My name is Mary Mack-Marx. I am the Lewisville High School Fighting Farmer Football Booster Club Secretary for ‘12-’013 and the proud mother of Ian Andrew Mack II (#58). My “MackAttack” is a Nose Guard and of course, my football hero. Our Fighting Farmers are an awesome group of young men. I have watched the majority of these boys grow up playing LFA peewee football. Now they are full of grit, talent, smarts, character and Farmer Pride. I actually feel like the second mother to 84+ sweaty Farmers, and I love each one tremendously.
I admit, even after all these years of being a football mommy, I still cannot give you the definition of a blitz (sounds like a yummy gourmet pancake to me), a wishbone (a turkey part you fight over at Thanksgiving) or a Blind Side (great movie). I have tried often to peek over Ian’s shoulder while he is studying his playbook – hoping to find some clarity – but all I see is what looks like a mix of a really strange game of tic-tac-toe and Klingon language. It’s his senior year – I am still lost… Lost – but loving that Fighting Farmer Football. :)
Writing a football sports report is quite a comical endeavor for me. Here goes….
This Week’s Game
This Friday night the Lewisville Fighting Farmers will be traveling to Ennis to play the Ennis Lions. The Farmers vs. Lions… (I get an awesome visual there….) This year’s crop of Farmers are very strong and will undoubtedly leave some permanent tractor trails on that Ennis field. Coach Gregg Miller has these guys FIRED UP and ready to rock. I predict the Farmers will tame those Lions and plow over them with a 21-7 win.
I am looking forward to the Friday Night Lights in Ennis.
— Mary Mack-Marx
Football Mother’s Prayer
In the fall, it is time for the football season.
Mothers go to the game, but for one reason,
What is the reason? Let there be no denial,
It’s to see if her son gets up from the pile!
Oh, she may have lots of pep, and do all the cheers,
and she hasn’t missed a game in many a year.
But she doesn’t do it just to keep in style,
It’s to see if her son gets up from the pile
She keeps tracks of the score and acts very alert,
Wondering how to get the bloodstains out of his shirt.
She always sits on her seat right on the aisle,
Just in case he doesn’t get up from the pile!
When the whistle blows, she strains her eyes,
For the jersey number she’s memorized.
She’ll sit quite still, heart stopped all the while,
Til’ she sees that number come up from the pile!
She’ll stand and shout, “My son stopped the play!”
“Sit down, dear, he clipped,” is all Dad can say.
She may not know a punt from a telephone dial,
But she knows when her son gets up from the pile!
Good ol’ Mom, she’s a dear, & your very best fan,
But you’ll be her little boy even when you’re a man,
She makes all your games, you think with a smile,
Just to see if “her baby” gets up from the pile!
— Author Unknown