentment, territorial hostilities, power struggles, bitter rivalries, and threats of violence.
For example, when the Booster Club president approaches you in an aggressive manner after the game and says, “So, who’s in charge here, YOU or ME?” what she really means is, “Listen —–, who the —- do you think you are coming along with your smiley face and your Bermuda shorts, trying to steal my limelight? Get this straight: I like getting my ego stroked, and you are cramping my style. So back off, —–, before I cut you.” [Expletives deleted.]
Or, there may be one particular parent who seems to have it out for you. In addition to killer glares and snide remarks, she may, for example, corner you during the tailgate fundraiser to rage about the “messed up” hot dog pricing. What she really means is, “Make no mistake about it, due to insecurities rooted in childhood, I have made it my goal to turn all the other moms against you because it makes me feel powerful. I’ll act like I’m going to kick your —, because I thrive on drama and conflict.”
As long as you have not lost control of your bowels, it is recommended that you smile, plead ignorance, and carry on as if nothing has happened. Oh, and it wouldn’t hurt to start carrying pepper spray and maybe keep a tire iron handy in your car.
Also, as Team Mom, you will now be the “inbox” for every imaginable parent grievance about play time, practice time, meeting time, position assignments, equipment distribution, fundraising, and penalty calls. Despite the fact that you have no real authority, the parents are really saying, “We have no intention of complaining directly to the Coach because it might negatively impact our sons, so when we feel like launching into a bitter rant of our frustrations, we will come to you and we expect you to take it like one of those inflatable clown punching bags.”
Other than publicizing the Coach’s cell phone number, the only thing you can do is learn how to look like a concerned listener, while you decide what to pick up for dinner or sing the refrain from “I Will Survive” repeatedly in your head.
Despite it all, try not to lose sight of why you volunteered in the first place. Remember that everything you do helps the team ÔÇô whether it’s selling snow cones at halftime, avoiding Mean Lady and Hostile Mom in the parking lot, or listening to another parent’s harangue about the odor of her son’s cleats. You will realize that all the hassle was worth it because the players are making lasting memories and learning life lessons, and you were a part of it all.
Finally, the most important tip for Team Moms to heed: Convince some other sucker to do the job next year.
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- “How you play the game” (themeatandpotatoesoflife.com)
And you thought all the violence took place ON the field!!
Oh the irony!
Good stuff, Lisa. I think you have the makings of a comedy reality program in this material. By the way, is all the food on the table for that big guy in the photo? And referring to your first paragraph, all the parents should be happy to know their sons are kneeling with teammates around their football coach instead of kneeling around a priest. Good luck Team Mom.
You haven’t heard the half of it, Mike! The big guy in the photo is the O-Line Coach Leroy. He used to be a Jacksonville Jaguar, if you can believe that. One of his jobs on the team is to offer the boys “Opportunities for Self Improvement” when they are late or miss practice. Needless to say, they are all highly motivated to come to practice on time! Oh, and get your mind out of the gutter, haven’t you ever heard a football coach yell “take a knee” for goodness sakes?
Great writing, so glad you can still laugh, even if it’s while you are crying. You’ve just made me sooooooooo glad I was never Team Mom.
It was fun when they were little, but high school football is another world — Dog eat dog!