Pee-wee

Watching a father and son throw a six inch oblong ball back and forth in the park as the sun went down last night reminded me how much fun I had playing pee-wee football as a boy. A pee-wee game was the commonest game of all when I was in elementary school. The teachers would not let us take sticks into the field so we could not play hockey and fucking kill each other like we really wanted to.

Some of the boys could really chuck a fucking pee-wee. I was not one of them. I could never throw worth a two-bit fuck.

I was one of the boys running downfield hoping the quarterback would wing a ball my way. I was often all alone in the endzone. I dreamed I was Dirty 30 Jim Young yelling at Paul Brothers. "Throw it you motherfucker! Throw me the motherfucking ball!"

Back in the huddle of our team of two dozen I would tell the quarterback, "They aren't covering me worth shit. This time I'll be in the coffin corner." On the next play I would be wide open again. Sometimes when a ball came my way I would even catch it. If someone got near me whether I had the ball or not I would elbow them in the head like Gordie Howe. No one fucked with Dirty 30 or Gordie Howe without paying a price they could not afford. All sports got turned into hockey on my elementary school playing field. Hockey with Stevie Wonder as the referee.

The field was covered in all kinds of strange weeds and grasses, big rocks, broken concrete, tree branches, broken glass, fresh blood and missing limbs. Not like the manicured needle strewn fields kids play on today. Pee-wee football was a violent game. I loved it.