Such a silly comparison, I know, but on the day of the biggest game in Bengals recent history, I woke up thinking of Joe Burrow's mom.
You see, I am also a sports mom. I was an athlete, a coach, a devoted fan and for the past 20 years, I have been a "mom". From grade school, middle school, select soccer, club volleyball all the way to D1 - my longest role has been as a sports mom. Robin Burrow is also a sports mom too and today, I thought of her.
Lifelong Bengals fans will understand the feelings I had as I woke this morning. It was familiar to me, both excitement and dread at the "big game". The same feelings I wake with on almost every single game day for Lainey and her WSU volleyball team. An idiotic comparison, maybe, but hear me out.
On the morning of a big match, I send the text, "GAME DAY! Raider UP!" to the tribe of Raider fans that regularly attend or watch her games. Feigning excitement to mask the anxiety. Only letting on to a few others the dread that I feel as Lainey prepares to play, her game ritual the same - gets treatment, goes through serve and pass, pregame meal, warm ups begin. Meanwhile, my game day ritual is also the same - organize the parent tailgate, sharing food and drink a couple hours before the game, my hospitality a brilliant disguise to attempt to overcome my game day anxiety. Regularly looking at the clock, my heart never really slowing down....finally game time.
When your kid competes at something that matters so much to them, the winning so important that she literally plays injured, beat up and broken just to help her team win. The anxiety of her not winning only adds to the pit. The pit grows. It is only once I walk into the gym and see her and see the team and feel the familiarity of the gym - the sights, sounds, smells - that I am comforted a bit. "She's got this..." I say to myself. I calm a bit, knowing that she will always give her best, play her hardest and do her part in leading the team to success. I calm a bit more. The excitement builds as the anxiety drains. Once the whistle blows, I am usually ok, I enjoy the game and watching her. At the end, I know it is me she will come to, win or lose, I know it is me that will join the excitement of a victory and bear the ugliness of a loss. It is a privilege....
I wonder what Joe Burrow's mom does on game days? National Championship? First NFL start? Game to clinch the AFC North? Wild Card game day....today...playoffs....I wonder if NFL quarterback moms feel the same heightened emotions that mid major D1 volleyball moms feel...or are they, like their incredibly gifted athletes, "built different"? Pee wee league to high school to college to the NFL - do they learn to just "be happy to be there", do the years of training, of watching their kids in the 'big games' make days like today easier? I doubt it....because in my experience, as Lainey got older, the game day emotions are more intense - give me Playing for a Purpose vs St. Henry in front of a thousand people over the Horizon League Championship, in front of a couple hundred, any day of the week. Am I unique in this, I don't know. This public admission a first reveal of these thoughts and emotions.
Today, the feeling in Cincinnati is different, we are hopeful, we are pumped, we are all in with Joe Burrow and THESE Bengals....but Joe's mom - I bet her stomach hurts just a little bit as she prepares for another game day - bigger stakes than ever before but for sports moms everywhere - the familiar feeling.
I hope Robin is in the stands today. I hope she gets to the game a little early and looks down on the field and sees her son and, in seeing him, her anxiety calms down. Seeing him, prepared, strong, confident and ready to go - knowing he will do what he can to help his team win. I hope when the whistle blows and the game starts, Robin is able to enjoy the game and know her son did all he could to help his team.
It doesn't matter that this is the NFL and not pee wee or Horizon League volleyball - at the end of the day, he is her son just as Lainey is my daughter, the stakes are higher but the emotions are the same. I feel for you Robin, I really do.
