Thursday afternoon I rode my bike home from school, did my chores, homework and watched the Match Game. I put on my football gear and walked over to Billy’s. We stopped at Anna’s. She was sitting on her bottom step tying her cleats. The three of us walked down the street to Bubba-Bubba’s. He and Brain were tossing the ball. Joey was off to one side, hopelessly trying to snap the ball.
Snail showed up just as Billy, Anna and I started tossing the ball around. He had a spiral bound composition book with him. “I’ve drawn up some plays,” he said. “We’ve got a playbook,” said Bubba-Bubba. “I drew up a few new ones,” said Snail, “for Anna.” Bubba-Bubba gave him a look. “Let me see ‘em,” he said. Snail handed him the book. He leafed through the pages and stopped at a few. “Some of these look pretty good,” he said. “We’ll give ‘em a try.” He called us all together. “Snail’s drawn up some plays,” he said. “Here are the ones that we’re gonna use.” We wound up using them all. He had drawn up an end around reverse, a flea flicker, a halfback pass and a power sweep. He even came up with a few defensive schemes. We practiced them all and they clicked like clockwork. We worked until dusk, then clasped hands, gave a “GO PACKERS!” and headed home. Billy, Anna and I walked up the hill. When we got to Anna’s house I said, “I’ll catch up with you in the morning, Billy. I want to talk to Anna.” “Sure,” he said and continued on up the hill. “Anna,” I said, “these guys are gonna come at you hard. They’re not gonna go easy on you. They’re gonna try to knock you out of the game.” “You think I don’t know that?” she asked.
“I just don’t want you to get hurt. These games can get pretty rough.”
“I’ve been a girl my whole life. I can take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt that in the least.”
“Thanks, Tommy. See you tomorrow at school.”
“Okay.”
I crossed the street to my house. I ate supper, watched Star Trek and went to bed.
The day of The Championship Game was perfect January football weather, clear and cool. The Boulderview Bulldogs were a pretty good team. Their main weapon was a kid called Digger. He was very quick with shifty moves. We called him that because he looked like Digger, one of the characters in the Weird-Oh models we used to build. He had big bug eyes, thin lips, pointy teeth and wore a baseball cap backwards before it became a normal fashion trend. He didn’t have green skin like the picture of Digger on the model’s box top, but other than that he looked just like him. Their quarterback was a kid named D.A. He could throw the ball the length of the field, but wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. We were warming up when they arrived. D.A. saw Anna and went nuts. “Are y’all crazy?” he howled. “Girls can’t play football.” Anna started toward him, but Brain stepped in front of her. “Well,” he said, “I’m here to tell you that this girl not only can play, but is playing.” He looked around at all of them. “Any of you boys got a problem with that?” he asked. Nobody said anything. None of them were going to argue with the big kid. “Okay, then,” said Brain. “We’ll warm up and meet at midfield in fifteen minutes for the coin toss.” We huddled while they were warming up.” “Snail and I came up with a set of signals,” said Bubba-Bubba. “He’ll be signaling in the plays we’re gonna run.” This was a major step for Bubba-Bubba, letting someone else call the shots. “Why’s Joey here?” asked Billy. Joey was in the huddle with us. “Because he’s my brother,” said Brain, glaring at Billy. “He’s our bench player, if anybody get’s hurt,” said Bubba-Bubba. Then, looking at Anna he said, “You’d better not get hurt.” We clasped hands, gave a “GO PACKERS!” yell and trotted to midfield for the coin toss. Bubba-Bubba had taken one of Brain’s football trophies and had a new plaque engraved for it at the trophy shop. The new plaque said “Neighborhood Football League Champions 1968.” He held it during the coin toss, and then put it on the brick wall next to his driveway. Boulderview won the toss and elected to receive. I kicked off long and deep to them and the Neighborhood Football League Championship Game was on.
On their very first play it became obvious what they were going to try to do. Anna was playing left cornerback and they ran a sweep right at her. The lead blocker was looking to knock her into the creek. Anna ran up to meet him but at the last second went low, rolled over, came up, put her shoulder in Digger’s waist and took him down, all in one motion. It was the most incredible move I had ever seen. The fullback stood there looking like Wile E. Coyote with his jaw on the ground. On the second play they went at her again, this time on a down and out pass. Anna played back then broke on the ball. She stepped in front of the receiver, caught the ball in full stride, and no one was going to catch her. Touchdown, Packers. We kicked off and D.A. went at her again on the same play. She batted that one away. They went to the other side for two more plays and then punted.
In the huddle, Bubba-Bubba looked over at the sideline as Snail went through a series of signals. “All right,” he said, “Twenty three reverse on one.” ‘Twenty three’ didn’t mean anything. He just added it to make it seem more like his idea. At the snap, Bubba-Bubba faked a throw to Billy, and then handed the ball to Anna running a reverse from left end. She turned the corner with Brain leading her. He hit the cornerback and sent the poor kid flying. His ball cap and one shoe came off. The kid’s name was Joe, and after that he became known as Shoeless Joe. Anna cut off of Brain’s hip and was off to the races. On our first play from scrimmage, we had scored a touchdown. It was fourteen zip, Packers.
We kicked off and on their second play D.A. threw a wounded duck right to me. We had the ball at midfield. Snail flashed in the signals. “Green Bay power sweep on two,” said Bubba-Bubba. We broke the huddle and Brain lined up at right end, tight. Anna lined up in the backfield. D.A. and Digger started yelling and hollering. They knew what was coming. It didn’t matter. Shoeless Joe saw Brain coming at him with a head full of steam, fell on the ground and rolled out of the way. D.A. came at Brain from the left and Brain hit him hard. Anna cut upfield and loped to the end zone. Just like that, we were up 21-0.
The Boulderview Bulldogs weren’t about to roll over and play dead. They came back with a vengeance. They did what they should have been doing all along and that was running at Bubba-Bubba. D.A. ran a handoff to Digger up the middle. Instead of putting a move on Bubba-Bubba, Digger went right over the top of him. They were on the board, 21-7. We got the ball back and Bubba-Bubba called Snail’s signal in the huddle, a deep post to Anna. His ego and backside bruised, Bubba-Bubba instead decided that he was going to run for a touchdown as well. He pumped once, pulled the ball down and tried to run right. D.A. and Digger hit him at the same time. Bubba-Bubba went one way and the ball went the other. They recovered and had the ball deep in our territory. On their first play their end beat Billy on a flag pattern and D.A. hit him for a touchdown. It was 21-14.
They kicked off, and we completed two passes for a first down. Snail flashed in the signals. “Sixty-five flea flicker on one,” called Bubba-Bubba in the huddle. I snapped the ball and Bubba-Bubba rolled to the right. Brain ran hard at Shoeless Joe and button hooked. Bubba-Bubba threw a perfect pass and two guys hit Brain as soon as he caught it. But Anna was trailing the play and Brain lateraled the ball back to her. She sidestepped a diving tackle and took the ball all the way in. We were up by two touchdowns, 28-14. On Boulderview’s last possession of the half, D.A. took them down the field on a pass and two quick runs from Digger. Then he ran a quarterback draw right over the top of Bubba-Bubba from about ten yards out. The score at the half was Packers 28, Bulldogs 21.
We went into the locker room Bubba-Bubba had set up in his basement. That was where he had wanted us to suit up before games. We drew the line there. Joey had wandered off to with a Mason jar to catch crawfish in the creek. He had pretty much figured out that he wasn’t going to get in the game. Snail had a bottle of a new drink called Gatorade and we passed it around. “The plays are working good,” he said. “They can’t stop Anna. We just have to make sure that we stop them.” Bubba-Bubba gave him a look and said, “Well, the plays are working okay. We just can’t let up on ‘em.” He gave Snail another look to let him know who was still in charge.
We got the ball first in the second half. Snail flashed in the signals and Bubba-Bubba called for a seventy-five cross pattern. At the snap Billy and Anna went downfield about ten yards each and cut toward the middle, crossing each other. In a state of total confusion, their two cover guys collided and left Anna wide open. Bubba-Bubba hit her with the ball in full stride, making the score 35-21. We kicked off and on the second play Digger came right at me. I went low for a textbook tackle, left shoulder to the waist and head to the right. I came up with nothing but air. He had put some kind of move on me, and it was 35-28. The game had turned into a shootout.
We got the kickoff and Snail sent in the signals. “Number five halfback pass on two,” said Bubba-Bubba. We broke the huddle and lined up with Brain at right end and Anna at halfback. Boulderview loaded up on that side. I snapped the ball and Bubba-Bubba tossed it to Anna running right. Shoeless Joe saw what was coming and ran as far away from Brain as he could get. All of a sudden Anna stopped, turned, planted her feet and threw a perfect strike to Bubba-Bubba, who was running all alone toward the end zone. We were up by two touchdowns, and each team had three possessions left.
But the Boulderview Bulldogs would not go away. Digger ran a sweep to the left side, away from Anna. She could not catch him and he scored. They went for two and D.A. ran a quarterback draw right over the top of Bubba-Bubba again. The score was 42-36. They kicked off and we completed a pass on first down, but had an incompletion on second down. Then Snail sent in the signal. He wanted to run the sweep again and put the game away. As we lined up, Shoeless Joe and D.A. shifted sides of the field. At the snap Brain pulled right. But instead of tossing the ball to Anna, Bubba-Bubba decided again to keep it himself and follow Brain. Thinking Anna was behind him with the ball, Brain blocked D.A. to the outside. Bubba-Bubba cut to the inside and ran smack into two guys. It was fourth down. Snail sent in a signal. Bubba-Bubba ignored it and instead threw a pass to Billy, which Digger knocked away. The Bulldogs took over on downs. “Why didn’t you throw to Anna?” asked Brain. “Shut up,” said Bubba-Bubba.
It still seems like the next play happened in slow motion. While they were in the huddle, Snail called to Brain and crossed his left arm over his right cast. Brain nodded, then trotted over and said something to Anna. At the snap they both blitzed hard from each corner. D.A. took one look at Brain coming toward him and rolled toward the girl. It was the wrong decision. Anna grabbed him by the waist, slung him around and to the ground. In mid sling his arms flew out to each side and the ball popped into the air. Never breaking stride, Brain caught it and streaked down the left side toward pay dirt. Digger took off after him in a valiant but vain attempt. Brain held the ball aloft and jumped up and down as he crossed the goal line. We had beaten the Boulderview Bulldogs 48-36 and won the Neighborhood Football League Title. There was no doubt as to who was the MVP.
We mobbed Brain in the end zone. Even Snail jumped in the celebration, holding his right cast aloft. D.A. sat on the ground where he had been sacked, staring into space. Bubba-Bubba ran over, grabbed the trophy and was parading around, holding it aloft. Digger stood at the goal line with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. Shoeless Joe and the rest of the Bulldogs watched in stunned silence. Brain walked toward Digger and slapped him on the back. “Hey!” he yelled. “Y’all have nothing to be ashamed of! That was one great football game.” We all trotted down to where D.A. sat on the field. I stuck out my hand and helped him up. The rest of the Bulldogs had joined us by now and we all slapped skins and gave each other congratulations. Brain put his arm around Shoeless Joe’s shoulder and told him that he had played a great game. D.A. looked at Anna and said, “If you can’t find a team next year, you’ve got a spot on ours.” “Thanks,” she said. “Oh, she’s got a spot on this team next year,” said Bubba-Bubba, apparently oblivious to the fact that the player she would replace would probably be him.
Eventually, we all headed back up the hill together. All except Bubba-Bubba, of course. As we left he ran into his house and we could hear him yelling. “Momma, Momma! I won! I won!” Walking up the hill, D.A. said to Anna, “You had the hat trick today.” “What’s the hat trick?” she asked. I didn’t know what it was and I was pretty sure Brain and Billy didn’t know, either. “You ran for a touchdown, caught a touchdown pass and threw a touchdown pass. That’s the hat trick.” So, old D.A. wasn’t as dull a crayon as everybody thought. We stopped at Anna’s and they headed on up the hill toward Boulderview. I said to Anna, “You know you scored every one of our points except for that last touchdown, which you made happen,” I said. She said, “I wasn’t aware. See you Monday at school.” She grinned sheepishly and headed up her driveway. I headed home to get ready and go out to Davis Bros. Cafeteria with my parents for supper.
That was the first and only Neighborhood Football League Championship Game. By the next year most of us had pretty much outgrown it. After a couple of games, everybody just quit showing up. Brain and I were playing football at school. Billy became serious about the trumpet and was playing in both the marching band and the school symphony. All of us had grown a good six to eight inches taller than Bubba-Bubba and had pretty much quit paying attention to his attempts to order us around. About halfway through the season he got a job working in the grocery store.
Falling off of the monkey bars and breaking his arm may have been the best thing that ever happened to Snail. It seems like he found his true calling in the Championship Game. His family moved away the next summer and he became an All-State center in high school. He played college ball at Appalachian State and became one of the most decorated high school coaches in North Carolina history.
Anna’s parents divorced within the next year and she and her mom moved away. I walked over to her house the morning she and her mom were leaving. “Where are y’all moving?” I asked. “Decatur,” she said.
“Call me and give me your number. I’m sure I’ll need help with my math homework.”
“Okay.”
“Here, I’ve got something for you.”
I handed her a Rich’s shopping bag. She took it, looked in and pulled out the trophy. Bubba-Bubba had begrudgingly agreed to let each of us hold it for a couple of months. “Oh, Tommy!” she gasped. “I can’t take this.” Sure you can,” I said. “What’s Bubba-Bubba gonna do, beat me up? Besides, he wouldn’t even have it if it weren’t for you. It’s really your trophy.” She looked at it again and then started to cry. She hugged my neck and sobbed, “I’m going to miss you.” Choking down the big lump in my throat, I said, “I’m gonna miss you too.” As I started back across the street she called out, “Hey, Brooks!” I turned around and said, “Yeah?” She smiled and said, “Study your multiplication tables.” I laughed, turned around and headed home, wagging my right index finger in the air. I never saw or heard from her again.
A week after she moved, the phone rang. It was Bubba-Bubba. “It’s Billy’s turn with the trophy,” he said. “I don’t have it anymore,” I replied. “Where is it?” he demanded. “I gave it to Anna,” I said. There was silence on the other end. Then he said, “You owe me five bucks!” and hung up on me.
The day after the first and only Neighborhood Football League Championship Game, in Miami at the Orange Bowl Stadium, a brash young quarterback from Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania would change football forever. For nine boys on a side-yard flood plain in the suburbs of Atlanta, both football and life had already been changed. Forever.
Author’s Note: The pictures below are the field as it is today. The flood plain has all but disappeared, although some of the dormant bermuda grass is still visible. The woods to the right have been ravaged by kudzu and the defunct swimming pool is right in the middle of the field in front of the end zone. Amazingly, the two trees that served as the goal posts are still standing. The two limbs that formed the crossbar are long gone. –J.
