Football - Part 4c

A necessary sidebar to any discussion of my sophomore year of high school is the story of my relationship with K. Some of our first and best moments together took place, perhaps unfortunately, with football as the backdrop. While most of the details of our relationship must, as always, remain private, a few snapshots are worth sharing for the view they allow into my story and my character.

Of all the people I have ever known, K is the only one I have ever considered superior to me in every way. I am smart and (sometimes) a good student, she was valedictorian of our high school class and earned straight As through four years of college. I am, or was, a pretty good athlete, she lettered in three sports and currently runs marathons. I can be momentarily kind, nice and friendly, she is (according to everyone who has ever met her) a constant saint. One might wonder, given these facts, why she would ever be interested in me. The answer is I do not have the foggiest clue. Must have been the uniform.

Though I had known her since freshman year (mainly as the annoying girl who bugged me in homeroom every day about Biology class), and had become friends with her through other means, our first "moment" occurred in the stands during one of the first varsity home games of that season.

It was customary at that time for the sophomore players, after their morning game, to shower, eat and head back into the stands to support the varsity team during their afternoon game. Given that I had arrived at school very early that Saturday morning when comfort trumped fashion, I went into the stands that autumn afternoon wearing an old hoodie and pajama pants. I sat down among a group of my teammates and other friends and began watching the game. As the crowd filled up our group merged with those around us and, whether by chance or design, I ended up sitting next to K. We chatted between cheers about unimportant and unmemorable topics until, suddenly, I stood up and took off my pants.

The impetus for this bizarre act was that she was wearing shorts and shivering. She politely refused my offer until I reassured her that: I had just played an entire football game; I have abnormally high body temperature; and, most importantly, I was wearing shorts underneath. Whether or not my assurances were lies, she took and wore the pants. When I asked her some time later what the first moment was when she knew I liked her she named this instance, and she was right.

After growing even closer over the following few weeks I took the next step and asked her, in a very romantic and clever way, to our Homecoming dance. She said yes, with one condition. Under no circumstances was I to get hurt. Even if I broke both my legs she would carry me into the dance herself just so she could show off her dress. I accepted her condition, and took every opportunity I could to scare the hell out of her with fake injuries. I even borrowed a friend's crutches one morning so the first time she saw me would be hobbling into homeroom with a grimace on my face.

Despite her threats not to attend my games for fear of jinxing an injury, she came to all of them, including the Homecoming game played on the back field in several inches of thick mud. To her credit she stood in the drizzling rain for over an hour watching my team and I slip slide our way to a blowout win. When our starters were replaced with scrubs in the second half I made my way over to her, coated in mud, and offered a hug. She refused, but with a smile. Later that night, amongst a number of very entertaining moments, we danced, dined and officially began dating.