What Friday Night Lights Has to Teach Us

High School Is Hard—And In Some Sense, We’re All Still Living It

It’s that time in Michigan: early season Friday night lights. It’s not Texas, but high school football here is damn serious: we have cool fall weather, local newspapers profiling players and teams, and cars parked outside huge stadiums for three-quarters of a mile down country dirt roads, alongside cornfields — at least in my part of the state.

I have vivid memories of my dad taking me to high school football games as early as 3rd grade. We’d park as close to the stadium as we could, then make what would often be a 10–15 minute pilgrimage to the field. With each step we took, the snares, the drums and the trombones of the marching band got a little louder, and the smell of the popcorn stronger. If we were late, I’d periodically hear the roar of the crowd as someone made a breakaway play; the cowbells would start ringing, and my heart would start racing. I’d sprint ahead of my dad and tell him to pick up the pace.

This is a tradition in my family. Even as a I write this, I’m looking up the best game in the area to go to tonight. To this day, watching high school football live is still one of my favorite things to do. The purity of the game is just not something I can find anywhere else.