Football season is like no other. Maybe more popular than ever before, the game is watched by everyone, or at least celebrated by all. Name a better excuse to eat good food, dress up in matching colors, and yell at the TV in a totally acceptable way. Better yet, we get to do it all together. Because that is what sports is all about.
Whether it’s pro, college, Canadian, or your local town’s high school heroes, football unites us all this time of year. The brisk air and early sunsets set the stage for game day every week. Sure, Mondays can be rough, but there’s always football around the corner. We come together for a common team, or at least a dislike of another, and connect IN PERSON! It’s a mini-holiday where we toast to the wins, shrug off the losses, and remember why we do this in the first place: tradition.
My love of sports started early. I memorized the college attended by every pro basketball player in elementary school and was soon taping over family videos with my fake SportsCenter broadcasts. I fell in love with baseball, was wowed by hoops, and became captivated by golf. But football was something else: the larger-than-life players, the importance of every game, the spectrum of weather conditions. I’m originally from New England, and we had our fair share of nor’easters blow across the gridiron and December tailgates. Snow, sleet, rain, or shine, we all persevere on football gameday—an obligatory ritual that so many of us have had for so many years. This tradition only grows bigger with generations, and I’m now sharing these same experiences with my daughters.
“I love your football dress!” my six-year-old says every Sunday morning. It’s a jersey, I explain, but you can call it whatever you want as long as you root for Daddy’s team. At this point, the whole family knows the drill. For those of us who live in California, kickoff starts early (thanks, London!) and the marathon begins. The kids go in and out, catching a few downs and handfuls of snacks. I do the same, hopping from TV to kitchen for gameday fuel. My go-to? Sandwiches from Jerome’s Carmel Valley Market and an Alvarado Street Mai Tai P.A.
Or maybe it’s the Niners with nachos, the Raiders with roasted tri-tip, or whatever teams are in LA now with some birria tacos. Could even be cake with the Carmel Padres, celebrating their 2025 CIF Division 5AA state title! Whatever team you root for, we lock in for a solid five months. Late summer eases us into the season, eventually swapping sunscreen for sweatshirts through the holidays and new year. The bowls get bigger and culminate with the event of the year—Super Bowl Sunday. My daughters have it right up there with Christmas and their birthdays, and the halftime performance is mandatory viewing. Throw in some funny commercials with puppies and some pulled-pork nachos, and we officially have the best day ever.
Sports, especially football, give us temporary escape from life’s bigger challenges. For an only child of divorced parents, I had my fair share of idle time, and sports became everything to me. I played with little success, I watched as many games as my cable provider would allow, and I studied all of it before the advent of the internet. The obsession has certainly waned with age and grown-up responsibilities, but I’ve found a new joy sharing it with my kids. Now they know that each fall, football season becomes part of our daily lives. “Why do we watch football, Dad?” one of my daughters asked as I was applying the team face paint. Three things, I told her. “Fun, food, and family.” That’s a win every time.
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