Just wanted to share a letter that the greatest team mom in the history of the game  ... Libby Egleston ... shared with the Wadsworth Grizzly Football family at the conclusion of the 2014 season.

Enjoy ... best in football,

Coach Eggs

To a football parent~
Dear FOOTBALL PARENT,
You dreaded this year’s arrival, but it has come just the same. A year full of promise, but so many “last times.” Over the years you have helped with countless team meals, washed mounds of sweaty uniforms, chauffeured to more early morning practices then you care to remember. You have been top-of-the-world elated when your son has had a good night and endured his deathlike silences when he hasn’t. It is amazing how the family mood bobs with the rhythm of each game. You have laughed, cried, screamed, sulked, pouted, sweat, pulled your hair, bit your nails, bit your tongue, paced, worried, shoved, frowned, and smiled all very gracefully and within a two hour span.
Such is the life of a football parent.
You may not be in on the big play, but you feel the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat right along with your son. You keep your composure when some fan behind you wants your son’s head while the opponent on the field is mashing it into the grass. “Get off him, that's my baby” you’d like to shout! You breathe football at this time of year, especially this time of year when your heart whispers “just a little longer” as the season slides by. You plead and bargain, knowing full well that some other parent on the opponent's team is making their own deal with the Almighty, but you do it anyway, because you no more want it to end than your son does. You do not want to see the desperation in his eyes and the pain on his face as he struggles to put away his childhood dreams. You are helpless in the stands, with no way to make it better.
Is it worth it?
YOU BET IT IS! Every lost game sock, busy Friday night. Every recovering Saturday, every aspirin, every ruined hair do, hot bath, goose bumps, and every obnoxious fan and sports writer you’ve had to tolerate is worth it. The fun isn’t measured by how many times your son gets into the newspaper, the game, or what he does when he gets there. The fun - what makes those trips to the ER for the pigskin stitches all worthwhile, is watching a game, what a sport experience can do to convert your little boy into a young man. Watching him tackle the world and you have a front row seat.
You still see that rambunctious 5 yr old playing football in the yard. You bite your lip and hold back the tears because though you are fiercely proud of the young man he has become, you miss the boy. In fact you mourn for all the little boys. You have watched them grow up together, plot and scheme together, win and lose together. They have raided your kitchen, camped out in your basement, stole your heart. They are blessed with something they will never have again. They know it and you know it. So you pray that wonder will last another game, and then another, because as long as it does, you hang on to a piece of your boy for a bit longer. Watching him walk off that field one last time will be no less painful then giving birth to him all those years ago.
We will miss this group of young men.
We will miss watching them run on to the field like soldiers going to battle, the hi-fives after a great play, the chest slams after a great tackle, the celebrations over a big win and the sober faces after a disappointing loss. We will miss watching the boys we love, play the game they love.....Football.
Anonymous