Sharon Higgins
CFL.ca
Most people have heard of gym rats: those whom can’t get enough of the gym. Gym rats aren’t uncommon in football, as players spend endless hours conditioning outside of regular practice and game play. These “rats” can’t seem to get enough of the gym.
Tom and I laugh and make reference to our three kids growing up as football rats. Teaching the idiosyncrasies of being football rats started at a very young age. Our children remind us it was more like “football indoctrination”.
Our oldest child Holly was born on a Wednesday during football season. On the day she and I came home from the hospital Tom went out of town to coach a football game. It was the first of many weekends in the years to come, which Dad wouldn’t be home. I quickly learned my mantra would have to be, “C’est La Vie”.
Holly was ten days old when she attended her first football game. All wrapped up against the October weather in a Snuggly, firmly strapped to my chest, which was very fashionable and baby friendly 26 years ago! Little did she know she was already charting her course to be a football rat.
Parents will identify with the little things we teach our children that will capture some sort of favourable or cute response from them. In our house, it was not “what does a puppy or kitty say?” no, it was fervently squealing out ‘touchdown’ and then waiting for those chubby little arms to be thrown up into the air indicating the official signal for scoring 6 points.
The game of tackles and flips was a very popular pass time with Tom and the kids. He would be positioned on his back on the floor, head and knees up, arms outstretched ready to greet the oncoming sprinting toddler. Flying in for a tackle at Dad’s feet, Tom would snatch them at their stomach, roll on his back and flip them 360 degrees until their tiny feet touched the floor behind his head. This action, then reversed, would bring them back to their starting point. Laughter and numerous squeals of pleasure would prevail!
Tom and I didn’t miss a beat when it came to working out with the kids. We would just bring them along to the gym at the football stadium. Weight rooms are a cornucopia of gadgetry just waiting for little hands to swing and bounce around on.
Bet you didn’t know a stair climber could be used as a teeter-totter with one child on either stair or that the pull down bar could be stacked with just enough weight to support one’s body for a great swing, rather than a pull down! The white board was always popular to draw on and leave messages for Dad but inevitably one of them would come home with non-washable whiteboard pen on their clothes. Grr!
Lastly, I can’t forget the hills around the practice field, which provided hours of ‘log rolling’ contests among the three of them.
Our kids were brought up with football stadiums as their backyard. Having a father that was nothing short of a little kid himself, aided in the discovery of all sorts of fun places to romp, frolic and sequester oneself among the whopping number of seats, stairs, aisles, field equipment and workout rooms to find amusement in. The kids loved plunging their hands in the hot wax pot (usually reserved for aching player muscles) pulling them out slowly to make weird shaped wax hands. Let ‘em dry and do it all over again!
Our son Thomas was the lucky one going with Dad for the pre-game practices when there was a home game. Stamps’ Athletic Therapist, Pat Clayton, was always accommodating in taping Thomas’ wrists like the players before he hit the field. Since the practice before the day of the game was very laid back, it was a fantastic environment for the kids to be part of. Players were always gracious in tossing the football around and making the kids feel welcomed.
As they grew up they graduated to helping Dad in the stadium with game day preparations. This would involve driving a golf cart around Commonwealth stadium picking up and delivering items as well as hanging signs and banners.
The golf cart was always a highlight, the kids never wanting the driving, or the day in it to end. Once while affixing a banner, Thomas accidentally cut his oldest sister Holly’s hand with an exacto knife and a panicked Father had to chauffeur her to the nearest medical clinic for stitches.
Even the dog was considered a football rat, getting to play at the stadium. The kids would take turns running to assorted places in the stands, dog merrily galloping along with them. They would stop, tell him to stay and then head off in all directions, eventually all making it to field level.
Once there, his name would be called loudly and energetically to join them but the dog was never sure which path he should take to arrive at the field. The hilariousness was watching him weave and wind his way to their shrilling voices, tail peeking just above the seats! The whole ordeal would then be switched. The dog being told to stay at field level as the kids scattered throughout the stands with treats for him, encouraging him to come.
Not only did the stadium provide fun but it also provided employment for the kids in their teens. Thomas’ first side line job was holding the cable for the coaches’ headsets back when they were wired. He charted game plays, worked the equipment room, undertook editing and produced video highlights. Holly and Hillary had game day positions of escorting the lucky child winner for the ceremonial coin toss, being part of the game day fan fun team, giving pre-game tours and working in the office during the summer.
You might have a football rat on your hands if any of your children (or men) have participated in similarly related experiences. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Our kids turned out just fine.
