Seeing as I have never alluded to being the lost character on “Big Love” the question that I would expect to arise would be where did these “brothers” come from? The easy explanation - they were on our football roster.
Throughout my undergraduate years I worked as a manager (read: COACH’S BITCH) for our football team and loved every second of it. I am one of the only people I know who have traveled with three bus loads of guys to a game and have had the pleasure of having each of them make fun of me for having toothpaste on my shirt at pre-game meal the next morning. Even more exciting, I have been told on more than one occasion when my messy ponytail was not as cute as it could be – usually the bow was crooked; faux paux!
I truly believe my manly men were reading their girlfriends copies of Glamour, Cosmo and Vogue instead of Sports Illustrated and Maxium and I was living proof. Coincidently, these same groups of guys have been the ones to be shocked when I arrive anywhere dressed in something other than mesh shorts, a t-shirt, while lacking my signature ponytail and running shoes. Add make-up to the mix and the older ones heads looked eerily similar to the little girl from the Exorcist (in the spinning sense, not the puking one!)Slowly, this trend, which also included 6’6, 300 lb. men scaring the living bajesus out of potential suitors in social settings, moved more from a little sister relationship to the big sister relationship more or less because my fatties (I worked with the offensive line and let me tell you, nothing makes a 5’8 size 8 girl feel better about herself than a bunch of teddy bears of that size.) were no longer older than me, but were in fact becoming younger than myself.
The cute/funny thing about all of this is neither my protective, nor their protective vibes ever diminished. Awwww, my little cuties. I just want to hug each of the freakishly tall goobers … except when they miss a block, then I want to ring their fat necks but the problem is I can’t get my hands around them. This weekend, I realized that my little brothers were all growing-up and there are just a handful of them still out there.
Weird.
My dynasty is dwindling. Its like the little football family tree is turning into a bush.
But one foot in the graduation grave means I still have five pretty manicured toes out of it. Enter: Sunday afternoon, the boys reported to camp which meant I was getting attacked when I wasn’t not looking … making fun of the camp buzzes … laughing at jerseys that have become too small (Oink. Oink. Piggy. Too Many Twinkies!) … and shuffling the guys through headshots as quickly as possible so that they can nap for a half hour before the team meeting. (Read: Standing on a chair and getting my point across – in my own special way. Ask some of the seniors what happens when you try to waste my time.)
Oh and bye the way, yes guys, you are welcome for that gift of sleep, consider it, an early grad gift … just don’t go too soon, I have too many games, tailgates and fall afternoons to waste on you losers – my Band of Little Brothers. :o)
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