A segment of the people reading this have children — or had children — playing high school sports in this corner of the world. And they're all aware that Paul Anka was right when he sang about the times of your life. You wake up and time has slipped away, leaving you to wonder how it all went so fast.

And so I found myself humming that tune quite a bit last Friday night, having stumbled upon some folks who are extracting every morsel of fun they can from their kids' experiences. Indeed, the high school football moms and dads in Holliston, Mass. are beacons to us all. They remind us to gather moments while we may.

A primer: My college roommate, John Ratcliffe, lives in Holliston. His son, Sam, is a senior football player. I was visiting Friday as part of a mini reunion with all my old college guys who were in town to watch what became a hideous football game the next day between Syracuse and Boston College.

The itinerary included Sam's game on Friday. Kickoff: 7 p.m. Except the festivities began at 5. This is what they do in Holliston. Every week, a different family hosts "pregame," which includes lots of food, drink, laughter, excitement and camaraderie for the parents and friends of the football players. A weekly social event tethered to the game, a chance to blow off some steam from the work week and look forward to a few laughs.

It made me wonder: Why don't more people do this? Why don't more parents enjoy each other's company and invest themselves positively, instead of so much of what I see: complain their way through four years, awash in conspiracy theories, moral judgments and irritability.

Amazing, too, how the investment in the kids — by simply bonding with each other — bears other tentacles. Holliston, what we'd classify here as a Class M school, is a two-time defending state champion beating schools significantly bigger.

John and some of the people in the room Friday are coaches in the town's youth program. They run the same offense and defense as the high school team. Same terminology. Same everything. The transition to high school is smooth and logical. It's a blueprint for everybody else.

Parents get involved to support the varsity coach. They understand he's not an idiot. He's not trying to lose. He doesn't have it out anybody's kid. Instead, they teach what he teaches, knowing that the progressions of football are often slow, hard and intentional. They're all in nonetheless.

Their investment level is so high that they want to see each other more, not less. So they gather on Friday nights before the game, all wearing some form of Holliston red, making merry. They probably have no idea it's not like this everywhere else. Or maybe anywhere else. Nice people, too. I knew nobody in that room at 5 p.m. Friday and was perfectly comfortable by roughly 5:22.

This isn't necessarily a football story. Parents could do this in any sport in any season. Pick a house, bring some potluck and a few, you know, lemonades. Enjoy the experience together. Because one day you'll see the 18th green of your child's career and look back wondering why you didn't appreciate it more.

So if it's too late for the fall season, maybe you winter parents can conspire now. Maybe your kid plays basketball. Varsity tip at a little after 7 on Friday night? Gather at 5. Or maybe plan postgame instead. Whatever. You'll look forward to it all week. And who knows? Making that kind of investment might lead to more volunteerism, a clearer path for the program and encourage more people to be less miserable, never a bad thing.

Glad I was there to witness that last Friday. Sports can be fun after all. Who knew?

This is the opinion of Day sports columnist Mike DiMauro.