Month of August brings about a variety of football emotions
The month of August has always brought a sense of dread and excitement.
I know those are two conflicting feelings but as a former high school and collegiate football player, it makes sense to me.
Depending on my mood, I usually listen to music to and from work. I have recently been on a country kick. Last week while I shuffled my favorite country songs I stumbled on My Church by Maren Morris.
The chorus of that track always gives me goose bumps:
“Feels like the Holy Ghost runnin' through ya
When I play the Highway FM
I find my soul revival
Singin' every single verse
Yeah, I guess that's my church”
A few tracks later, one song brought me back to my high school football days. Kenny Chesney’s The Boys of Fall began to play and I time traveled back to when those feelings of anxiousness before the start of fall camp started to creep out of my mind.
I related those two tracks because in essence, Chesney’s story telling of life on the gridiron and beyond was at one point my church.
I can say with certainty that those nerves have not left me.
Nowadays my athletic career is long gone. I celebrated my 30th birthday in April but it feels like yesterday I was running out onto the field at the Carrier Dome, now dubbed the JMA Wireless Dome, in Syracuse, NY. Me and the rest of the Croton Harmon Tigers felt like kings as we prepared for the Class B state football finals against Hornell.
We lost that game 22-6.
Fast forward to today and I am doing what I always wished we had; people detailing our story. Not that we didn’t have reporters come to our football practices on occasion. I just wished we had it consistently.
Ever since I started my sports media career in Ohio, feeling of the Autumn winds blowing across the landscape invites a sense of ambition in me. Dreams of conjuring my own goals has now turned into journaling others who seek eternal glory in whatever sport I cover.
Chesney’s hit reminds me of that along with a time when I couldn’t sleep a wink the day before my first fall two-a-days my freshman year in 2010. I lied to my head coach that morning when he asked me when I fell asleep — I pulled an all-nighter when I said I went to bed at 9 p.m.
Like Morris’ lyrics, I found myself singing every verse of the boys of fall igniting a fire in me that comes out every August before the start of high school. Back then, I had dreams of playing football for the rest of my life. But God had different plans, and I find this one more appealing in my older, seasoned age.
I found my love of sports when I moved to New York in 2008. My affection for it has not changed. The same ambition and routine is evidence of that.
What excites me even more is not knowing what comes next. Friday night lights are a special thing to witness and I wish every citizen of this country could be a part of it.
The anticipation is surging in me. What is for certain, I know, is that me, Tim Miller, Chad Williamson and Bob Putman will be there through the highs and lows.
