Who loves the game of football? (Long)

Who loves football?

I'm sure there are plenty here who are fans for some other reason. You went to school there and caught the fever, but it's more about the festivities than the game for you. For others, it's more about finding your identity in a team's success, or its rivalry, than a love of the game itself. And some engage mainly for the smack talking. Maybe you're good at laying the verbal wood to an opposing fan, but you have no clue where your team ranks for scoring defense.

Me? I love football. LOVE it. Like many kids born and raised in Alabama, I was introduced to college football at an early age. I had no clue why we were yelling at the TV, but everyone seemed to be happy, and that was rare for our family, so it had to be a good thing. Yeah, pro football was on a lot too. Being in Alabama, you saw the teams on television - Cowboys, Falcons, Saints, Raiders - but they were all far away. So you picked your college team. Or more than likely, it was decided for you by your family. My family loved the Tide.

The Salsa family didn't find their identity in Alabama football during the week. That was reserved for pool parties and aunts and uncles and cookouts and anger and divorce and fighting and, occasionally, violence. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. We knew how to love, and we loved a lot. But we were better at the other stuff. When Saturday came, everything was different. No more fighting. And for a kid, that just added to the mystique of the day, and the game, and the team. It meant football was special. We fought on Sundays. Before church. After church. I'm sure a couple of times during church. But not on Saturday.

I got older. More fighting. More divorce. Soon I was living in a bad part of town with an a-hole of an older brother and a poor single mom. I didn't have much. I slept on the floor of a 2 bedroom house in East Lake. Awoke to roaches crawling on or around me. I was not a good student. Partly because my older brother (the a-hole) made it his mission to convince me how stupid I was every chance he had. Partly because I was usually too hungry to pay attention to stuff I didn't care about. But I cared about football. And I studied football.

I got a little older. And I got a stepdad. He was an a-hole too, but in a good way. Former Staff Sgt. in the Marine Corp. I didn't get away with as much as I used to. I wasn't as hungry anymore. I got my own bed. My grades improved...slightly. And I still studied football. When it was book report time, I grabbed "The Third Saturday in October" or some other book on Alabama football from the school library. There were plenty. I learned names and scores and stats. I knew it all as well as anyone my age, probably better.

I signed up to play football. The South Roebuck Eagles. I hated that our colors were orange and blue. I hated that our mascot was an eagle. I hated that Huffman wore red and white. I hated that they got to visit an Alabama practice each year and meet Bear. We were the poors. They were the...less poors. And I hated that they were a better football team. Then Bear passed away. I cried a lot. It was my first real experience with death. It would help me deal with my grandfather's death a few months later.

The concession stand at South Roebuck sold football cards. I collected them and lined them up in formations, and ran plays I designed. Of course, preference was shown to former Bama players. John Hannah at guard. Dwight Stephenson at center. Tony Nathan at RB.

High school. The Banks Jets. Alma mater of Johnny Musso, Jeff Rutledge, David Cutcliffe, Gary Rutledge, Billy Shields, and Jimmy Sidle. I would play football there alongside Marcus Dowdell, a former South Roebuck teammate who would go on to the NFL to play for the Cardinals and Saints. Banks shut down after my sophomore year and I transferred to Ramsay, a school with no football program. I didn't play anymore, but my love of the game still grew.

After high school, I left Alabama as quickly as I could. I loved the state and most of the people, but my family was an issue. I needed to get away from the drama. Away from the influence. In Illinois, I found that love of football was almost non-existent. There are a few Bears fans who get it, but that's about it. I stuck out like a sore thumb in more ways than one. But I faithfully followed my team, which, in the days before the Web, was not always easy.

A son. My son. I became a dad in 2000. After enduring a painful childhood and multiple divorces, I was determined above all else to be a damn good dad. 2006, and time to officially introduce him to the team. We went to see Bama vs Duke. Not my first game, but my first game in Tuscaloosa. It was Shula's final year. It was a terrible game. But we loved every moment. In 2007 we saw LSU. Tough loss. I was ticked at JPW for the fumble. But we still loved it, and got to see Saban in his first year. 2008? Auburn. It. Was. Glorious. On the back window of our van: "We drove all the way from Illinois to give Tuberville the finger." Nothing but strange looks until we crossed into Tennessee. Then a lot of honks and waves and even a few people taking pictures. It was the south. They got it. 2009? Rocky Block. 2010? Penn State. Went to Dallas in 2012 for the Michigan game. Even got to meet RummelTiger.

I love that my son loves Alabama. I love even more that my son loves the game of football.

And so here we are. The Salsa family. 6 of us gathered around the tv last night, cheering for our football team. Thrilled that we're watching good football. Maybe not good defense, but good football. And we love the game. Even my daughters. It's why I can cheer for teams playing Auburn, but can be proud of the Tigers when they win in spite of my cheers. Because they are kids playing their heart out. And fans who love those kids. It's why I can be satisfied when LSU throttles an out of conference opponent (though some posters here have made it harder to be happy for them).

I don't cheer for SEC teams because it's good for the conference, or for Alabama. I cheer for SEC teams because, moreso than any other conference, we love the game. The game that helped me escape for awhile from the realities of poverty. The game that helped me struggle through some very painful years. I am not defined by my love for Alabama football. Nor do I find my identity in being a fan. My identity is in being a husband and father, and (flawed) follower of Jesus.

But I love the hell out of this game. And I know some of you do as well. If you're one of those, then you're family, no matter which team you cheer for.