Football

So, like I said before, I have all these pictures to post, and things to catch up on, but I was out playing catch this evening, and instead I want to ramble about football for awhile. 

I really like football.  But I don’t mean watching pro football or actually playing by official football rules or anything like that.  Mainly what I mean is, I like to play CATCH with the football.  It really is one of my favorite things.  So, I feel like reminiscing a bit, so if you’re in the mood for some “back-in-the-glory-days” stories, keep reading.

I think I started liking it a lot when I was in high school.  I would play catch with Derek or my mom or sometimes Wyatt and after my brother-in-law Jared moved to Minot, with him.  (And can I just say that he has a bullet that is pretty much the fastest and scariest I’ve ever had the pleasure of catching.) 

One memory that I love is when our friends the Veazeys had a barbeque at their house on Memorial Day (I think), and had a whole bunch of families over, and all the kids around mine and Kami’s and Wyatt’s age started playing football (the Nordquists and others), and of course it started out two-hand touch, but moved to tackle and we were so hot and sweaty and we kept playing and playing and it was so fun.  One of those memories that makes life as a kid seem so idyllic. 

I remember when Brett and I were engaged and it was about a week before our wedding we were playing catch together with Drew in front of our apartment and I jammed my finger, and of course it was my wedding ring finger, and I was like- oh, awesome—now my pictures of our rings at our wedding with include a black and blue finger.  But I think it got better really quick, so it wasn’t.

I remember one time our ward in Indiana we had a ward activity at the park, and the missionaries were there, and one was a big guy from Tonga, and we somehow started playing catch and we were way way far apart and were just bombing it to each other, and afterwards he was like, “man-I haven’t thrown it that far to a girl before in my life, and you were getting it right back to me.”  (I have a bit of a pride problem when it comes to my throwing arm.  Need to work on that.)

I always brought my football with me to YW activities and would play catch afterwards with the guys.  My high school had a powder puff football game fundraiser against a different high school, and I was one of the few girls on the team that could actually throw the ball.  It was fun- we won (though nothing really glorious from me in the game).

So I went to my email and searched for ‘football’ and it came up with a couple fun stories.

This was one I wrote to my sister:

I was playing catch with my football between
games with Brother Allred, and he can throw with his
right and left arm, and by the end he said, "You've
tired me out---BOTH my arms."  He also said I could be
quarterback on his flag football team.  Thankyou.  I
know.

Another time I wrote my brothers and sisters asking about some wedding details my mom wanted me to decide and I had no idea, so I wanted their advice.  My brother Derek helped me out with these words of wisdom (each in a separate email):

WE CARE EVEN LESS THAN YOU, LOVE DEREK

BUT HEY LET'S PLAY SOME FOOTBALL WHEN YOUR
DOWN.LOVE,DEREK

YO YO YO KAYLI  LOVE,DEREK

LATER.  LOVE,DEREK

And my sister Andrea wrote about our powder puff football game we had at USU (just a really casual thing between apartment buildings):

The second major error of Kami's letter was not
mentioning the football game we played Saturday
morning.  I slept at Kayli's house so I would be there
for the game.  We were awesome. Kayli caught a
beautiful pass for the one and only touchdown, and
Kami and I were stern and unforgiving linesmen who
stopped . . . everything--hence the other teams dismal
0 point final score.  Kami made one of the most
incredible flag pulling when the runningback ran to
the outside, and Kami, on her way to grab the flag,
slipped on the ice, and GRABBED THE FLAG WHILE SLIDING
ON HER TOUSHIE (how does one spell that?)!  IT WAS
PHENOMENAL!  We were awesome.

Okay, and the following stories which Andrea told in the same email have absolutely nothing to do with football, but were funny, so I’m sharing anyway (plus it talks about one of the first times Brett and I did something together—play pool.  I think it may have been that very week that we started liking each other):

First and foremost, Kami failed to mention that when
Andrew and Brett challenged Kayli and I to a pool
game, that I HAD NEVER PREVIOUSLY PLAYED POOL, and
Kayli only once or twice.  And we still beat them.
Three times.  (That was another of Kami's errors, she
mentioned one win--when there were many.)  They were
humiliated, beaten down, and grossly disenfranchised,
but Kayli and I did not spare them.  We gloated.
Often and with fervor unlike any gloating that has
come before.

Another gross error in Kami's letter was in respect
to the bull riding we did on Kayli's couch.  After
watching the okay movie 8 Seconds we rigged the
couches (put one on top of the other) so we could have
our own bullriding.  It was awesome.  We were awesome.
I was injured.  While Kami was riding the bull, and
Kayli and I were moving the couch around, Kami swung
her arm back and HIT ME IN THE MOUTH RUDELY AND
WITHOUT CAUSE.  The injury was not life threatening,
but Kayli and I started laughing so hard we let go of
the couch so Kami fell off, and we all layed on the
floor laughing hysterically for several minutes.  My
stomach hurt worse than my mouth.  It was hilarious,
and thus unfortunate that Kami chose not to share it
with you.

Okay, now let me tell you about the time when playing catch saved my sanity.  Once upon a time  I was pregnant with my first baby who was due in August sometime, and that was good because I was taking a summer class of Human Anatomy taught by Andy Anderson, which class is THE SINGLE MOST INFAMOUS and DREADED class at Utah State (very good class, just takes a LOOOOT of work).  So anyway, I had Jethro three weeks early to my surprise, and so was still in the class.  I called my professor from the hospital and told him that I had missed a test because I had had a baby.  He told me that was fine, I could come in the next day and take it, or I could drop that score (one test score was dropped).  I was like, umm, I’ll still be in the hospital tomorrow, I guess I’ll drop it.  So thus began the closest I’ve ever come to a mental breakdown, as over the next week or two I was in terrible discomfort, having had many many stitches, and I had to go to the cadaver lab still (I had Brett come with me for support, and when we got to the bottom of the staircase we had to climb I honestly about started crying, and Brett was like, “do you want me to carry you?”), I failed the next test I took, and I started to think that I would never be able to finish school and that I had made a big mistake and my life was ruined (remember, this is postpartum me speaking).  I remember calling my lab leader guy because the professor went out of town, and I was crying on the phone to him and he was being really nice but was probably thinking I was psycho.    ANYWAY.  I remember after a few days when I felt a little better physically, Brett and I went to the park, had Jethro sitting there in his car seat, and played catch.  And for the first time I felt like I could breathe, and a little bit like there just may be hope for our life.   (Postpartum hormones are dreadful.)  So there you go, playing a little catch saves your mental life.

Another time I remember when Jethro was still a baby, we went to a ward activity, and Brett and I sat Jethro down on a blanket near us, and we started playing catch, and Brett threw it to me, and I touched it but didn’t catch it and it ricocheted right onto Jethro’s head.  THAT was embarrassing.  And sad for poor little Jethro.

And that is the end of my reminiscing about football.