The phone rang Monday afternoon. It was Bubba-Bubba. “We’ve got a problem,” he said. “Snail fell off of the monkey bars today at school and broke his arm. He can’t play on Saturday.” “Oh, man,” I said, “is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s okay, but we’ve got to find somebody to play center and find him fast.”
“Can’t he just snap the ball and we’ll have a rule that nobody can hit him?”
“His right arm’s in a cast up to his elbow! His momma has to go to the bathroom with him! There’s no way he can play football!”
“Well, what are we gonna do?”
“Brain said that his kid brother Joey can snap the ball, but that’s not gonna work. I couldn’t throw the ball to him. He’ll get killed and, besides, how’s he gonna play defense? Somebody’ll be wide open on every play.”
“Well then, what are we gonna do?”
“Beats me, but if you think of something, let me know.”
Great. Snail wasn’t the best player in the world, but he was vital to the team. In five man football, everybody was vital to the team. Why was he on the monkey bars in the first place? Didn’t his parents know that he had a Championship Game coming up? Why didn’t they write a note to the teacher excusing him from recess?
I finished my homework and turned on the Popeye Club. Orvil the Dragon put a pie in Officer Don’s face. A kid was picked out of the audience and played Ooey Gooey. Then, a Popeye cartoon came on where Brutus was a cowboy. He beat up Popeye, kidnapped Olive Oyl, tied her to the railroad tracks and ran off on a horse. Popeye ate his spinach, outran the horse, beat up Brutus and stuffed him into a water barrel. Then he ran back to Olive Oyl, stopped a locomotive that was about to run over her with his fist, untied her and saved the day. That’s when it hit me. I turned off the TV and walked across the street to Anna’s house.
Anna lived two doors down from Billy. She and I were good friends. Anna was very tall, very smart and could run like the wind. She loved animals, horses in particular. That’s why when Popeye outran the horse I thought of Anna. I walked up to her front door and rang the doorbell. Her mother answered the door. She wore thick glasses and was very strange. “Hello, Thomas,” she said. She always called me by my proper name. “Hey, Mrs. Edwards,” I said, trying not to sound like Eddie Haskell. “Is Anna home?” “Yes, she’s in her room doing her homework. You can go on up.” I went up the steps to Anna’s room. She was sitting on the floor reading a book about a diving horse. “Hey, Tommy!” she said. “Do you need help with your math homework again?” “No,” I replied, “I need to ask you something. Do you know how to play football?”
“Sure.”
“Have you ever played before?”
“Yes, over at my cousin’s house.”
“How would you like to play with us in the Neighborhood League Championship Game?”
She looked at me like I was out of my mind. “Are you serious?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said, “I’m serious. Snail fell off of the monkey bars today at school and broke his arm. We need a player.”
“Will they let me play? Isn’t Bubba-Bubba on your team? He’s kind of a little jerk.”
“I can talk him into it. I’ll make it seem like it was his idea.”
“I’ll play if they let me”.
“All right. Practice is tomorrow at four. I’ll stop by and pick you up.”
“Okay.”
As I was walking out the door she said, “Tommy?” “Yeah?” I said, turning around. “Thanks,” she grinned. I smiled back at her and said, “See you tomorrow at school.”
I walked two doors up to Billy’s house. Socko came out from under his bush at the front porch. He stretched and wagged his stubby tail. I petted him, walked to the front door and rang the doorbell. Billy opened the door and said, “I heard. Bubba-Bubba called me.” “Yeah, he called me too,” I said. “Wanna shoot some baskets? I’ve got an idea.” We walked through his house, out the back door and across the back yard to the basketball goal. We shot a few baskets and I said, “I’ve asked Anna to play with us.” “What?” he said. “Anna Banana? Are you nuts? Girls can’t play football!” “Look, you’ve seen her run. You’ve seen her play kickball and dodgeball at school. There’s no reason she can’t play football. And I wouldn’t call her Anna Banana if I were you. She hates that.”
“Has she ever played football before?”
“She says she has, over at her cousin’s house.”
“Bubba-Bubba’ll never go for it. No way, no how!”
“I’ll talk him into it and make him think that it was his idea. Besides, at this point I don’t think he has much of a choice. The best he can come up with is Joey.”
“Brain’s kid brother? And what about Brain? He may quit the team.”
“No, he won’t, not before the Championship Game. He might threaten to quit, but he won’t.”
We shot a few more baskets. I could tell Billy was running it over in his mind. He sank a jump shot and said, “I like it. The more I think about it, the more I like it. If she wants to play, let her play. I’ll stick up for y’all.” “Thanks, old buddy. Who knows, she may turn out to be an All Neighborhood.” We both had a good laugh and shot a few games of Horse. Then I went home to finish my homework.
The next day after school I did my chores and my homework. I dressed for practice, putting on a sweatshirt with the sleeves cut off and my white number 30 Dan Reeves jersey. I pulled on my football pants, elbow pads and knee pads. I grabbed my cleats, my beat up old Wilson football and headed over to Billy’s. We stopped off at Anna’s house. When she came to the door it was obvious that she was ready to play. She had on sweatpants, cleats and a number 27 high school jersey. Her shoulder length, light brown hair was pulled back and tied behind her neck. She looked at Billy suspiciously. “Don’t worry, he’s okay with it,” I said. “Aren’t you, Billy?” “Sure,” he said, “at this point what choice do we have?” I elbowed him in the side. Anna glared at him. “Don’t worry, he’s just kidding! Aren’t you, Billy?” “Sure,” he winced, rubbing his side. On the way down the street to Bubba-Bubba’s, Billy asked Anna, “Where’d you get the cleats and the jersey?” “They belong to my brother. He played when he was our age,” she grinned sheepishly.
When we got to the field, Bubba-Bubba, Brain, Snail and Joey were already there. They were trying, without much success, to teach Joey how to snap the ball. “Hey, guys!” said Bubba-Bubba. “Hey, great, you brought a cheerleader! Where are your pom-poms? Our colors are green and gold.” “Actually, she’s our new left end,” I said. “I’m moving over to center.” I cannot describe how Bubba-Bubba looked at me. Then he started to laugh. He bent over, put his hands on his knees and laughed so hard that he couldn’t talk. When he finally could speak, he stood up, looked at us, shook his head and said, “Anna Banana? Have you lost whatever must be left of your mind? Girls can’t play football!” “What did you call me?” said Anna, striding toward Bubba-Bubba. “And what did you say?” “Anna Banana,” sneered Bubba-Bubba, “and girls can’t play football!” The word ‘football’ wasn’t even out of his mouth good when Anna shoved him on the shoulders hard with both hands. He staggered two steps backward and fell on his back. She was on top of him immediately and pinned him with both of her knees to his shoulders. She grabbed a big clump of grass and dirt and stuffed it in Bubba-Bubba’s mouth. So much for making him think that it was his idea. “What did you say?” she demanded. “Tell me what you said!” He spit out the grass and dirt. “Girls can’t play football!” he yelled defiantly. Anna picked up another clump of sod and crammed it in Bubba-Bubba’s mouth again. “Girls can’t do what?” she yelled. He spit out the dirt again. Gagging and coughing, he hollered, “Okay, I give, I give! You can play, you can play!” “Pinky swear?” she asked.
“What?”
“Pinky swear?”
“Okay, pinky swear, whatever that is.”
Anna held her right fist aloft with the pinky extended. Bubba-Bubba cringed. At this point Brain, Billy and I were about to die laughing. Snail just stood there with his mouth open, not believing what he was seeing. Joey had gone and hidden behind the big rock marking the end zone. “Hook your pinky around mine,” Anna said. Bubba-Bubba complied. “Pinky swear?” she demanded again. “Pinky swear,” he said. She took her knees off of his shoulders and let him up. He glared at us. We bit our lips to stifle our laughter and tried to look serious. He went over to the water hose by his house, turned it on and washed out his mouth, spitting out dirt and grass. He walked back over and said to Brain, “Are you okay with this?” “Sure, I’m okay with it,” he said. “If she has the guts to get out there, I say let her play.” “Snail?” said Bubba-Bubba. “I don’t have any problem with it”, said Snail.” “Besides, she’s gotta be better than Joey.” Bubba-Bubba thought for a second. Apparently he had already forgotten about the sod in the mouth and the pinky swear. Finally he said, “Okay. But the first time she screws up or cries I’m putting in Joey.” Somehow, Bubba-Bubba had managed to make it look like it was his idea.
After about fifteen minutes of practice it became obvious to everyone that not only could Anna play football, but also was very good at it. We lined her up at left end and went over our basic plays with her. She ran very precise patterns and caught every pass Bubba-Bubba threw to her, even his miscues and wounded ducks. Then we put her on defense and had her cover Billy first, then Brain and finally me. She stuck with all of us like flypaper, knocked a few balls away and even went up with Brain and picked a pass right out of his hands. “I’m impressed,” said the big kid.
Then we told her to tackle us if we caught the ball. The first pass I caught I had to reach for, and she grabbed me by the waist and slung me to the ground. She took Billy down by the ankles once, but the one that proved she definitely could play the game was when she and Brain both went for a shoulder high pass. Anna tried to bat it away and missed, but before he could break away downfield, she recovered, wrapped her arms around his thighs and took him to the ground.
It was beginning to get dark and chilly, so we decided to call it a day. “Good practice,” said coach Bubba-Bubba. “We’ll practice on Thursday. We’ve got some things to work on. Boulderview is not as tough as Rockcliff, but we need to stay focused and be ready.” We all knew that what we needed to work on was getting the ball to Anna as much as possible. We clasped our hands in a circle, gave a “GO PACKERS” yell and headed home.