Anniversary Post, First in a Series: The Homecoming Game

10 years ago, Michael came home from his mission in Jamaica. His parents picked him up from the airport and drove him directly to our old high school so they could watch his younger brother Anthony play in the homecoming football game. (Great game by the way, as I recall Anthony had at least two touchdowns.)
I was sitting a few rows behind Michael with some (just) friends, a group of guys, three of whom were a set of triplets Michael's age. When Michael first walked up the bleachers (a few minutes after kick off) with suit, tags and family, all of us broke into a fit of giggles. He looked extremely uncomfortable. I'm pretty sure I have never seen anyone look so awkward at a football game in my life. He seemed to be trying exceptionally hard to watch the game without noticing the cheerleaders. He appeared to be glued to his father's side.
I didn't know him well enough to start a conversation, but all my guy friends were excited to say hello, so we hung around after the game to chat. I think the main goal of my friends was actually a lighthearted attempt to see how much they could embarrass this missionary so recently reintroduced into real life.
I know it sounds silly for a group of college kids to be hanging around at a high school football game, but I am glad that we went. Little did I know that an evening where a bunch of bored friends deciding on a whim to attend a homecoming football game would turn into a treasured memory.
He was cute, but I didn't fall in love at first sight. Of course, I'd probably only seen him four thousand times before this since we grew up three blocks away from each other (his brother and I went to kindergarten together). I can't say I heard Some Enchanted Evening playing in my head either, but listening to a throng of hyperactive high-schoolers chanting "Defense attack! Fight back!" is pretty much the same thing anyway.