I took Charlie to his first Patriots game on Sunday. I had brought him to preseason games before, but this was the first regular season game that he attended.
Also, the home opener, which is always fun.
A few highlights:
Charlie was missing a Little League game to attend the Patriots game, but thanks to an app called Game Changer, he could follow the action on an iPad. As we tailgated with friends, he watched the game—balls, strikes, outs, and runs—as they were happening.
His team won 18-14 in a barn burner.
Last week, I watched the Patriots game on my phone while watching Charlie play in a Little League game.
It’s a brave new world.
Charlie is an aviation enthusiast. He attends an Aerospace Academy during the school day and hopes to one day be a pilot, so the flyover of four F-15s following the national anthem was one of the most exciting moments of the day for him. He spent part of the tailgate also tracking flights overhead thanks to another app and discussing origins, destinations, and aircraft types with one of our fellow tailgaters.
A lot of aviation talk for a football game.
The game went into overtime thanks to a blocked field goal that cost the Patriots three precious points, a miscommunication downfield that led to a Seattle touchdown, and two terrible pass interference calls. During overtime, the Patriots received the ball, failed to score, and punted it back to Seattle.
The Seahawks then marched downfield into field goal position. As they closed in on their game-winning kick, I suggested we leave now to beat the crowd.
“You’ve got to have hope,” Charlie said.
I thought he was crazy, but since it was his first game, I agreed to stay. But as we waited for the field goal to be kicked, I was reminded of a playoff game 12 years ago against the Ravens. Kicker Billy Cundiff missed a chip shot field goal that would’ve sent the game into overtime, thus sending the Patriots to the Super Bowl.
I was in the stadium that day, too, and I had hope as Billy Cundiff kicked that ball, and that hope was rewarded in jubilation. Just because it was a regular season game and our team isn’t nearly as good as it once was doesn’t mean that hope should be abandoned.
So I followed Charlie’s advice. I filled my heart with hope.
Then Jason Myers made the kick to win the game for Seattle.
Still, Charlie was right. Hope is a good thing.
As we left the stadium, we took a long, winding stairwell from the upper deck to the ground floor. As we descended, we passed individuals having difficulty negotiating the stairs, slurring their words, and mindlessly swearing. When we reached the bottom and exited the parking lot, Charlie said, “Well, now I know what a drunk looks like.”
He went on to expound upon the stupidity of public intoxication and the damaging effects of alcohol.
I’ve had friends with children older than mine tell me that as much as I’d like my kids to avoid alcohol until they are much older, it’s inevitable that they will drink at some point in high school — even though both Elysha and I did not drink alcohol while in high school.
I have repeatedly disputed this claim. While it’s possible that my kids might experiment with alcohol, I’ve always held out hope that they might follow in the footsteps of their parents, who avoided alcohol until after high school and barely drink today.
Clara is 15, and based on her current path, I suspect she will avoid alcohol throughout high school, and Charlie might, too. He’s clear-eyed on the subject in a way few people are.
Like Charlie said, I’ve got to have hope.
Despite the disappointing loss, it was a great and glorious day for Charlie and me.
A day, I suspect, that we will always remember.
