By:Karenlyn Barone
This was fine with me, since I did have my favorites. I liked Cowboys coach Tom Landry and his silly hat, and I always cheered for the Jets, because Joe Namath was cute. And I loved the Kansas City Chiefs because they wore my teenage initials (K.C.) on their helmets. For all these long years, they're still "my" team.
Years later, I was blessed with two sons of my own, and I was thrilled when they both expressed an interest in football - albeit on different levels. My eldest played quite by accident. Born with mild cerebral palsy, he was encouraged by his friends to join the team in seventh grade. He played straight through graduation last year, and for him the rewards of football are immeasurable.
The strength and conditioning regimen he undertook allowed him to throw away the orthotic brace he had worn on his leg his whole life. The camaraderie among his teammates and him was beneficial for all concerned. And the self-esteem it instilled in him will be something he carries forever. Was he a great quarterback? Hardly. Essential to the line of scrimmage? Probably not. Yet, he was given county and state awards for his courage and determination in overcoming a handicap, and being the only high school athlete with a physical disability to play varsity football as of 2004.
The lessons he learned on the field made my little disabled boy a strong man - inside and out. The biggest smile I ever saw on his face was when the team retired his football jersey at Homecoming.
My younger son is a gridiron natural. He's fast, adept and has no fear. He wakes up in the morning, turns on the sports channel and checks it again at night, right before bed. He is an aficionado of the game. His closet is full of football-flagged clothes, and he would trade me for his favorite wide receiver, Randy Moss, in a second. The biggest smile I've ever seen on his face was when he recovered a fumble during a junior-high game. He plays football with passion, watches it, studies it, lives it, breathes it.
This season, especially, we have made weekend dates to watch the important games together. Armed with a bowl of popcorn and a sense of excitement, we don't move from the couch during the games. We discuss everything from strategy to standings. We cheer and jeer, and I'm thrilled to share football with him, in the same way my dad shared his favorite sport with me.
Nevertheless, I'm not thrilled with what the commercials that break up the action are teaching my son: that beer and football are synonymous. During every commercial break of every game we've watched this season, there's been at least one beer commercial. Worse yet, it's usually the lead-in ad, during which my son gets the unmistakable message that beer is fun, tastes great, is something to celebrate, brings babes into your life and basically makes your world a better place.
How can my message of abstinence, until he is an adult, compete? How can I possibly believe that my preaching the ills of drinking while he's at such a young age are heard above the beer company jingles, especially when there are so many tempting choices? The television bombards him with ads for carb-lite beer, naturally brewed brews, dark lagers, those aged with hops, special-occasion beers and the "girls will arrive in bikinis" brewskis. Lately, the beer companies are not only attacking my son's developing sense of right and wrong, but his hard-to-control hormones as well.
What's a mother to do? I finally decided I couldn't sit idly by and let the pressures of the beer company messages inflate my son's chances of making the wrong decisions for all the wrong reasons. I've begun hitting the mute button during the commercials.
The ads are still killing me. Even worse, they're telling my son it's OK to make bad choices - that may kill him.
Comments? KBarone@liherald.com or (516) 569-4000 ext. 202.
