Although I slept quite heavily, mid-snooze, I sat up and discovered that football is good for me. Yesterday, our Spartans took on Louisiana Tech.
Feeling semi-important, I was at the stadium earlier than most students, getting my 'squad on'.
Ordinarily, I would drive to the game, along with one or two carpool-supporting squad members.
Sadly, after many away games and trips to Spartan Stadium, my once-reliable car decided to no longer be of service, encouraging me to walk from campus to the game.
I don't normally tailgate. Being a squad lead, I am usually caught up with pre-game duties.
However, yesterday's game wasn't as panicky as most, and I was allowed to sit in plastic chairs and devour my daily dose of protein though the means of barbequed chicken.
I even got the chance to toss a football around.
Being the only girl in the cul-de-sac, I grew up playing football. I even joined the boys' intramural team in junior high, much to my peers' chagrin.
Even at a juvenile age, football gave me a sense of pride and spirit. Making a touchdown for a small group of onlookers during lunch created an almighty flush of gratification in my veins.
I can only imagine how powerful it must feel to score in a college game with thousands of fans cheering. Although I sit the stands, I can always sense the reward.
At every football game I've attended at San Jose State University, I have stood on my feet the entire time. It may be encouraged by the loyalty of Spartan Squad, but even if such an organization did not exist, I would have a difficult time sitting down.
I recently noticed that the band's tunes ringing in my ears and the ever-familiar chants of "San Jo, You Know!" reminds me of the wholesome dignity that I received when catching that prized football years ago.
I am straying from my point here.
What I am trying to communicate is that going to a game (not always football, mind you) and being around equally-spirited people is doing my mental health some good.
After a day of victory, I woke up no later than 10:00am. Even after a 9 hour nap, my feet still pounded with plight. Rolling over, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Although physically, I looked exhausted, I noticed that I was still producing a toothy grin. These Sunday mornings are extremely different from Friday and Tuesday mornings.
Every Sunday after a game, I wake up captivated, and of course, healthy.
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