My dad made us play football at the age of 8 years old. The pain of physical, mental and psychological effects of it was tremendous. I hated it. It was his fantasy that one of his boys would take as a profession. Didn't workout that way. We learned pain very fast that all that sport showed me. Hit the next boy as hard as you can to win the game. No crying. Be a man. All could think about in school is going on that field for practice. Oh I just wanted to cry. We couldn't miss any practices. We were totally controlled. Quiting was not a option because our dad wasn't going to allow that. All those years of sports breaks your will. Why were we doing this? It didn't make any since. The pain is still in my bones. Sports should be the child's decision not forced upon them. I guess there wouldn't be that profession. It was the start of me being very silent. All I wanted to do was to come up with a way to not play. But as a child I didn't know how to do that so year after year we played that horrendous sport.
Frozen feet and hands. Quivering lips from the cold twisted knees and ankles. A screaming coach. An authoritative dad not even speaking to us. We were just the little gladiators in training. Frozen ground. Practice rain, sleet, snow and below temperatures. Still filling the effects today. Controlled all the time.
It makes me feel disregarded, destitute and dead. Football is a career for those prepared for it not little children just wanting to play. It's a violent sport. It makes me feel used and very abuse also because of lingering effects of it. Year after year going through this horrible nightmare of a life as a child not knowing how to stop it until I got to high school and called it myself quits.