At Atlanta’s Bobby Dodd Stadium, The Line Between Faith And Football Is Blurred

I just walked out of a Georgia Tech vs. University of Pittsburgh football game at half time. And it was not looking good for our Yellow Jackets, let me tell ya. Yup, by the time I finished writing this, my son has told me, we’ve lost.

When our 21 year old got us tickets to the game a few weeks ago, I couldn’t resist the temptation. I carry with me the guilt of getting tempted especially after watching the movie the Concussion about the head injuries that football players have after years of playing this tough touch sport.

But, a chance to be with both my boys when they’re doing what they love to do, watch football and scream, I couldn’t let that pass. Also, we were going to go to the stadium in downtown via the metro, which meant I could indulge in my favorite sport: rubber necking fellow passengers and imagining their lives. Most importantly, I get to sit in the middle of 56,000 other fans.

To be honest, I don’t understand the game, but when the guy sitting next to me yells, is the quarter back blind for throwing an inception, I know I’ve to chuckle.

When we congregated in the stadium this evening, we were here for one goal, to cheer for GT and pray to God of football that our team wins. While biting our nails, we stood in long lines and bought pretty much everything the stadium had to offer, beer, water, peanuts, pretzels, you name it, we ate it. We might hate our players for losing, but our solidarity had no match. Football fanatism is no match for religious fervor.

As I walked out of the stadium leaving my boys behind so I can get back home to our dog baby Yogi, who was home alone for 5 hours now, I walked into the underpass of I-85. And wondered if the highway would cave on my head as I crossed the walker’s tunnel.

As I got into the metro train, a dad and his kids came and sat next to me.

“Oh, you’re coming back from the game? Us too. They have to go poop, so we are headed back early.” The children next to him, both seemingly under 10, smiled at me politely and confidently. In the girl, I sensed a “Yes dad, I think she understands. Yes, it’s urgent. No, we don’t want to discuss it.”

I nodded sympathetically, and promptly put my head phones on. Some journeys in life are better taken in silence, especially when they involving understanding strangers and their digestive schedules.

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