Childlike glee marks first trip to an NFL game

Childlike glee marks first trip to an NFL game

David Trinko dtrinko@limanews.com - 10.09.2007
You want your proudest moments as a parent to be something really meaningful.
You want your child to give the valedictorian’s speech at her graduation. You hope to see your boy pick up the Nobel Prize. It’d be great to see the twins work together to develop a cure for cancer.
So I’m a little embarrassed to say I’ve never been prouder of our 6-year-old daughter, Lissie, than I was when she attended her first NFL game.
She is deeply interested in “Brian.” Brian, as in Chicago Bears linebacker Brian Urlacher, is a one-name wonder in our house.
When Chicago went to the Super Bowl last season, we threw a party for the occasion. To Lissie, it was a birthday party for Brian.
When the Bears lost the Super Bowl last season, one of my wife’s co-workers gave us tissues so we could cry afterward. To Lissie, only Brian could cry with those.
When my wife and I each wore Urlacher jerseys on a recent Sunday, Lissie complained that she didn’t have one. She harassed us until she received an Urlacher jersey of her own.
Whenever the Bears are on television, she complains if the offense is on the field, since it means Brian’s on the sideline. Fortunately for her, the Bears’ offense doesn’t stay on the field very long these days.
She even told some friends at school that Brian’s her cousin. He’s not, by the way.
So when we had a chance to see a Bears game in Detroit last weekend, we knew we had to bring Brian’s biggest fan to Ford Field.
I never really envisioned taking a little girl to her first Bears game. I assumed it’d be a son. Call it a stereotype, but it’s one tried and true. I grew up with five sisters, and only one of them ever watched much football. Since I’m outnumbered three to one by women in my house, I’ll take whatever football fans I can get.
No one would ever describe me as a passionate man. I’m generally reserved and collected. I have a very laid-back way about me. Pro football is my one outlet. My wife once joked I get more excited about the Bears’ season than I did at our wedding or the birth of our newest child. In my defense, I would’ve yelled at those events if they were on a big-screen TV.
I couldn’t really figure out what Lissie thought about her first NFL game at first. She was unusually quiet. She looked around a lot but never commented on anything she saw. The noise levels seemed to unnerve her as the teams ran onto the field.
Then the Bears ran onto the field. She started jumping up and down, pointing at No. 54 and yelling, “There’s Brian! There’s Brian!” You would’ve thought Hannah Montana herself walked out of the tunnel.
She resumed her silence during the game. By the end of halftime, I was convinced she was bored out of her mind. We figured she would be, so my wife planned to take her for a walk around the concourses at the beginning of the third quarter to restock our snack supply. We’d assumed Lissie would jump at the opportunity to walk around.
That’s when she surprised us both.
“I want to stay here with Daddy and watch the game,” she said.
That was her valedictory speech, Nobel Prize and cure for cancer all wrapped into one for me. As my wife wandered away, Lissie sat on my knee and watched the game with me.
We didn’t talk much. We just watched the game unfold in front of us. I didn’t want to ruin the moment by complaining about a run up the middle on third-and-long or how the quarterbacks should stop throwing the ball to the other team in the end zone.
On the way out of Ford Field, she did something no self-respecting fan would do. Or maybe she did something every self-respecting fan should do. She waved at all the Lions fans who taunted her for wearing Brian’s No. 54 into their den. And she smiled.
I’m seeing in her the kind of passion for football and fairness that would make Brian proud. I know it made me proud.