Unnecessary Toughness
Posted: Sun Jun 12, 2011 11:34 am
Special thanks to Roach for multiple re-reads, and Peyton for giving me some insight into Westbrook athletics
Coach Armstrong blew his whistle, signaling the end of another Phys Ed class. The assorted boys groaned in relief. It was the first sunny day in a week and the kids had been in high spirits, more inclined to laze about than buckle down to work. Coach had pushed them back in line though, and the return to normal gravity was welcomed by the boys.
"Hit the showers, boys! And that's not a euphemism, Copeland!" The wiry boy waved off the coach's rebuke, too winded to provide his usual sharp comeback.
Coach Armstrong was observing the stragglers and about to follow the group back into the gym when a light voice called from across the field behind him. "Coach Armstrong?"
The coach turned around to see a girl jogging across the width of the football field. She was tiny, but as she ran Armstrong could see she had the easy gait of a practiced athlete. When she reached him on the opposite sideline, she was hardly out of breath. She was wearing the standard school uniform, with pants rather than the popular skirt option, but her jacket was a bold red and white letter jacket. Definitely not Westbrook-issue.
"Can I help you, Miss?" There'd been a flurry of new students with the start of the new trimester, and considering he was the boys' PE teacher, learning the girls' names wasn't high on his priority list.
"I believe you can. I'm Diya Behari, and I want to be on your football team."
Armstrong lowered his head to look over the top of his dark glasses at the girl. He was about to ask the slip of a girl if she was serious, but the gleam in her eye and the set of her jaw gave him his answer. "Well, you're a little early. Conditioning starts in August."
“Well, I want to be there when conditioning starts.”
Coach Armstrong eyed the slim girl again, glad the dark sunglasses hid the expression in his eyes. “And what makes you think you should be playing with the big boys on the football field?”
Diya pulled herself up straighter and squared her shoulders. This was her big moment. "I don't know if you're aware, Coach Armstrong, but Title IX requires that equal sports opportunities be afforded to both boys and girls. If a sport doesn't have opportunities for both male and female students, then the opposite gendered student must be allowed a chance to try out, on equal footing, for the other team."
Coach Armstrong nodded firmly. "You've certainly got the basics of Title IX down there, Miss Behari, but you overlooked something: Title IX only applies when the school gets public funding. We're private and, quite frankly, can do whatever we want."
Diya's shoulder's slumped slightly, but the set of her face remained firm. "There may not be any legal recourse, but surely the school would hate the bad PR they'd get if word got out you were employing sexist athletic standards."
Coach Armstrong threw back his head and laughed loudly, causing Diya to lose her calm demeanor and stare wide eyed at the coach. She had prepared herself for a number of reactions, but somehow getting laughed off the field hadn't occurred to her.
After catching his breath quickly, Coach Armstrong said to Diya "Miss Behari, you got spunk. I like that. Now, have you ever actually played football before?"
"Not really. Well, okay, not at all. But I gotta do something around here, and cheering on a bunch of boys isn't gonna cut it."
Coach Armstrong nodded. "Okay, do you know what position you'd like to play?"
Diya nodded eagerly. Ever since she'd come up with the idea of trying out for football she'd been researching the game frantically. She knew she wasn't the first girl to want to play the game with the boys, and found what looked like the perfect position for someone of her stature and skills. "Kicker."
"Oh good, you do know something. I was worried you were gonna want all the glory of the quarterback."
"Well, I wouldn't mind being the quarterback," Diya interjected.
"Let's walk before we run, Miss Behari. There's an equipment bag up at the 50 yard line, why don't you grab a ball from there and we'll see what we're working with."
Diya grinned and sprinted to the equipment bag. She dug inside for a moment before pulling out a grungy football and sprinting back to Coach Armstrong. The coach observed her form as she ran. Definitely an athlete of some kind already. A couple of the new girls had been athletes, he recalled from the batch of new student files he'd seen.
With the ball in hand, Coach Armstrong led Diya to the 20 yard line. Not an easy kick, but far from impossible, and he didn't want the girl to think he was patronizing her. He knelt down and held the ball in position. "Let's see what you can do, shall we?"
Diya took a few steps back. In her mind she replayed the YouTube clips she'd been studying all week. Vinatieri, with his two Super Bowl clenching kicks. Kimrin, in his record-setting kick in Denver. Grostkowski. Carpenter. And this was at a fraction of the lengths they were aiming for! Easy as pie.
She took her running start, swerved in, and kicked!
Her eyes anxiously followed the ball, up and up...and over the crossbars, dead center. A big grin lit up her face as she looked at Coach Armstrong. He was still staring at the field goal when he said gruffly. “Grab the ball, let’s try it again. Make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”
Diya’s grin instantly fell into a frown, but she figured the rules in gymnastics were probably the same in football - if you know what’s good for you, don’t argue with the coach. She sprinted to grab the ball, then ran back to the coach, who’d backed up ten yards.
After a dozen more perfect kicks at various lengths across the field, Armstrong let Diya take a break. “Are you going to let me try out for the team?” Diya demanded, a little tired of being asked to perform like a circus pony.
“Well, Miss Behari, I gotta confess, I may not have been entirely straight with you earlier.”
Diya narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yeah?”
“There’s another reason Title IX doesn’t apply to us here at Westbrook - our sports teams are all co-ed”
Diya’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”
“And there really isn’t much of a try out process. You sign up, you’re on the team.”
Diya stood up straighter, her eyes alight again with anger. “Then why have you been making me run all over the place?”
“You seemed determined to prove something, I figured I’d let you. Besides, I gotta admit I was curious about what someone who had never played the game before could do.” Coach Armstrong slapped Diya on the shoulder amiably. “Look forward to seeing you in August, Behari. Keep out of trouble until then, okay? I promise, we’re not out to get you.”
Diya grinned. “Got it, Coach.” It sure wasn’t gymnastics, but she was going to be competing again. She liked the sound of that.
Coach Armstrong blew his whistle, signaling the end of another Phys Ed class. The assorted boys groaned in relief. It was the first sunny day in a week and the kids had been in high spirits, more inclined to laze about than buckle down to work. Coach had pushed them back in line though, and the return to normal gravity was welcomed by the boys.
"Hit the showers, boys! And that's not a euphemism, Copeland!" The wiry boy waved off the coach's rebuke, too winded to provide his usual sharp comeback.
Coach Armstrong was observing the stragglers and about to follow the group back into the gym when a light voice called from across the field behind him. "Coach Armstrong?"
The coach turned around to see a girl jogging across the width of the football field. She was tiny, but as she ran Armstrong could see she had the easy gait of a practiced athlete. When she reached him on the opposite sideline, she was hardly out of breath. She was wearing the standard school uniform, with pants rather than the popular skirt option, but her jacket was a bold red and white letter jacket. Definitely not Westbrook-issue.
"Can I help you, Miss?" There'd been a flurry of new students with the start of the new trimester, and considering he was the boys' PE teacher, learning the girls' names wasn't high on his priority list.
"I believe you can. I'm Diya Behari, and I want to be on your football team."
Armstrong lowered his head to look over the top of his dark glasses at the girl. He was about to ask the slip of a girl if she was serious, but the gleam in her eye and the set of her jaw gave him his answer. "Well, you're a little early. Conditioning starts in August."
“Well, I want to be there when conditioning starts.”
Coach Armstrong eyed the slim girl again, glad the dark sunglasses hid the expression in his eyes. “And what makes you think you should be playing with the big boys on the football field?”
Diya pulled herself up straighter and squared her shoulders. This was her big moment. "I don't know if you're aware, Coach Armstrong, but Title IX requires that equal sports opportunities be afforded to both boys and girls. If a sport doesn't have opportunities for both male and female students, then the opposite gendered student must be allowed a chance to try out, on equal footing, for the other team."
Coach Armstrong nodded firmly. "You've certainly got the basics of Title IX down there, Miss Behari, but you overlooked something: Title IX only applies when the school gets public funding. We're private and, quite frankly, can do whatever we want."
Diya's shoulder's slumped slightly, but the set of her face remained firm. "There may not be any legal recourse, but surely the school would hate the bad PR they'd get if word got out you were employing sexist athletic standards."
Coach Armstrong threw back his head and laughed loudly, causing Diya to lose her calm demeanor and stare wide eyed at the coach. She had prepared herself for a number of reactions, but somehow getting laughed off the field hadn't occurred to her.
After catching his breath quickly, Coach Armstrong said to Diya "Miss Behari, you got spunk. I like that. Now, have you ever actually played football before?"
"Not really. Well, okay, not at all. But I gotta do something around here, and cheering on a bunch of boys isn't gonna cut it."
Coach Armstrong nodded. "Okay, do you know what position you'd like to play?"
Diya nodded eagerly. Ever since she'd come up with the idea of trying out for football she'd been researching the game frantically. She knew she wasn't the first girl to want to play the game with the boys, and found what looked like the perfect position for someone of her stature and skills. "Kicker."
"Oh good, you do know something. I was worried you were gonna want all the glory of the quarterback."
"Well, I wouldn't mind being the quarterback," Diya interjected.
"Let's walk before we run, Miss Behari. There's an equipment bag up at the 50 yard line, why don't you grab a ball from there and we'll see what we're working with."
Diya grinned and sprinted to the equipment bag. She dug inside for a moment before pulling out a grungy football and sprinting back to Coach Armstrong. The coach observed her form as she ran. Definitely an athlete of some kind already. A couple of the new girls had been athletes, he recalled from the batch of new student files he'd seen.
With the ball in hand, Coach Armstrong led Diya to the 20 yard line. Not an easy kick, but far from impossible, and he didn't want the girl to think he was patronizing her. He knelt down and held the ball in position. "Let's see what you can do, shall we?"
Diya took a few steps back. In her mind she replayed the YouTube clips she'd been studying all week. Vinatieri, with his two Super Bowl clenching kicks. Kimrin, in his record-setting kick in Denver. Grostkowski. Carpenter. And this was at a fraction of the lengths they were aiming for! Easy as pie.
She took her running start, swerved in, and kicked!
Her eyes anxiously followed the ball, up and up...and over the crossbars, dead center. A big grin lit up her face as she looked at Coach Armstrong. He was still staring at the field goal when he said gruffly. “Grab the ball, let’s try it again. Make sure it wasn’t a fluke.”
Diya’s grin instantly fell into a frown, but she figured the rules in gymnastics were probably the same in football - if you know what’s good for you, don’t argue with the coach. She sprinted to grab the ball, then ran back to the coach, who’d backed up ten yards.
After a dozen more perfect kicks at various lengths across the field, Armstrong let Diya take a break. “Are you going to let me try out for the team?” Diya demanded, a little tired of being asked to perform like a circus pony.
“Well, Miss Behari, I gotta confess, I may not have been entirely straight with you earlier.”
Diya narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Yeah?”
“There’s another reason Title IX doesn’t apply to us here at Westbrook - our sports teams are all co-ed”
Diya’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”
“And there really isn’t much of a try out process. You sign up, you’re on the team.”
Diya stood up straighter, her eyes alight again with anger. “Then why have you been making me run all over the place?”
“You seemed determined to prove something, I figured I’d let you. Besides, I gotta admit I was curious about what someone who had never played the game before could do.” Coach Armstrong slapped Diya on the shoulder amiably. “Look forward to seeing you in August, Behari. Keep out of trouble until then, okay? I promise, we’re not out to get you.”
Diya grinned. “Got it, Coach.” It sure wasn’t gymnastics, but she was going to be competing again. She liked the sound of that.