Friday Night Time Travel

During my senior year of high school, Friday nights meant one thing, lacrosse games.  All of our closest guy friends and boyfriends played lacrosse so we would all get decked out in green and gold to go cheer them on.  Afterwards we would all meet up at In-N-Out Burger so the boys could get something to eat. 

My friends at their championship game.

One of my three brothers, Brian, is now a sophomore in high school and currently in the middle of his lacrosse season.  So since I am home this weekend for Easter, I of course wanted to see him play in his game on Friday. 

Brian (#25) at his game.

Brian’s game was particularly inspirational to watch because one of his coaches who was there.  This coach found out at the beginning of the season that he had Stage 3 lung cancer, but he decided to not let this stop him.  To support him, Brian and all of his teammates buzzed his initials on the back of their heads.  Even in the middle of chemo, he still shows up at the games and was coaching and yelling just as much as ever on the sidelines. 

Still coaching in spite of everything.

Lacrosse, for those of you who have never seen the sport, is an incredibly fast paced game that is a mixture between hockey, football, and a bit of soccer.  It is by far my favorite sport to watch because you never get bored or have to wait around for someone to score.  The ball is constantly flying and people are attacking each other from all angles (my mom’s least favorite part of the game).

My mom's hands are constantly clasped as she watches the game. 
Note the cheat sheet of players' names and numbers.

As I sat watching the game, I could not help but be taken back in time.  I still remember each of my friends’ numbers so when I saw the numbers on the jerseys of Brian’s teammates, it seemed like my friends were playing on the field.  The field was decorated by leadership with posters that had the same sayings that we would use and the same green and gold streamers that we put up. 



Streamer, posters, and metal bleachers.

The only difference was that at the end of the game, I would not be going down to the field to brave the unbearable smell of sweaty pads to give a congratulatory hug to all of my friends.  However, I still was able to give a hug to one sweaty player, my brother and that was good enough for me.