Testosterone Chaser

We are the champions. We are the champions of the world. That would be the UNDEFEATED SEASON champions of the world At least that's what it felt like. Actually, that's what it feels like still a little bit. Champions of our little corner of the world anyway.

It seems like we started this a long time ago. That's because we DID start a long time ago. We started in the summer. It was all so much warmer.And relaxed. We sort of lounged around in those warm days of late summer, talking and laughing, watching our boys play in the grass.Oops, mostly the turf, and also our girls, but whatever. We've watched them in red
In white
in blue.From the raising of the helmets to the line-up-and-shake-hands thing they do.
We took their pictures, straight on through. LOTS of pictures.
But this adrenaline-fueled night, championship night was different. There was plenty of tension on the sidelines. PLENTY of adrenaline, plenty of testosterone, all its power waiting to be unleashed.

Let's remember, our Young Son, along with many of his team mates, has done his part of the work. The sidelines guys and the on-field guys are part of one team, one massive bunch of excited and amped up young men.
I think maybe our Young Son was relieved not to see himself on the Jumbo-Tron. Maybe he'll grow into that. They've been practicing forever. FOREVER. In practice, our boy pretended like he was one of the bad guys all week, that's called 'scout team.' or "pretend like you're the other team and get hit over and over again by the starters." Our opponents aren't BAD guys, they are probably guys just like our guys. Only we are so much more awesome. WAY more awesome. Just ask us.We were pretty excited too. PPP's drinking straight adrenaline. It sure wasn't hot chocolate, for $3/cup.We came all intense and excited. We were ready for some nail biting, last-minute pull-it-out win. The kind that leaves a sore throat. We were ready for angst.
By half-time, with a 21 point lead, we were murmuring among ourselves "Is it really going to be this easy? CAN it be this easy? Did I actually waste all this adrenaline?" Murmuring, I say. We hesitated to say it out loud. Half-time was smile time. Smile, and laugh time. Talk about what's for Thanksgiving dinner time.

Relaxing, actually, only cold not warm.There was a little bit of a scare at the beginning of the first half. They scored. That was a change. We stopped that pretty quick.
Soon, we were back to watching the boys play their game. Also watching the clock. It was getting colder and colder...and colder.

Though not as cold as lacrosse, which is fast upon us, as my lax friends reminded me. There is no cold like early season lax cold.
I was a reluctant to buy the bumper sticker before the game was actually over, but I did. I haven't found it since we got home, but I did buy it...and before the game was over.
Our students were vocal, waving their keys and singing a heartfelt good-bye to our opponent. I won't imbed that song in your head, by starting with "Nah, nah, nah..."Alumni, with their own state championship glitz, made an appearance.Impressive. Ya think they're still wearing those jackets at Vandy?But with the win, at last the win, came the full force of the building testosterone storm.They had a bunch of security guards on hand, from the beginning....
. . .to the end. I'm not sure what they thought we were going to do. They clearly hadn't seen us before, an orderly crowd, well mannered and chatty. The announcer kept warning us not to go onto the field, to stay in the stands. They didn't know what we know. Our boys, after they have won the game, raised their hands and their helmets . . .. . . rushed the field and danced their dance (I believe it was the Electric Slide, coach led.)

Our boys always come back to us, their adrenaline-filled admirers. If it was a teen romance, the football hero would rush over and finally kiss the girl in the stands. Mostly, these guys just yell to their school friends and their parents. Also girls. no kissing.

Our boys bring us our testosterone chaser right to the edge of the stands. Every time. No security guards needed.

We waited again, on the other side of the locker room. They came forth, championship hats, and pure delight.
This faux-fierceness. Whatever that's about. Faux-fierce boys who couldn't keep the smiles hidden, even for the camera.

Adrenaline cocktail, testosterone chaser.
We know what it looks like when our team wins. It's glorious. But when the joy is on your son's face? That's a whole 'nother dimension.