WHY I HATE FOOTBALL  

Having worked in a kindergarten for three years I am amazed at the inconsistent message we give our children.

“Don’t push!” we exhort Jamie in preschool.  Some few years later Jamie is expected to push his way past as many linemen as he can.

“Let’s use inside voices, Amy!” we warn – till Amy is head cheerleader being encouraged to yell till her face is red and her voice is hoarse.

Mark is scolded for soiling his outfit at five and taught to ignore puddles on the turf some ten years down the road.

“Lance share your toys – take turns with the ball!” we admonish four-year olds.  Yet as inches and muscles are added to Lance’s frame, a crowd screams for him to hold onto the ball and risk injury rather than let the other team have their turn with it.

It seems to me that a lot of expense and time would be saved by buying each team their own ball and letting them stay at their own goal posts the entire seven hours (or however long a game lasts) with it.  No one would have to get kids out in the cold, be stuck in traffic, pay through the teeth for tickets, or stand in line for bathrooms.  All so their kids can see things being glorified on weekends that are condemned on school days.

We are spending hours cheering for rudeness and then spanking at the dinner table for lack of manners.  No wonder so many teens commit suicide!