Girls in sports bras and teeny shorts were painting their torsos in the parking lot. Blue. I watched the teenage boys watch the blue torso sports bra girls. They drooled and tripped on their own feet a bit. But mostly they seemed accustomed to the lack of clothing.
The bleachers were full of screaming, cheering, bouncing teens. The blue torso girls were merely showing a little team spirit and helping to get the boys excited about student body as well.
Some of the mothers I spoke to were furious.
"Those girls know better than to be so immodest! I don't want my son anywhere NEAR those girls!"
I watched the kiddos and wondered how teen boys held it together in such close proximity to their near naked, gorgeous, female peers. Those girls have no idea the POWER they have, do they?
I sure didn't went I was that age. Now I see.
Takes me back to me very own football story.
Are you surprised I have my very own football story?
Let's go back there, shall we? Come on!
I am a high school senior. 17 years old.
Tonight is the big Powder Puff Football Game. Senior girls vs Junior Girls. We have trained for weeks.
Our trainers were the players of the Sabino High Varsity Football Team. GO SABER CATS!
I am handed my jersey. It is black with gold lettering. It is sheer and short. I wear a black sports bra beneath it.
The male football players have nicknamed each of us girls.
My jersey reads: " K-2 " on the back.
"K-2?" I ask Sean The Hunky Quarterback. "What's that mean?"
He clears his throat nervously and glances at my generous chest.
"K-2 is like, ya know, twin peaks? Like, um, two huge mountains...".
"You guys are all pigs. You know that." I laugh.
I feel sorta proud and offended and humiliated all at the same time. I bask in the feeling of being noticed in such an important way.
I recently read what women want. I was curious because I rarely know what I want. The common denominator is Desire. All women want to be desired. No age or height or weight is exempt from wishing to be Desired.
I suppose at 17 on a football field with a jersey in my hand I was experiencing my first naive taste of enjoying what it meant to be desired.
I walk onto that field with my fellow Seniors feeling like the Queen of Freakin' Sheeba. We wear our matching jerseys and tiny black shorts. We all have black paint smeared under our eyes and black lipstick.
We play with unmatched passion. We snatch the flags of every girl who is gets in the way of our dream of victory. (We were not allowed to play tackle football on account of that we are fragile little girls. Flag it is!)
The game is very close. We Seniors are up by one touchdown. Game is almost over.
We are in the Red Zone. Juniors can taste the victory of a touchdown so close are they.
I keep my eyes focused on that ball. They must not score. They must NOT score!
"You ain't goin' no where, bally ball," I mutter.
Soon as the ball is in play I dodge the large blond meant to block me.
I see the ball. The ball is all I see. That ball is the only thing that matters in my life.
I DIVE through the air and snatch the flag of the girl attached to said ball. I tuck and roll and bounce to my feet in one fluid motion, waving the flag in the air.
I jump up and down and scream. My teammates swarm me.
The crowd goes WILD! I go WILD. I DO THE CELEBRATORY CHICKEN DANCE FOR ALL TO SEE!
High school was wonderful. I was never a cheerleader. I never dated a football player. (My boyfriend was a writer who liked to stand me up so he could write screen plays...). But I do have that ONE Football Fantasy to remember.
I sometimes wish I could go back to those simpler days.
I'll never forget when Crystal "K-2" Pistol saved the Powder Puff game. The story will be passed down from generation to generation...
Do you have any cool high school football stories? 'Tis the season...
GO TEAM!!!!! YAY!
PS I think I'd rather have my kids play in the marching band.
