Football Feign

I am, by no means, an athlete. Never was and never will be. For one, I can't stand the pressure of team sports: knowing I have a particular position I have to play, remembering all the rules, and having to deal with the prospect of letting other people down- it's a recipe for disaster for me.

So I don't really know how my friend Doug talked me into joining his touch-football league. Really, of any sport, why did it have to be football? I can manage OK in basketball, and actually enjoy soccer, but football and I don't get along. And we never have.

I seem to recall verbally groaning when flag football came around during gym class back in middle school. For one, I was almost always picked in the bottom bunch (and if the particularly inept kids were absent that day, I was the definite last man). But my classmates weren't dumb; they knew I wasn't going to be valuable to them. Secondly, the rules of football confused me, and having to try to learn it and play it in a matter of 35 minutes was a chore. Plus, I wasn't a fan of pain or really throwing myself into another body. So the combined humiliation of displaying my athletic inabilities and running around like a confused headless chicken , only to get slammed by a meaty 7th grader, was not something I was excited to experience.

Eventually my hatred cooled to just indifference to the sport, and happily our paths never crossed. Until Doug came along.

With the reassurance of it being more of a social club than serious sport, and the addition of a few fellow girls on the team that I was friends with, I finally agreed. I was able to put it out of my mind until finally the day of the first game arrived, last Sunday.

Joe also joined the team so I was happy that I would know several of the other players. As we walked up to the field where we would play I suddenly got that old pinch in my stomach. The fear couldn't be quelled any longer and suddenly I was panicking.

Luckily my girlfriend Carly was there, also describing her fears and anxieties, so I felt I was in good company.

When the ref called us in and explained the rules in a split second I made the mental decision I would simply run around chasing the people in orange and pray to God no one threw me the ball. This plan was short lived when the ref would call "something something GENDER" which I came to realize meant just the GIRLS could do the play, and with just me and Carly, chances were at one point the ball would be tossed my way.

Thankfully this didn't occur too often. Carly was a good sport and took the brunt of most of the gender passes. However at one point, one of my teammates finally decided to give me a try. I looked to get myself free (which, since I was gaining the reputation as being "not a a threat", no one ever really bothered to cover me). He tossed me the ball, nice and easy, and...a catch! I caught the damn thing! I was so thrilled I actually exclaimed, "I CAUGHT it!"

My excitement was short lived when the ref blew his whistle and explained the pass was no good...since I had caught it BEHIND the line of scrimmage.

Still, I couldn't help but be slightly proud. It was maybe the first time I had caught a football during an actual game. I should savor the moment- with only 7 or 8 more games, chances are it may not happen again!