Monday was a good day.

It started like any other. Running around the house like a crazed maniac, saying ‘It’s time to go, it’s time to go, it’s time to go’ about 800 times to get my six-year-old and his friend out the door to soccer camp. Doing volunteer work at the Arts Council of New Westminster, picking up my kid and his friend after soccer camp, watching them go all Lord of the Flies in the forest, running home, eating dinner, running out of the house, once again yelling ‘It’s time to go it’s time to go it’s time to go!’

It’s time to go to football practice.

Today I stood in front of 30+ six- and seven-year-old boys and two girls (YES) and talked to them about football and about bleeding orange (GO HYACKS! GO LIONS!). Today I got to start them on the road of a lifetime of passion for the greatest sport in the world.

Today I got to share this with my son.

I have spent my life an inveterate jock. Field Hockey, Basketball , Soccer, Volleyball. I played it all. I pursued a Bachelor of Fine Arts with a field hockey stick in one hand and a script in the other.

Then (quite) a few years later a woman I worked with suggested I try playing football and join a women’s team. I was slightly afraid of this woman so I agreed. I had always enjoyed watching it.. but playing?

And so began my romance with football.

I now love football. I mean LOOOOVE. Playing, watching, and now coaching. The smell of new cleats, meeting new teammates and getting on the field for that first game. Butterflies in my stomach like I’m on stage. Snapping the ball to the QB and then catching that perfect pass. Snagging an interception and running across the line for a touchdown. Best. Feeling. Ever.

My sport is a game of the mind and the body. That I may not be the fastest, but if I’m the smartest that’s even better. That great hands and quick thinking can shut down speedy feet almost every time. And when I’m coaching kids, I can show them that anyone can play this game. That they can love it and learn it and play it forever. That they may not ever play tackle, but they can play flag, or touch, or pick up in a park. That there is a place for everyone on the field in football. A place in every special team, every line, every position. Everyone can find a home.

I care not for the NFL and their four downs. I’m a CFL girl through and through. My dad taught Al Wilson. Lui Passaglia is the best kicker in the universe. The Rock played for the Stampeders. I used to watch CFL games with my dad on our old black and white TV, and we always cheered for the Lions. This past Friday, I was at a bar with girlfriends, peering over their shoulders at the TV not so subtly watching the game. I worried about Lulay’s shoulder and celebrated pretty darn loudly every time he rushed that ball leaving the Roughriders defence on their heels and leading the Lions to their second win of the season. I got excited when rookie AC Leonard got two touchdowns in his first on field appearance as a Lion and thought briefly about how I would feel if that was my kid. And I look forward to the day that my son and I will have season’s tickets and will go together to games and talk about what’s happening on the field and ROAAAAAR for our BC Lions.

The kid and I are heading to the game together this coming Friday to watch the Lions pummel the Argos. I think Lulay is a smarter, stronger QB with more drive to win than Trevor Harris. And with the crowd behind them, they’ll be driven. And we’ll be cheering along as loudly as we can.

For the love of the game. My game.

For football.