Dear Kid,

Where were you August 20, 1920? If you had been in Canton, Ohio, and if you had wandered into the Jordan and Hupmobile Auto Showroom, you might have stumbled into a meeting to organize a professional football league. Eventually, the group of seven formed the American Professional Football Conference (which became the American Professional Football Association which became the NFL). Three weeks after the APFC was formed, salary disputes and rule changes began proving that it was a) professional and b) organized. Mission accomplished.

All of which means that today is the birthday of organized professional football. You can feel free to celebrate at any time during the day.

Professional football began in the 1890s in Pennsylvania. Today it is a game played professionally in cities around the country and on many Division I college campuses. The first teams in the league were the Akron Pros, the Canton Bulldogs, the Cleveland Indians, and the Dayton Triangles. Yes, they were all Ohio teams even though the first professional team was in in Pennsylvania (the Allegheny Athletic Association). Guess how many of those teams remain?

So what have we learned?

1. Professional football began August 20, 1920, except it really didn’t.
2. Issues around player salaries, game attendance, and college eligibility have been around longer than football.
3. Joe Neanderthal was big football fan (it was of course all amateur back then).
4. It is important that the cost of 3 hot dogs at a professional football game is roughly equivalent to the annual budget for some small cities. This allows the team to pay for roughly one week of the lowest paid athlete.
5. Watching football is fun.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

And then, with the snap of a ball, football season began.

Last night was the start of high school football season (at least for our team). We began with a scrimmage (“scrimmage” means it’s mostly unofficial, the rules are slightly different, coaches get to be on the field and yell at players close up, and the only people who care about which team won are on the winning team).

Fortunately, it was a lovely evening and a good time was had by all.

And my friend Stacey is selling a boat, so if you know anyone who’s interested…

Tonight we are heading downtown for the Bengals’ pre-season game. This will be my first live-and-in-person major league football game. I’m telling you, this is quite a sports week for me. First baseball, then football, then football. I am very excited.

Years and years ago, a certain little boy (not naming names or anything) liked to watch football on TV. His little sister (still not naming names) would ask lots and lots of questions during the game which frustrated the little boy. The frustrated little boy (who chose to solve this particular annoyance by ignoring it) and the Dad-of-selective-hearing expressed Utmost Surprise when the hilarious and lovely mother barked at them for not answering the little girl’s questions. “Don’t you want her to enjoy watching football with you?” said that very same brilliant Madre. “You won’t like it at all if she wants to watch something different and you want to watch football.” Sage-like. [But not from an actual sage because that role’s taken.]

In an act of selflessness, deep insight, and a bit of self-preservation, the little boy (after heaving a might sigh to show just how unjust the world was being) took it upon himself to teach the little girl about football. At least until the next commercial.

And see where we are now? Watching the GirlChild play varsity football and going to a major league football game.

Did I mention that my friend Stacey is selling a boat? She didn’t tell me the boat’s name, but I understand that boats are fairly indifferent to being renamed.

I was going to look up all sorts of interesting statistics about the Jets vs Bengals game but my laptop is still sick and seems to be running some sort of fever at the moment. Not to worry—I can still provide lots of pregame analysis.

One of the teams playing is expected to win. This will not delight the other team. Commentators (professional and amateur) will have a great deal to say about who won, who lost, and whether the quarterback was given too many lollipops as a 3^rd grader.

Many people will attend the game and most of them will indulge in stadium food. A very large man by the name of Jimmy Bones will be on hand to make loans for anyone wanting to purchase a vegetable cup. Enjoy every bite of that crudité.

Someone at the game will think the weather is too warm. Someone at the game will think it is too chilly. No one will be dressed for snow. This is ok, since no one is anticipating any snow. (Except perhaps the kind without the “w” that comes in a paper cone.)

At least once you father will explain to the entire western hemisphere why the referees are right. And at least once he will explain to the entire solar system why they are wrong. Someone will disagree. With luck, there will not be a discussion about it and Mr. J. Bones does not like to be taken away from high finance to resolve academic disputes.

Oh, hey, guess what? My friend Stacey is selling her boat. As far as I can tell, it’s a very nice boat and has never peed on the living room carpet.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Mea Culpa.

I got it wrong.

A few days ago I commented on major league baseball (MLB if you prefer). More specifically, I talked about attending my first professional baseball game and my observations thereof. Much of what I said was accurate, or at least sufficiently opinion-based to be inarguable. But I oopsed.

I said Cinci would host this year’s All Star Game.

As several people have gently pointed out, Cincinnati is hosting Next Year’s All Star Game. July 14, 2015 should you care to mark your calendar.

I thought about bluffing and blustering my way along by explaining that people need to not only read between the lines, but also read between the words. Here was the logic I was considering.

What I actually said:

This year’s All-Star Game will be in Cincinnati. 

The odd logic I was considering using:

What I was implying was: This (the year of which I speak, 2015) year’s All-Star Game will be in Cincinnati. 

I decided that was pushing it, even for me.

I also firmly believe that it is important to admit when we’re wrong. It is especially important for people other than me to admit when they’re wrong.

Admitting that we’re (occasionally) wrong keeps us from looking like stuck up idiots because we’re all occasionally incorrect.

Sitcoms regularly recycle the idea of a character being unable to utter the phrase “I was wrong.” Sometimes they are able to make it funny. More often it’s just sad.

Being wrong is part of being human. Recognizing it, admitting it, and apologizing and correcting the mistake is part of being an adult.

To quote the vernacular, “Man up.”

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

The other night, I joined thirty-two thousand of my closest friends and went to my first live-and-in-person major league baseball game. (It was my friend Crystal’s birthday – Happy Birthday, Ninja!)

Here’s what I learned.

Baseball in person is better than baseball on TV. It is also considerably more crowded.

Baseball is better when the home team wins. Go Reds!

You can buy a really good vegetable cup at the Great American Ball Park. Once you do, you won’t be able to afford college tuition, but you’ll have a few healthy veggies to nibble.

Baseball doesn’t have a lot of action (I already knew that), but the stadium does.

Sometimes, baseball tickets get you free pizza. Thank you to the Cleveland players who struck out.

They sweep the dirt at baseball games. They also Swiffer the bases.

I will never be able to mow my lawn in such cool patterns.

This year’s All-Star Game will be in Cincinnati. Whoever created the logo did a really great job—unlike the person (me) who took the photo of the logo.

Make today a home run day, kiddo.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Welcome back to American Ninja Warrior. Last night was the first city final. Lots of great info on the participants—it’s amazing how so many of the competitors have crazy interesting back stories.

Right now I’m cheering for Leeloo, the diabetes therapy dog (she’s not competing but her Person is). She’s a rescue baby (she was found being chased by a pack of coyote), adorable, and she works for a living (which is more than I can say for our own adorableness). Her job is to tell her Person, Kyle Cochran, when his blood sugar is too high or too low. Good puppy!

So of course I consulted My Friend the Internet for more information. Turns out there are several different organization that train diabetic assistance dogs. Not only do the dogs tell their Person (also known as their diabetic partner) if the Person’s blood sugar has gone out of range, they continue to tell them until their blood sugar is at an acceptable level. And if their Person doesn’t (or can’t) respond, the dog will ask other people for help. Most clever, these beasties.

As we well know (having been thoroughly trained by The Best Puppy Raiser Ever at Guiding Eyes for the Blind), one doesn’t pat or otherwise interact with working dogs when they are wearing their jacket. So to all the wonderful people who work with service animals, please know how much we appreciate you. And please tell your dog how wonderful he or she is from all of us.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Puppy: Why is Daddy yelling?
Me: He’s watching World Cup Soccer
Puppy: Why is he yelling?
Me: It’s an exciting game
Puppy: But, why is he yelling?
Me: Well…um…would you like me to rub your tummy?

Puppy: Mom, we have to talk
Me: OK, sugar. What would you like to talk about?
Puppy: My nails
Me: Do they need to be cut? Let me see
Puppy: Give me my paw back. They don’t need to be cut. Ever again.
Me: Nice theory. Don’t think it’s going to work out that way
Puppy: I don’t like having my nails cut
Me: Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like
Puppy: Not if we talk about it nicely
Me: Sometimes even if we talk about it nicely
Puppy: Emily Post is a fraud

Puppy: Where are you going?
Me: To the gym
Puppy: Can I go?
Me: Puppies aren’t allowed at the gym
Puppy: What do you do at the gym?
Me: I climb steps on the elliptical machine and I lift weights
Puppy: You’re weird

Puppy: Where are you going?
Me: To the gym
Puppy: Why?
Me: To exercise
Puppy: You should just chase a squirrel

Puppy: I think it’s dinner time
Me: You always think it’s dinner time
Puppy: Yeah, but now it is
Me: Nope, you have about another 45 minutes to go
Puppy: I think it could be dinner time if you wanted it to be
Me: I’m sorry, you’ll have to wait.
Puppy: OK…Is it time now?

Puppy: Dinner smells good
Me: Thank you
Puppy: Can I have some?
Me: You had your dinner
Puppy: You share with other people
Me: Sometimes
Puppy: You say I’m a People
Me: Always
Puppy: So shouldn’t you share with me?
Me: Nice try, but no
Puppy: I think some people shouldn’t be more equal than others…

Puppy: So why is Daddy yelling?
Me: More FIFA World Cup Soccer
Puppy: What’s a FIFA?
Me: They’re the people in charge of soccer
Puppy: They make a very noisy game

Love, Mom

For more puppy conversations, see Puppy Conversations and Food Observations, Spring Puppy Conversations, New Puppy Conversations, Winter WonderPuppy | Baby, It’s Cold Outside, More Puppy Conversations