Making the decision to prevent my son from playing football was anything but straightforward.
Not long ago, my son Ethan and I were enjoying dinner together. As we munched on burgers and fries, he suddenly looked down and confessed he had something important to discuss. I braced myself, expecting he might share a concern about grades or a crush, but instead, he surprised me with a heartfelt request: “Mom, please reconsider letting me join the high school football team next year.”
I looked at my 13-year-old son, whose excitement was palpable. However, I knew my answer remained unchanged: “no.”
Living in a small town where football reigns supreme, it’s tough to ignore the allure of the sport. Friday nights are filled with vibrant energy, as talented young athletes take to the field and our school’s athletic program thrives. It’s hard not to feel nostalgic as I watch the games, reminiscent of my own high school days. The sounds of the marching band still transport me back in time.
Our family enjoys football as a whole. Sundays during the season are filled with referee whistles and spirited debates about calls. The aroma of chili and a platter of nachos make for a cozy winter afternoon as we cheer on our favorite team. While both my husband and I appreciate the game, Ethan has dreamed of playing football since he was a little boy.
Despite his enthusiasm, my husband and I have consistently pushed back against this ambition. When Ethan was younger, it was easier to sidestep the issue—claiming scheduling conflicts or missing signups. However, the truth is that we see football as a dangerous sport for young children. While youth leagues don’t involve tackle football, the potential for concussions and other injuries is just too high.
I have strong reservations about the idea of my son playing tackle football, and those feelings are rooted in personal experience. When Ethan was eight, he suffered a serious concussion during a gym class accident. Initially, he seemed fine, sporting a noticeable bump on his head and a light headache. But within hours, his condition deteriorated rapidly—severe vomiting, dizziness, and lethargy left him unable to recognize us or even stand. A visit to the emergency room confirmed a major concussion, leading to six weeks of brain rest and months of careful monitoring.
This injury changed everything. School was a struggle, and he had to avoid any activities that could risk another head injury. The experience was harrowing and left an indelible mark on me, reinforcing my decision to keep him away from tackle football, regardless of his pleas or arguments. As a parent, my role is to protect him, and setting boundaries is a crucial part of that responsibility.
I understand that many parents feel differently and allow their children to play football, and I respect their choices. I’m happy to support our local teams by attending games and cheering for Ethan’s classmates. However, as a concerned mother, I can’t shake the fear of permanent injury that lingers in my mind.
Staying firm in my choice has not been easy, especially in a town where football is a cherished tradition. I see Ethan’s longing gaze as he watches from the stands, wishing he could be one of those kids with a number on his back. I could sense his disappointment during a recent screening of the movie Rudy, where he yearned for the chance to experience the thrill of a game-winning moment.
As we left the restaurant, Ethan put his arm around my shoulder and said, “I’ll forgive you for not letting me play football if you buy me an ice cream.” I smiled and agreed; it felt like a small price for his safety.
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In summary, while my son’s passion for football is clear, my commitment to his safety will always take precedence. The risks associated with the sport, especially given our past experiences, solidify my resolve to set boundaries, even amidst the cultural fervor surrounding football in our community.