I wish all of my sons could have played football
As one son's season nears its end, I wonder about games that won't happen
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I sat in the front row of the football stadium, watching my second-oldest son, Chance, 17, play football. It’s his senior year, and I’ve been front and center at each game.
That front row has the accessible seating, which helps because Chance has three brothers living with Duchenne muscular dystrophy (DMD): Max, 18, Rowen, 15, and Charlie, 13. And they attend almost every one of Chance’s games. But even if they didn’t go, I’d still sit in the front row, no matter what. It’s his final football season, after all.
The rows behind me were reserved for high school alums celebrating their 10-year reunion, but the accessible seating was open to anyone. As the game started, our eyes immediately began to follow Chance, No. 11, around the field. We held our breath for kickoff, extra points, punts, and all his play on the defensive line and as an offensive tight end. We’re used to seeing him all over the field in most every role.
The alums behind us, however, couldn’t believe No. 11 was everywhere. They started talking about him loud enough that we could hear. Once they realized we followed the team each week, they asked us about No. 11. I told them he was my son.
They wanted to know where he’d play football next year, and were surprised to find out he’d play college baseball instead.
We didn’t win the game. It was tied at halftime, but things didn’t go right for us in the second half, and we lost by more than 20 points. Nonetheless, I was proud as I watched my son run out of every huddle; he never gave up.
Chance has only two regular season games left, though we’re still in the running to make playoffs. Even with the hope of a couple more postseason games, Chance’s final days of football are upon us.
It makes me want to cry. Only this morning, I was looking at my Facebook memories with pictures of his final midget football (elementary league) game. His team had won the championship. The memory was from six years ago, but it seemed only days ago. It’s remarkable how fast six years can go by.
Chance also played flag football before he was old enough to tackle. I’ll have had the privilege of watching him play for 11 years. That’s plenty of football, but somehow, I feel as if it all went too fast.
Other players?
What if all of my sons had been able to play football? I thought that out loud to my husband as I was grieving the dwindling days of Chance’s final season.
My oldest son, Max, probably never would’ve played sports. His propensity for the stage and performance presented itself long before the symptoms of Duchenne.
Rowen, however, is an entirely different story. I know with every fiber of my being that this year he would’ve started both ways on the line, even as a sophomore. He would’ve had one year to be on the team with Chance. And even after Chance had left to pursue college baseball, I would’ve had more years of watching Rowen play football.
Rowen reminds me so much of his dad, Jason, an all-state high school offensive lineman who was inducted into his college football hall of fame with his team. He was a great player. Rowen would have been the same, except he would’ve been 4 or 5 inches taller and played for a bigger football program.
Charlie likes being in the band and enjoys being a manager, even though he’s so sweet and sensitive. Football may not have been his sport. Then again, his brother Chance was also sweet and sensitive at Charlie’s age and became an outstanding high school football player. Charlie may have been much the same.
I wish all of my boys had had the opportunity to play football. The life lessons the sport has taught my husband and Chance are too many to list. Max, Rowen, and Charlie would’ve learned those lessons, too, if they’d played.
But Duchenne has been a harsh teacher in some of those same life lessons. Maybe I want to save them from Duchenne’s brutality because football is gentler. Perhaps I want to save myself from the heartbreak of watching my sons deteriorate in front of my eyes.
Put simply: Instead of the grief for things we never had or lost too fast, we could’ve had a simple life full of another decade of football and typical high school experiences for all of my sons. I wish.
Note: Muscular Dystrophy News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or another qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Muscular Dystrophy News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to muscular dystrophy.
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