“It’s only practice if it’s as real as it gets!”

Pete's Vagina

72.1 Taking the Field

by Erin Halfelven

I took the field after Coach’s little talk, my mind whirling. Was it true that the guys had been going easy on me, holding back a little when they needed to make a tackle? Coach claimed he had noticed it, then asked some of the guys, and they admitted it. Well, I needed some answers, too.

I ran out from the bleachers to where the assistant coach was running the team through some drills. I ran hard, even though it was less than 20 yards away. Matt Hopper, the strong side tackle who usually lined up on scrimmage right in front of me, was talking to Simon Roche, one of the guards, while they waited for the next drill.

I ran straight into Matt, taking him behind the knees and knocking him down. Matt’s barely taller than me, but outweighs me by sixty pounds. Not expecting a collision, he went down like a sack of cement. I remembered the last time he had tackled me in practice, and I was pissed!

“What the hell, Pete?” he complained from the ground.

“I thought I could trust you!” I screamed at him. I added a few curse words, too, but he started that shit.

I confronted the team—Jake, Dave, Up, Gogo, and the rest—all of them standing around me with their damned faces hanging out. “Are we a team?” I screamed. “Can I count on you?”

“Ease up, Pete, easy,” Jake spoke calmly. “What’s up?”

I might have been crying. “Coach tells me, Coach says, that you guys have been going easy on me in practice!” Coach himself came up beside me just then, but I dodged away from him, turning to face the team. “You think the other team is going to go easy on me in a game?”

“Bunch a cowards!” I tried not to sniffle, but let tears and snot run down my face. “Afraid you’re going to hurt me!”

“It’s just practice, Pete,” Simon said.

“It’s only practice if it’s as real as it gets!” I screamed at him. “If it ain’t, we’re just playing pattycake!”

“I didn’t know you were going to take it so hard,” Coach murmured. “Ease off, Pete!”

I pointed toward the visitors’ bench across the field. “Do you think those Apaches, the Timberwolves, the Wolf Pack, whatever they call themselves, are going to ease off tonight?” I raged at them. Some of them cringed or looked sideways at Coach or Jake.

“I gotta count on you guys to make me ready for the worst they can do!”

“They lead the league in fouls and unnecessary roughness,” put in Dave, grinning like a coyote. I glared at him on general principles. He looked to be the only person enjoying this.

“‘Cause if I ain’t ready for the worst they can do on the field, because you guys were going easy on me…!” I didn’t finish that, just threw back my head and screamed.

Jake stepped beside me and put an arm across my shoulders, pulling me against him, pads to pads. “Are we a team?” he bellowed. The same thing I had asked, but he got a response.

“Rah! Lions!” they roared.

“Friendly pride!” Jake said. “Who’s the only girl tough enough to be a Lion?”

“Me!” I yelled in my cheerleader shout. “This girl plays football with the boys!”

They roared again and kept roaring.

Then Jake kissed me! On the forehead, but Jesus, Jake, what were you thinking?!

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