The Football Girl

by Thatcher Heldring

  “I’m coming for you tomorrow, McCleary,” Dobie said as we stretched on the field the day before the game.

  “I’m shaking,” I said.

  “And you’ll have to go through me,” Nick answered.

  While Nick and Dobie went at each other, I watched Tessa come out of the girls’ locker room wearing football pants, a jersey, and shoulder pads. She waved to the other receivers, then found a spot on the grass by herself.

  I jogged over to her. “Last day,” I said. “You ready for the scrimmage tomorrow?”

  Tessa sat down, extended her leg out in front of her, leaned over her knee, and reached for her toes. “I guess,” she said, in a voice I knew by now meant I’m acting like there’s something wrong and I don’t want to talk about it, except I really do.

  I sat down a few feet away from her. “Are you nervous? It’s not that big a deal. It’s just a scrimmage.”

  “That’s just it,” she said. “It’s just a scrimmage. I’ve been here for almost two weeks, and I haven’t done anything, nothing anybody will ever be impressed by.”

  “It’s just football camp. I don’t think ESPN is coming.”

  Tessa sat up and glared at me. “Shut up. You’re not funny.”

  “Okay, but all I’m saying is, nobody here has done anything that great. We’re all running and doing drills, and that’s about it. The highlights come later, when the season starts.”

  “What if I don’t make it that far?”

  “What do you mean? You’ll make JV.”

  Tessa shook her head. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m not sure I want to play high school football. In fact, I’m pretty sure I don’t.”

  Tricky situation. I could have either acted really surprised even though I wasn’t, or acted like I wasn’t surprised, which would basically have been like telling Tessa I told you so. The one thing I could not do was tell Tessa that I was relieved. I genuinely believed she could be on the football team, and I thought she had a right to be on the football team. But if I was being totally honest, I would say that I really, really didn’t want Tessa to be on the football team, and I was sure there was no guy on earth who would have felt any differently if he’d been in my shoes.

  “All I can say is, it’s awesome that you were here. I’ll remember it.”

  It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to me, and it was even better because it was the truth. Caleb hadn’t been trying to cheer me up. He’d just said it because that was what he thought. He probably didn’t even realize how much his words meant to me. I was tempted to write a note telling him. First, though, I wanted to destroy him on the football field.

  I woke up on the last day of camp and immediately started doing jumping jacks in my room. I shadowboxed in front of the mirror. I did push-ups until my arms gave out. Then I went to the kitchen, pounded the water bottle I’d put in the fridge the night before, refilled it, and drained it again.

  After that I belched so loudly, it woke my parents.

  “Are you feeling all right?” Mom said over breakfast. “It sounded like you were getting sick earlier.”

  “Oh, that was just the garbage disposal,” I said. “I’m fine. Ready for football.”

  “So are we,” Dad answered as he spread cream cheese on a toasted bagel.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re coming to your game,” Mom said.

  “It’s not really a game,” I answered. “And most of the people there won’t be old enough to vote.”

  “I’m just going as your mother. Besides, things are quiet in the campaign. The general election isn’t until November. I’ve got plenty of time to take down Joe Sterling.”

  “And a ten-point lead in the polls,” Dad added.

  “Unless you don’t want us there,” Mom said. “This is your day. I don’t want to be a distraction.”

  My mom was making an effort. This was a small step, but I would take it. She was coming to watch me. Not the other way around.

  “Mom.”

  “Yes?”

  “Get over yourself.”

  —

  There was a crowd at the field. Mom and Dad weren’t the only ones who had come to watch. Caleb’s family was there too—even Charlie, who was surrounded by a mob of older players in letterman jackets. I saw a group of younger girls sitting together in the front row of the bleachers, knocking back popcorn and pointing like they were at a real game. I had to take a deep breath and tell myself to relax. I wasn’t expecting to be a hero or to do anything special. I just wanted to finish my tackle football career with dignity. Catch a few passes. Maybe haul in a touchdown. Embarrass the other team. Hug the opposing quarterback in front of all of his friends. Normal football stuff.

  Coach St. James pulled us together before kickoff.

  “I’m proud of all of you,” he said. CLAP. Then he pointed to us one at a time. “You’re football players.” CLAP. “I hope you’ll play for me this fall.” CLAP. “Let’s go get this done.” CLAP.

  We all clapped back.

  —

  After the game, I went to the girls’ locker room. I sat on the bench and stared at the walls. In the other locker room, I could hear the boys shouting, laughing, banging lockers.

  “I’ll always have you,” I said to my helmet.

  Before I could help it, I was crying and smiling at the same time. Crying because I would never put on a helmet again, because I hated being alone in a locker room while everyone else was together, because I missed running with my friends and being a threesome of athletic power. And I was smiling because I had nothing to prove to anyone, especially myself. Even though I would have liked one highlight to end on.

  The silence was broken by the locker room’s metal door swinging open. Suddenly I was sharing the space with three girls—maybe fifth graders. They each had a bag of popcorn in their hands.

  “Are you looking for the bathroom?” I asked.

  One of them stepped forward. “My name is Kate Parker. Are you the football girl?” she asked.

  “Her name is Tessa,” one of Kate’s friends whispered in disgust.

  Kate spun around. “I know that, Julia,” Kate shot back, hitting the know hard. “So, are you?” she asked me again.

  “I’m Tessa,” I said.

  “Told you,” said Julia.

  Kate clenched her jaw but kept her eyes on me. “I just think…Well, we think you’re really cool and it’s awesome that you play football. My brother Aaron is on the football team, and I want to play too when I’m older.”

  I had to stop myself from saying, Are you crazy?

  Here was this young girl telling me that her dream was to put on shoulder pads and a helmet and feel like she’s getting hit by a wrecking ball for fun. To run sprints in the summer heat. To risk injury. To hear over and over again how football wasn’t for girls. I wanted to tell her to join the swim team or Girl Scouts or anything besides football. Then I pictured her in four years with longer legs and muscles and bigger hands, and I got scared that whatever came out of my mouth now could be with her forever. What if she remembered me asking her Are you crazy? every time she wondered if she should try something new? There would be enough people saying that. She didn’t need to hear it from me, the football girl, who she thought was really cool.

  I knew then that this was the highlight I had been waiting for.

  My win.

  I handed Kate the helmet. “You want to try this on?” I asked.

  Kate nodded. Her head disappeared into the helmet. But I could hear two words from behind the face mask. “This stinks!”

  I smiled to myself and thought, Get used to it.

  FAST AND FEARLESS,

  THE FOOTBALL GIRL TAKES THE FIELD

  * * *

  Beth Meyer | Pilchuck Observer

  There will be no record of the game played at Logger Field on Friday. It was a simple training scrimmage—a chance for boys with football dreams to put their new skills on display in front of coaches,
older players, and family. Even the final score was in dispute. One coach guessed his team had won by a touchdown. Another thought it might have been a tie. Though it is hard to imagine two teams of highly competitive boys being content to play a game with no clear winner, the real surprise might be that not all of the players were boys.

  Or is it?

  When Tessa Dooley used a live television appearance to announce her intent to play organized football, it felt like the start of something momentous. How would the town react to this daring defiance of tradition? Even her own parents were uneasy with her ambitions.

  “I always said that if I had a son, I would never let him play football,” said her mother, Jane Dooley, the city councilwoman running for mayor. “But how could I hold my daughter back from crossing the same kind of invisible line that I’ve had to cross myself? What I learned is that it’s more than a game.”

  Indeed, Tessa appears to have made history. There is no record of a girl suiting up for an official game of tackle football, at least in Pilchuck. Nationally, the number of girls playing high school football is small, but growing—more than 1,600 last year.

  Don’t bother Tessa with any of these numbers, though. “She never wanted to make history,” says Caleb McCleary, 14, who identified himself as Tessa’s boyfriend. “She just wanted to make a catch—and maybe the team.” Caleb admitted there was resistance to the idea of Tessa being at camp. “There were a few guys who were worried she’d get hurt or that she’d be a distraction. But most of us were cool with it. I mean, it’s the same deal with anyone. If you can play, you can play. My dad is kind of old-school, and even he had to give it up for Tessa in the end.”

  What does it take to convince a skeptic that a girl can hold her own on the football field? Here’s one way: use a slick combination of speed and agility to lead the undersized B team with five catches, including three for first downs and one in the back of the end zone. Tessa did all that Friday on her way to a standing ovation, and, for good measure, she shook off a blistering hit and threw a few bone-crushing blocks of her own.

  Tessa remains silent about her football future, declining to say whether she will try out for the high school team or return to cross-country running. “I guess what matters is that I have a choice,” she says. “Whether I play football in high school or not, I’ll never have to wonder what was possible. I came out, played hard, threw a mean block or two, and broke a few tackles. That’s a win to me. I hope any girl who has the heart to play football will do the same.”

  Thank you to Krista and Elizabeth for the guidance and support, and thanks most of all to my wife, Staci, for putting up with this writer for another book. KOTN.

  What’s next on

  your reading list?

  Discover your next

  great read!

  * * *

  Get personalized book picks and up-to-date news about this author.

  Sign up now.