Football Fiasco: When Bugs & Phones Steal the Show

So, one of the younger lads drags me to a football game. Living near the colossal Pfield stadium, I figured, why not? Little did I know, I was in for a wild ride.

As we trekked through the parking lot, the Friday night lights blinded me like a deer in headlights. The line to get in? Ridiculous. Apparently, this was the game of the season, and everyone and their dog wanted a piece of the action.

Waiting in line, I couldn't help but notice the thick cloud of excitement... or was it Axe body spray? Those teens were doused in so much of the stuff, I could've gotten high just standing downwind.

Twenty minutes later, we finally breached the gates. With an 8- and 9-year-old in tow, guess where they wanted to sit? Top of the stadium, of course. Forty-two bleacher steps later, we plopped down, just in time for the 8-year-old to announce he needed to pee.

"Seriously, buddy? We've been here two minutes, and you're already ready to leave?" His response? A resounding yes.

Back up the steps, and finally, we're watching the game. Or so I thought. According to the 9-year-old, "we're the only ones here who aren’t on phones." Not literally true, but close enough. I felt like a dinosaur, surrounded by teens glued to their screens instead of the field.

And the language? Let's just say Holden Caulfield would've felt right at home. The f-bombs were dropping like flies, competing with the Axe fumes for stadium dominance.

But the boys? They couldn't care less about the game or the swearing. Turns out, they're cricket fans. Not the sport, the insect. As night fell, crickets swarmed the stadium lights, and my little entomologists were riveted. Watching people freak out over crickets was apparently more entertaining than any touchdown.

At one point, the 8-year-old was crouched like a lion, ready to pounce on a cricket behind us. We didn't last the whole game, but the boys didn't mind—there were even more crickets in the parking lot.

So much for Friday night football being a sacred Texas tradition. Maybe it's not the best place for elementary school kids. Or anyone with a bug phobia.

Harris and his wife live in Pflugerville with their seven children. Please email comments or suggestions for future columns to thoughtsforcaleb@gmail.com.