Domestic violence and football

"Gramps, what would you do if today was the last day of your life?" my fourth-grade granddaughter asks truly wanting an answer.

"I probably would be right here talking with you Rory," I answer honestly. "This feels like a pretty great way to spend the last day of my life," I continue as Rory ponders my answer.

"You know what I would do if this was the last day of my life gramps?" Rory asks. "I would build a tree house in the backyard with you," she finishes before I can reply. Caught off guard, I giggle then wipe unexpected moisture from my eyes as a knot forms in my throat. "We can do that Rory," I choke out as my granddaughter begins to draw a detailed plan of her ideal home in the trees.

Finding more value in our conversation than the football game on television, I turn off the set and follow Rory outside to scout the perfect location for her treehouse.

Turning off a football game is something new for me. Usually I am dressed, fed and prepared with remote in hand for the 10 a.m. game, then plan my lunch around the 1 p.m. game and ensure my chores are done before the 5:25 start of the Sunday night game. I am a football fanatic but, something has changed.

My heart is not into watching the Packers lose to the Lions or the Cardinals beat my favorite 49ers. Instead I walk through my yard, fill my bird feeders, feed my fish and sit on the rock bench in my garden and watch autumn leaves fall from birch trees. I've lost interest in my favorite spectator sport.

Thinking back on this week's sports news, my body tenses recalling stories of men beating women, players abusing children with tree branches, multiple drug and alcohol arrests and false apologies by a commissioner, "protecting the brand."

My wife dismisses my love for the game as hero-worship. "Why does our society financially and morally value men who play a silly game more than it values people who educate our children, cure our illnesses or fight our wars?" she rightfully asks. "Then why we are surprised when people who are paid to hit other people continue to hit the ones they love when they are not playing their game?" I guess she has a point.

Excuses and apologies don't fix this epidemic. Reports this week indicate that some of these actions are cultural, learned, or that the victim is to blame. One report suggests Ray Rice's wife spit on him first hence, deserving the hit. Adrian Peterson claims he was punished with a switch as a child therefore adopted this punishment as acceptable. Some condemn Ray Rice's wife for not leaving him immediately after he hit her.

I am not so quick to judge. There are many reasons strong women stay in physically and mentally abusive relationships, there is nothing a child can do to deserve being hit with a tree branch and no woman deserves to be beaten.

There is nothing culturally acceptable about using drugs and driving a car while drunk. No one, not even football players, can claim these actions as justifiable. Just because we respect the work one does on the field, does not mean we need to condone the crimes committed off the field.

Sitting on my deck on this crystal blue, clear fall morning I watch my granddaughter climb a ponderosa pine to examine the tree for the perfect placement for her tree-fort and I begin to think. "How would this beautiful little girl react if she was beaten with a switch for misbehaving? What permanent emotional and physical scars would she exhibit? Would she still embrace everything life has to offer or would the abuse create scars too deep to heal.

Then I begin to think; as a young woman, will Rory still love life fully as she does today if she is abused by her husband or boyfriend? Will this abuse steal her potential to become fully actualized? Will she have the strength to leave an abusive relationship or will the manipulation, false promises, commitment to change or threats of more injury or death confine her to a life of hell? Lastly, I wonder how devastated I would be if a drunk driver ended Rory's life prematurely?

The jerseys of my sport heroes are dirty, stained by the actions of a few out-of-control thugs. By mentally placing my family in the place of the victims of these horrendous acts, I easily empathize with those hurt.

Today is a perfect day. My granddaughter and I examine the placement of the tree house and decide to start building her home in the sky this coming spring. We continue deep conversations about life, talk about where sewer goes when it leaves our house and explore how microorganisms work. Today I enjoy sharing the innocent, excited, vivacious life of a 9-year-old and disregard the damage left in the wake of my favorite sport. Football is a game. Abuse is not. Today I am less of a fan.

Send comments or other suggestions to Bill Rutherford at bprutherford@hotmail.com or visit pensiveparenting.com.