Every team has a home bench. Whether it sits inside of a million dollar facility, a dingy high school fieldhouse, or beside a snow-glazed Alaskan pond, home is where the starting line-up is. We all love to perform in our own house. The crowd is (normally) friendly, the view familiar, and the potholes and loose planks are our secret allies.
But what about away games? Is a victory on foreign soil less filling, less palatable? How hard is it to raise your arms in accomplishment when you’re worried about what will be thrown at you?
Unfamiliar ground can feel terribly parched and rocky, even when the field is two blocks from home. The same can be said for the Punishers and I, as we shed the shoulder pads for the Lynn Lewis Foundation‘s flag football tournament this past weekend. Benefiting breast cancer research and family aid, the Lynn Lewis Foundation has been coordinating contact flag football tourneys for 4 years.
Not every match was a friendly one.
Yes, I said contact. Now, in my 8 years of tackle football experience, and several more years of flag football involvement, I’ve become accustomed to one of two possibilities. You hit, or you don’t hit. There’s never been a middle ground. Contact flag is just that: somewhere in between the bone-crunching violence of our favorite past-time and the ever-restrictive touchlessness of flag rules.
With my black and white football thinking, I had a hard time hitting without wrapping up, evading without stiff-arming, and blocking without cut-blocking. Needless to say, I secured my fair share of penalties. Without so much as an hour of practice or one flag-specific drawn play, we were grossly unprepared for the assault that was to come. New York, DC, Atlanta, and Pittsburgh were all present, and boasting lineups of professional flag and tackle talent, including gold medalists both from my Team USA roster, and the USA Flag team. Many of the programs have been participating in National and World Championships for 10+ years.
The Lynn Lewis tourney was an exceptional recruiting endeavor.
Everyone played a minimum of 5 games throughout Saturday and Sunday morning, and more importantly, everyone was secured a place at the Pink Party, which took place at Club Safari. I don’t think my feet have ever felt so relieved to be in heels as they were that day, as my cleats betrayed me in every way imaginable. The truly remarkable aspect of contact flag was the toll it was taking on people. Every few minutes it seemed there was another body down on a field, and the hour-long games didn’t seem to ever complete without at least two players being dragged to the sideline. We suffered several casualties: one Punisher played through her games unaware of her three broken ribs and punctured lung, and another was hauled off via ambulance to the hospital for a knee injury (we’re still awaiting the results). I managed to escape with a hateful, quarter-sized blister, a shinner, and some pulled muscles and bruises. Our coach was so alarmed by the walking wounded that he’s considering issuing a fatwa that would cease the existence of all Punisher “extracurricular” sports endeavors.
Though I didn't miss getting hit, I sure missed defending myself!
Even though the event was in our backyard (Palm Beach Gardens), it felt like we were miles away from our comfort zone. We, tackle football die-hards, were visitors to contact flag football’s isolated stadium. The Women’s American Flag Football Federation, the governing body of women’s 8-on-8 contact flag competition in the USA, houses hundreds of teams and leagues throughout the country. Though less systematized than women’s tackle (specific scheduling, playoffs), contact flag is a healthy and functioning body of the women’s football world. The International Women’s Flag Football Association, which sponsors play throughout 9 different countries, hosts a series of tournaments and has been around since 1997. My complete naivete of contact flag’s intricate existence is proof that underground tunnels (like women’s tackle football) are not always connected.
It was eye-opening to spend time in another budding sport’s home, and we certainly resembled the battered away bench in comparison to the well-trained and adept “home” teams. But despite our own casualties, we were saving lives. When one participates in events like these, it’s really symbolic of what we–despite our team colors and home stadiums–are willing to do for one another. Outside the pylons, it’s all about people helping people, forging hope, and making the world a little less bleak. The view from the visitor’s bench is different, but at the buzzer’s sound, we all got to be part of the same great game.
Mission 2012 begins!
awesome sally