Football with my son

Jack and I went to the Jets game on Sunday. A friend had tickets that they couldn't use and we got them last minute; one of the joys of living in the big city. I hadn't really considered taking Jack to an NFL game yet -- unlike baseball, it's not really conducive to small children, for various reasons -- but it was last-minute and so I figured what the heck. One day he'll be able to say he saw Brett Favre play, even if he doesn't remember any of it.

The drive down was great; Jack fell asleep after about 10 minutes. We parked, Jack woke up, and we headed to the shuttle bus. "Hurry, Daddy, hurry!" That bus took us what seemed like about 200 yards to...the edge of another big parking lot, which we needed to hoof it across to get on ANOTHER bus that would take us to the stadium. "Where's the stadium?" asked Jack. Five minutes later. "Daddy....where's the STADIUM." (As an aside, I think I now know why it's called "satellite parking." It has to do with the distance.) Needless to say, I carried Jack a lot during this, but mostly it was because I was hurrying -- not because he was whining to be picked up. He was great.

Finally at the stadium, the whining did begin somewhat. "Daddy, I'm HUNGRY!!!!" "Can we get some food now?" "But I'm HUNGRY....." I should point out that at this point we're standing in line at one of the turnstiles, waiting to get in. No vendors out there.

We get inside -- we went in the first gate we came to -- and were only about half a mile from our seats. We went up the longest escalator Jack had ever been on, which I think he enjoyed, and stared into a sea of people. Jack, to his credit, did not flinch. He said, "Can we get food now?" With the game starting in roughly 10 minutes, I ended up picking Jack up and hauling it toward our seats. When we were fairly near, and there was a food stand without much of a line, I put him down and we went over to get food. Hotdog, French fries, water for him, beer for Daddy. Ketchup, mustard, etc. And then I realized, OK, I need to hold two hotdogs, French fries, water, and beer -- AND Jack's hand. (The last one is the most important, I know.) Plus I need to be able to check the tickets because I only know the section number, I don't know what row or seats or anything. And then I notice that people are walking faster because the game's about to start -- it just occurs to me now that I missed the National Anthem, I'm kind of sad about that. Maybe that's why the line was shorter to get hotdogs. Oh well.

So people are walking faster and I have an armful of food and Jack at my hand and I don't know exactly where the seats are, and Jack says "Can I get one of those hats?" People are wearing these green Jets Santa hats, and I admit I kind of like them. And I say, Jack, the game's about to start, I've got a supermarket in my arms here, let's go find our seats, we'll go get a hat at halftime. "What's halftime?"

We make our way down the stairs. I wish I could say I saw Jack's eyes go wide when he saw his first football field and all that, but given all the stuff in my arms and the fact that the game was starting and there were crowds of people all around us, and that he's a couple of feet or so shorter than I am and was wearing a winter hat and big jacket, that is not the case.

I point out our row and send Jack in; he sits in the first empty seat. This reminds me of our first movie together, when he sat down on the aisle step. The things you forget that kids don't know, because it's new to them. We get to our seats, sit down, I unload all the food, and I point out Brett Favre.

There was a lot more. Jack being a little overwhelmed by the crowd roaring after big plays, like a lengthy bootleg by Brett Favre that seemed to take about 10 minutes (probably seemed even longer for Favre). Me explaining to Jack that, yeah, there'd probably be a lot of yelling because people get excited about football games. "I think I just want to watch it on TV," said Jack after that, although he gradually came around. Jack pointing out other Santa hats in the stands. Us actually seeing Santa (although I don't believe it was the real Santa because this is his busy time and he wouldn't have been able to take in Jets-Bills). Us getting up at halftime, going to the bathroom (that was a hoot; we're in this big stall so he can pee and he's taking off his clothes like we're home and he's about to have a bath. Jack, what are you DOING?), going to the gift shop and not seeing the Santa hats but seeing a small stuffed bear. In a Santa outfit. WEARING a green Jets Santa hat. When Jack saw that I think his little heart just filled with joy; I will freely admit that going to a game with his Daddy and seeing The Meadowlands and all that paled next to that little bear. In a Santa outfit. Wearing a green Jets Santa hat.

On the way back to our seats after that, with Jack fairly walking on air, clutching his little Jets Shop bag with his new toy in it, it was halftime, so it was even more crowded than it was earlier. Jack was a trooper; the biggest problem was that there weren't many 3 year olds there, and thus there weren't many people his size there, so other people weren't looking for him. I kind of walked along with him behind me, clearing a path while holding his hand, but other people would see me and not him and, you know, there was jostling. But to his credit, and partly because he was happy about having his bear, he hung in there. Didn't squawk. Didn't complain.

People are nice, too. No question there were scores of drunken fools there, but when one guy who I might at a glance have put in that category careened into us as we walked down the stairs and he walked up, the guy stopped, helped me get Jack back to his feet, apologized to Jack and to me, and made sure we were OK before heading on his way. That sticks in my memory.

We left a little early; it started to get pretty cold. I carried him a lot on our two parking lot hikes and two different shuttle bus rides. And we were on the bus when we heard the Jets win.

Which was just a bonus.