Baby Boy, Corn to the world, had a much better week this week. He is still riding the bus and making it home in one piece. Hillsboro played in their second televised game of the season. As I sat in the bleachers watching the game, I noticed that our high school games can garner as much media as the Titans. This game was a rematch of last year’s season ender for Hillsboro, so much was at stake.
Hillsboro came on the field with a determination to win and it showed. Corn was in on several plays and I was not as concerned about him as I was last week. I was glad on a few plays he was not in the game because the guys in the heap in green and yellow came off the field looking as if they had tackled bricks instead of muscles. Maplewood boys are not missing any meals.
The sounds of helmets hitting each other and seeing a few being knocked off of players do not make this mom feel good. I love the game and I love watching my kid play but I have my limitations. The highlight of the game, for me, was not Hillsboro winning 28 to Maplewood’s 12, but the awesome spectacle of Maplewood’s band and dancing majorettes. I was reminded of the my years growing up near Alcorn State University in Mississppi. My mom and several relatives were professors there and I have a few cousins that attended the college. Steve McNair, a former Titan, is an alumnus of Alcorn. The half time show was as important part of the game as winning. The majorettes were called Golden Girls and they were known for their dance routines and those fancy gold and purple sequins were known around the SWAC conference. They were the south’s Rockettes with soul!
Maplewood majorettes were of that style without being hoochie. Precisions and flair were all over the place. It got us up-tight folks our of our seats and the Green Hills crowd shook their tail feathers. Imagine that. The entire band joined in on several numbers and showed us how they do it on the other side of town. I was proud of them and clapped through out every number as if my children were entertaining everyone.
As soon as they finished on the field, I brazenly ran over to the other side with all my Hillsboro football mom attire and asked the moms in the crowd how many of their kids have not registered to vote? I conveniently had a few applications on hand. As I stroked the opposing team mothers and complimented the principle and the band director for such a lively half time show, I was shamelessly promoting getting their kids registered to vote. “It is what we football moms do,” I told the crowd that was eying me as if I was smoking something. It worked because several moms took applications, twelve to be exact.
What a night, a win for Corn, a great halftime show, and twelve moms vowed to registered their football players to vote. Not bad for a Thursday night at the game.