I was never one of those stereotypical popular, blonde cheerleaders in school. I liked carbs too much (still do) and name brand clothing wasn't in the family budget. But I was a cheerleader. I was the silent, behind-the-tears cheerleader for the "underdogs". I had a built-in radar that could detect anyone feeling less-than. And then they became my target and my mission.
Yesterday I detected one of those "underdogs" on the school playground. I kept a watchful eye as recess unfolded. But he found me. With such sad eyes he explained to me that the boys playing football never throw the ball to him. I turned to look at the group of boys and yes, most of them appeared to be the athletic, I-play-sports-all-the-time kind of boys. I knew what this child's heart was feeling: I don't fit in because I feel less-than, but I want to play football too. Recess ended quickly, as did any opportunity to begin cheerleading for my little guy.
Today, as recess had just gotten under way, my little guy came up to me again. This time with fresh tears escaping those same sad eyes. "I want to play football too." I grabbed my "pom-poms" and to the football field we went. Cheerleaders never know who is going to win, but its their voice that encourages, no matter what.
After gently countering the football boys' silly "excuses" for playing without my little guy, I was able to convince the boys to give my little guy a chance and throw some passes to him. (Score 1 for the non-blonde cheerleader!)
I slowly walked away and let the football game unfold. What would happen? Would he be given a chance? Or would it be the same old disappointment? My little guy was in red today and easy to spot running up and down the field among all the blues, greys, and dark colored coats. At least for now, he was in the game and on the field.
Other children caught my attention and drew me away from "spying" on the football game. But the next time I glanced over at the football game, I was the one with fresh tears in my eyes. There he was. My little guy in red. A pass was thrown to him and he caught it and was running down the field.
I can't tell you what happened next. I couldn't see with big tear bubbles in my eyes. But it didn't matter. My little guy was playing football. The other boys had thrown the ball to him. For this one day, this one recess, this one game......he fit in and no longer felt less than.
