Friday night was my brother Alex’s last high school football game, ever. It had its ups and downs—Alex was almost the hero with his tie-breaking extra point—but ultimately the other team pulled ahead, and it was a sad, anticlimactic affair. Last year’s seniors went out in a blaze of glory, emerging victorious in the playoffs from double overtime as people in the stands literally cried from joy. I guess not every last game can be a cliched sports movie, but damn. It was sad.
I had to walk onto the field with Alex in front of everybody before the game started, because they showcase all the senior varsity players and their families. I didn’t trip, and personally I think we should all just be thankful for that.
But you know what? He moved on. He went straight to his room when he got home that night, and I coaxed him out with fresh-baked cookies and we all talked about the game. And the next day, he went to visit a college that wants him to play for them. High school football’s over, and I’m sad, because I may have just been the sister who comes in from out of town and yells really loudly in the stands, but it was a very fun, very intense, very emotionally charged four years of my life. I made posters, dammit. But he’s good enough to play in college, and I have to believe he’ll have the chance.