Talking the Talk

I've spent the holidays subjected to FF and my husband as they second guess the refs, coach from the couch, and discuss which quarterback has what stats and why. It's bowl season. The ridiculous number of corporate-sponsored, beyond boring, gridiron grind-ups around the country? So not my thing. But listening (from the relative safety of another room) to FF and the hubs do their thing, I have to say, I'm so impressed with FF's game insights and background knowledge.

The Husband: "Team Whatever is just getting slammed out there."

FF: "Yeah, but that's because they lost Quarterback Quizzical when he broke his collarbone last year. Plus, they haven't had solid coaching for years, so they can't build up a team. No one stays very long because they can't stand the athletic administrator."

Where does he get this stuff!??

For once, I know the answer to that question. Sort of. 

Way back when, there were a couple of disastrous attempts to get FF involved in team sports. I'll spare you the painful details. If you're the parent of a child with autism, you probably already know. At the time, FF lacked the social skills and the coordination. For soccer he lacked the interest. For baseball he lacked the ability, and inclusion was not the name of the game for the coach or FF's fellow players. I remember holding a very frustrated, angry, crying little boy in the car after the third and final embarrassing baseball practice. 

Many local parks and rec departments will now work to include kids with autism or other developmental disabilities in sports or other activities. (Call them and ask!) At the time, though, our parks and rec department wasn't one of them. The thought was that kids like FF should be in Special Olympics. Not what FF had in mind. To him, Special Olympics meant exclusion not inclusion. Yes, it would've given him an opportunity to participate in something, but it wasn't what the kids in his general ed classes were doing. Why couldn't he do what they were doing? 

To be fair, Special Olympics is a wonderful organization and they've come a long way. In some communities, they now have more inclusive sports activities, wherein kids with disabilities can participate in games with their peers. At the time, though, we were stuck. 

The solution? We went digital. In the third grade (overall, just a horrible year), we got FF the PC game Backyard Football, an animated game featuring toon versions of real-life football players that the operator could choose for various teams. With the color commentary of an incredibly corny announcer (complete with really bad puns that I'm sure FF didn't get until much later) the teams battled it out on the field. It taught him the lingo, the various positions, and the rules of the game. Backyard Football, was quickly followed by Backyard Hockey, Backyard Soccer (still not very interested), Backyard Basketball, and Backyard Baseball. 

And no, I am not paid to promote any of the Backyard Sports collection and am in no way connected with Humongous Entertainment or Tommo (I think they bought HE). If you have a little one who might be interested, I think they now make versions for various devices. Or if they're not making new ones, you may be able to purchase used games.

The good news is that armed with his newfound sports knowledge, FF could talk (at least a little bit) to other kids in his classes about local and national sports. The bad news is that didn't satisfy him. Once he understood the game, especially football, he wanted to play with his peers. 

It took a long time, but eventually we solved that too by having him workout with the football team his freshman year of high school. They got to know him and his quirky sense of humor and they had his back in the hallways. He got to know them and the coach. Pretty quickly he realized that he was more comfortable watching the game from up in the stands. I think it's because on the field, he couldn't get the same perspective. The coach, a wonderful guy, would have let FF at least stand with the rest of the team on the sidelines, but FF always declined. (Just as well; that concussion thing scares the heck out of me.)

Today, FF, now 20, likes researching teams and players online, in magazines, and in the local papers. He's graduated to Madden football on the Wii. He looks forward every year to picking the winners of the bowl games and setting up his March Madness brackets. He gets his exercise at the gym (we've talked about that a little bit here) not on the field. And he loves talking the talk. I wish he could do some active exercise (not necessarily competitive) with a small group of friends, but that's tough to arrange. Non-gym activity, groups, and "friends"--all tough. I'm still hopeful, though. 

About a month ago, we were waiting in line at Starbucks, and FF was telling me about movies coming out soon. Suddenly, he looked over my head and behind the counter, where one of the Starbucks employees was saying, "Hey, FF, how's it going?" FF smiled broadly and said, "Great, how're you doing?" The employee disappeared into the back and I looked at FF who said, "Oh, that's Duane. He was a lineman on the high school football team. Good guy." 

As much as they made an impact on him, I think FF made an impact on a number of those players as well. So outside, I smile at FF and say, nonchalantly, "Oh, okay. Great."  Inside, I'm melting.

On those days when I'm being treated to a barrage of factoids about the Team du Jour, I silently curse Backyard Football, but I try to remind myself that talking the talk is very, very important.