On sunny and humid afternoons, you can hear the crash of football pads reporting around the neighborhood like shotguns. Boys grunting in unison as they are urged to run a little faster, hit a little harder and take pain like a man's man. In green and white jersey they scramble over the grass, extending limbs and twisting into positions to get the ball now, and damn the consequences when they hit the ground.
If you were closer to the field you would hear, mixed among the savage yells and curse words, the banshee cry of a woman unhinged. Flinging herself at every obstacle in her path, and shouldering through piles of muscle hell bent on stopping her, and putting her on her back.
Look closer still and you could see melding expressions on her face, looks of glee, hatred and satisfaction when she buckles her shoulders under an unsuspecting senior, flipping him into the air after knocking his breath out of lungs through his stomach. She had been told in the past that her eyes were fierce. Highly expressive hazel orbs that made speech unnecessary. After a look from this girl, you rarely needed to ask for clarification. She would stare across the field like she was fighting in a battle, her shoulders tall and proud and her legs bent in preparation for the next hit.
As the first young woman EVER in the history of her city's school system to be allowed to play football, this young woman (after a messy argument that almost wound up in court) demanded that the coach place her on the Varsity team. The coach conceded quickly that this was a fine plan, as she was more likely to pick the bench up and break it over her knee, than to keep it warm. She was allowed to play, and although she was a full 7 inches shorter than most young men on the team, she secured her place as Linebacker by systematically injuring every member of it, throwing herself against them like she was moving mountains.
On this particular day, there was a new boy on the team. A transfer student from another school in the city. Rather than hold more try outs, and seeing the boys natural talent, the coach had ushered him onto the team quietly. Today was his first day.
Sweat had saturated her hair, and was pouring down her forehead, stinging her eyes. While there was a lull in activity she quickly unhitched her chin strap and tucked her helmet between her knees. Taking down her loose bun of hair (It only fit because she cut a hole in the back of her helmet pads) she wrung the sweat out of her bangs. The new boy, 20 feet from her at 7 o clock, smacked another tight end in the ribs and guffawed "DUDE! Is that a CHICK?!" The TE nodded at him solemnly and seeing her whip around and shoot off a glare at the comment, took two steps away from the guy. She made up her mind right then to establish some "repoir" with the new guy during the next play, probably with an elbow in his lower back.
Whistle sounds, and they were off. Running in cross direction at the opposing line, she sees her new friend shouldering against another, a battle of inches. Her lips curled up on the left side and her feet left the ground, leaping over the legs of a fallen boy she reached out, snatched the other guy by the waist and flung him around with such force, that he landed on the other side of her, on his face. She hit the ground with a tuck and roll, then popped up on her feet with the next whistle. On her way back to her place, she shoved past the new boy, although there was in fact, 43 yards of walking room.
Change up lines, she got switched to the other side, and settled herself squarely in front of him. She was already savagely happy, knowing he was about to get a great view of her ass while she stepped on his grill and walked on. GO! Get lower, all the strength in her thighs, fingers lightly touch tops of grass, here he comes. CRACK! Top of helmet meets chest and shove! Upwards, watch his feet leave the ground, feel his knee in your shoulder, and STAND UP! Screaming like a warrior, she raised her arms in triumph when she felt his center of gravity shift, and the pull of fabric as she felt him quite literally drip off of her back. Time for a strut.
In the locker room, behind her makeshift sheets that separated her from the rest of the guys, she occupied herself with pulling bloody bandaids and bits of sports tape from her hands and knees. The sheet moved, and she found herself standing in her ruffled panties, looking in amazement at the new guy standing there staring at her in full uniform. Quickly she stepped over the bench and grabbed him by the front of his mask, using his head to fling the rest of his body up against a row of lockers. "Something I can fucking help you with?" She hissed, inches from his face, daring him to push back.
Surprisingly, the new boy didn't try to push her off, his knees didn't tremble, he didn't try to avoid her stare. He just looked at her and calmly replied "No, I thought you might need something." She nodded her head sarcastically, and backed off of him, turning around and grabbing a pair of scissors from her bag. She pulled at the ties of her underarmor and started peeling her shirt up, revealing bruises in the shaped of things like cleats, kneecaps, palms. From underneath her shirt she mumbled "I supposed you want to carry my books for me and walk me home? I am such a delicate girl, Heh." She rolled her eyes when she heard nothing in response. Going about her business she wrestled out of the shirt, and with the scissors started cutting away the ace bandages and duct tape she used to avoid injury to her breasts. Craning around to try and peel off a piece that was stuck to her shoulderblade, using the scissors to wedge it off. She stopped cold when she heard the clack of cleats on the painted cement floor, and felt his warmth on her back. Her eyes narrowed and with her free hand she started to crack knuckles to ready it for use.
She felt the tentative touch of his fingers on her hand, gently assuming control of the scissors. She let them drop from her palm, and felt that pesky bit of tape being peeled very gently from her back. His finger tracing delicately around the fresh cleat scrape that had only just begun to scab over. They stood there for a long series of moments, letting the noise of the team slamming lockers and laughing at eachother's jokes ebb and finally wane. After the quiet arrived, she heard him take off his helmet and saw him place it on the bench next to hers in the edge of her vision. Taking the oppurtunity to collect herself, she quickly crawled into a fesh T shirt and turned around to face him, but he was already on the floor unlacing her cleat.
Her face screwed into a confused look as she looked down at him. He was sitting on his heels, back straight, gently and slowly pulling each string to loosen it. She fumbled and started to raise her voice , "Where the fuck do you get off..." But when he looked up at her and brought his hands back to his thighs she found herself unable to continue being angry. Instead she stuck out her other foot.
The new boy did end up carrying her books home, almost every day for the rest of the school year.
And at the end of practice, her gear was removed, her wounds tended and her bruises kissed, before his cleats even came off. They went to prom, and he carried her from the Limo to the Gym on his back.
He did actually, go on to play college football, and the young woman, sadly, has not been able to kick down that door yet. She watched him on T.V. though, always proud.
Last week at Confessions I got to thinking about my first experiences, and how I came to love myself better as a dominant woman.
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