There are very few things that represent high school Friday nights in the Fall like football. When most people look back on their memories from that time, they will remember moments spent cheering on teams or maybe hanging out with friends.  Then there will be those who remember playing the game. Playing the fight song. Leading the cheer that the crowd quickly begins to holler back.  There are fans, and then there are those who aren’t just showing up on Friday night, but start doing what needs to be done long before the crowds set up stadium seats, or stand in line for Aggie fries.

When JD started his high school years, I didn’t have much thought about our football team. We had won 3 games in 3 seasons.  3 games, y’all.  There was a game between two teams in town – both who had lost every game – and the crowd was excited because one of those teams would finally walk away with the win.  We actually won. Needless to say, with that kind of record, I had hopes that we would win some games, but I had no idea….

His Freshman year, every single away game we played was either a Homecoming or some special school event.  We were the team that was asked to play so that the home team would win on their special night. Only something unexpected happen.  We were good. We were really good.  We beat all those Homecoming teams. As the season progressed we actually had hopes that we might make a playoff game.  It was almost unheard of. The band played with all they had. We cheered and screamed and hi-fived and hugged and believed…and then, somehow after a Monday night shoot out game that would decide the District champion and runner up – we walked away the runner up and the chance to play in a playoff game.  We loaded up, drove three hours away….and lost that first game.  Yet, you would have thought we were state champions.

His Sophomore year we did it again.  Only this time we won the first playoff game and lost in round 2.  Then came his Junior year.  His Junior year we were tapped to be District Champions and lost in a heartbreaking game at home to become the runner-up.  We hit the road, knocked out an undefeated team in the first round, the team we had the bitter home loss to in the second round, and faced off against our own personal Goliath in the Regional Championship.  Out of our few losses during his high school years, Niceville is the only team we had lost to every time we played them.  Now we had to face them and their fans in a game the day after Thanksgiving, at their home.  I can’t remember how many games they had won at home, but it was a long streak of not losing.  As we closed the game that night playing All I Do Is Win, I’ll never forget how excited I was knowing that one trumpet player couldn’t have asked for a better Junior year. We defeated Niceville at home. We went on to lose the next week at the semi-final, but we couldn’t have been more proud.

Fast forward to this year. We graduated a lot of our team starters last year, and there was talk about maybe not having the best season. We still believed.  Our kids put in a lot of work.  We lost two games to end up the district runner up – again.  But we went on to win the first round of playoff games.  And something amazing happened.  Something that hadn’t happened in almost 40 years.  For the first time since 1977, Tate got to host a playoff game. It was a huge deal.  One last game at home.  JD’s Senior Year, and in an unexpected turn of events we would get one more time to see it all from his home field.  One more night of Friday Night Lights in the stadium that will hold a lifetime of teenage memories for him.  One more time to watch this year’s halftime show from the home side, while our fans cheered on.

I watched them last night knowing that win or lose this was the very last time I would sit in Pete Gindl stadium, the parent of a Showband member. This would be the last time JD played the fight song at home or marched out of these stands as a Showband member. The next time he watches football in this stadium, he’ll be a spectator.

As the clock wound down, and it became apparent that this would be our last game, the band still played with all they had, and my memory began to turn through the pages of the last few years. I heard those same sounds, smelled the smells of the concessions, cheered those same cheers a thousand times – but this time knowing it would be the last – I think I was even more aware. Wanting to commit each sensation to memory in hopes that as the years pass quickly by I will remember even a fraction of the feelings I’ve had sitting in those stands watching him do what he loves.

We wrapped up by playing the fight song, and All I Do Is Win, one more time. The band filed out of the stands to the track.  JD looked at me and says “What a way to go out. At home.”  I had to agree.  While nobody wants to lose at home – what a way to go out.  At home.  Surrounded by those who love and support you. Those who have loved and supported you through the years. 4-years of unexpected, but greatly celebrated, success. 4-years wrapped up at home.

When our halftime show was named this year, it was decided that it would be titled “Home, Sweet Home” as it is a tribute to our country and our community.  We had no way of knowing how aptly that would describe our season.  Home, sweet home….it’s where it all began in those endless hours of preparation…and last night it’s where it ended.

This is a beautiful life.