Home > Get Out! > Archives > 2008 > April > 10 > Entry
Come watch the Outlaws
So here we are, the Austin Outlaws, just four practices before the first game of the season; a useful, and by all accounts exceptionally favorable, scrimmage behind us.
I’ve personally recovered from a torn quad, a broken finger, and the repeated aggravation of my floppy ankles. I’ve learned and relearned how to hit, move my feet, take criticism from coaches (even if I remain awkward with praise) and how to incorporate (barely) the addition of workouts and practice into an already hectic life. I’ve learned that anger does not have to be frustrating and self-directed, that it can be as energizing and helpful to performance as a cold sports drink.
There are players on my team I still don’t know well, and some who may care little for what they know of me, and yet already I foster a feeling of ferocious protectiveness towards every one of my teammates who heretofore has been reserved for my scant and tattered family. I do not want to let my fellow players down. And unlike a family of origin, which can sometimes be an endless font of disapproval (mine, anyway), I have a good idea about how not to disappoint my team: listen, watch, work hard, and then work harder.
There’s more to it than that. For someone who has not participated in any team sports for at least a decade (and can report only the slimmest positive experience with them), the challenge of physical improvement is invigorating. When I ran trails, or hiked on mountains and through deserts, my only competitor was myself — a rousing contest, to be sure — but without the ever-present invigoration of matching my potential to someone else’s execution. Lacking, also, the wide-eyed stares and probing questions from my daughter’s classmates when I mention I play women’s semi-professional football.
“You do what?”
They breathlessly throng forward with a look in the eye of, “Is that even possible?”
Everyone wants to know: “Do you (dramatic pause) wear pads?”
“Yes, I wear pads. Full contact.”
“Wow.”
It’s there, in that moment; that an assumption developed even in children as young as 5 or 6, just shrivels up and blows away: boys play football and girls don’t. Because there I am, a living breathing example who can be imagined (hopefully with more grace and power than I actually possess) and used for future refutation. Such as when a schoolyard Schopenhauer insisted to my daughter that she could not possibly like Pokemon cards because she was a girl (albeit, luckily, one capable of finding serious flaws in that line of reasoning).
And if suffering empowerment fatigue is a hallmark of this election year, and you simply can’t stand any more milestones thrown through any more glass ceilings, the Austin Outlaws are simply fun to be a part of. The team is fun to watch. Although I have fun at every practice, you don’t have to take my word for it. Come see the Austin Outlaws play their first game, in Houston, on April 19; or at the first home game on May 10. And bring your daughters.
Permalink | Comments (0) | Post your comment Categories: The Get Out! crew
Comments
Click here to report comment abuse.