Judged for Who You’re Not on the Football Field

I was getting bored with academic things, being in every co-curricular activity and being stuck with exceptionally easy work in the classroom. One day I heard over the PA that there was a football club starting and I just thought “Yes!” I had no idea how to play, had never watched a game in my life, and ended up forgetting to go to the meeting. Luckily, a friend of mine, D, forgot his permission slip in the library and by the time I tried to return it to him he had another one.

The first day was the scariest. The same friend quickly explained to me how to play when we were on patrols, but he made it sound like a giant game of freeze tag. The other boys on the patrol squad who were also in football faked enthusiasm about me joining, but the only person who I actually felt believed that I could do it was D, including the coaches. Running wildly around the field clueless as to what was going on, I managed to make a near-perfect catch as nobody was covering me. Had I known how to play, I could easily have made a touchdown, but as it was I was happy when people actually started to pay attention to the nerdy girl in the corner as a potential threat.

“That was an awesome catch,” D complimented me after the game.

“Thanks. It would have been better if I had actually known what to do with it. That wasn’t a bad touchdown, either.”

I found that the ball fit perfectly in my hands most of the time, and for once I had a positive experience working in a team. I felt like the game was meant for me, or at least I was meant for it. Why hadn’t I discovered it faster?

I knew why, of course. I’d always felt excluded by the boys when they played at recess, shouting “hut” and whatnot, leaving me at the sidelines with not even a basic comprehension of what they were doing. My phys. ed. teacher made us play without teaching us the game, which was frustrating and lead to nothing. I might have learned on the field later on, but it was with (albeit a small amount of) support, not whiny whistles screeching.

Even when I’d build up a small reputation within the football club of being a person who could actually play, I was subject to sexism anyway because the two or three other girls who were in the club only ever came out because they had massive crushes on the boys. It was ridiculous, especially when they didn’t actually play but instead gossiped. What the heck does a twelve year old have to gossip about anyway? By the third game nobody, including me, wanted a girl on their team. It just let the game down. Was this sexism? I’m not sure. I try to tell myself it wasn’t, because we had good reason.

I’m lucky I had a friend there, especially one who was well respected by the other members and who respected me enough to let me play. At the end of the season, people told me things like “You know, I never even thought of you as a girl because you actually played. And you played well.” It wasn’t exactly the comment of my dreams, but it was acceptance nonetheless, and I’m grateful for it. I can only hope that in the future, those irksome girls who don’t have anything to contribute to the game because they don’t actually want to play will give up, go away, and the serious players can be seen for who they are.