Touchdown Sally

There are some who would contend that women can’t—or shouldn’t—block, hit, or tackle. But one Saturday morning in late April, the players and coaches who constitute our state’s premier women’s tackle-football team, were demonstrating just how tough the gentler sex can be. For the team’s annual tryouts, the Minnesota Vixen had congregated in the lobby of Klas Center, Hamline University’s student union. Even though there had been a steady downpour that morning, the team held out hope that some promising newbies would show, prepared to run through drills with the returning players. “In the rain?” whined a young offensive guard. “This is football!” howled an elder teammate.

Then Michelle Braun, a veteran center, marched in, her new, custom-made “Zena” shoulder pads in tow. “Are those the boob pads?” asked Sara Schoen, a lithe, thirty-something tight end. Schoen grabbed the silvery, robotic-looking shoulder pads, and fingered the breast plate, as if trying to figure the cup size. The problem with traditional shoulder pads, complained Schoen, is that they ride up. Some women cannot fit them over their breasts, and so must wear this essential equipment uncomfortably high on their shoulders. But these “Zena” numbers, tailored to fit a C-cup by prominent pad maker Douglas, are, Braun asserted, much more comfortable.

The players were dressed in waterproof pants and embroidered team sweatshirts. Bandanas were tied around many of their foreheads, or they wore their hair pulled back into ponytails and buns. Many of the teammates hadn’t seen one another since last season’s finale; as they gathered at four round tables, they dissolved into a huddle of chatter and hugs. Meanwhile, visitors and hopefuls were made to feel welcome. Life partners were introduced. Many women related stories of having played on boys’ football teams. There was even a little gossip; the juiciest tidbit involved the team’s twenty-four-year-old star linebacker, Kim Miller, a tall, thin (but sturdy) player who grew up in a Mennonite family of ten children. Miller, it turns out, is dating one of the team’s coaches, although her teammates seemed uniformly pleased by how professionally the pair has handled their entanglement.

Through all this, a trim, blond-haired young man with a wide smile and sunny disposition was buzzing about. Doug Farwell has never played football—the closest he came was marching band. But he now finds himself serving as the team’s volunteer president nevertheless, lured in by his wife, Carrie, an offensive tackle. Farwell busied himself handing out waivers, checking for proof of health insurance, distributing the player handbook—which included the eight-game 2006 schedule—and collecting player fees (one thousand dollars per player per year—plus equipment). The best thing to come of Farwell’s advanced organizational skills of late: securing the Klas Center Field, a modern, comfortable facility, for the Vixen’s four upcoming home games, where fans will finally be able to get a beer.

Farwell was not the only X-Y chromosome in this fray. The Vixen have seven coaches—all men. Segregating themselves at their own table, the coaches were rarely seen interacting with players. What’s with the all-male coaching staff? Men know the game better, having been given the opportunity to play high school and college football, claimed Head Coach Wayne Erickson. His explanation seemed reasonable enough, but then, venturing an amateur psychosexual theory, Coach Erickson attempted to elaborate, saying, rather quietly, “You know as well as I do that, in certain situations, women tend to become a little headstrong. One woman defensive lineman trying to teach another woman defensive lineman? That’s just not going to work.”

Out on the soggy field, the women were directed through endurance, agility, and footwork drills. A walk-on emerged as a promising candidate for running back. The participants in the passing drills consistently fired precise lasers and bullets; and as it turns out, naught a one Vixen threw like a girl.

“Big girls come with me,” shouted defensive coach Dann Lickness, gesturing with his arm. The self-identified burlier players scampered after him. Down at the opposite end of the field, they practiced blocking exercises. Meanwhile, the leaner quarterbacks, running backs, and receivers continued to pass and catch.

“This brings back so many memories,” said Dave Mora-Clark, a squat assistant coach. Although he had taken refuge off the field, and was now standing under an umbrella, he seemed to be getting only more drenched while admiring the wet fieldscape. Raindrops dripped from his eyelashes. “Now this,” he said, with a sigh, “this is football.”


Posted

in

by

Tags:

Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.