Johnny's been a good sport to let me blog here this month. Since this is the last day of March, I thought I'd depart with one more memory.
I wanted to join the boys' soccer team in Middle School. Not that they had a problema recruiting boys for the team, as happens in some school districts. And it wasn't because there wasn't a girls' team - there was, and they were pretty good. But growing up with three brothers, I needed more competition. A challenge.
So my brother Antonio took me to the boys' field to introduce me to the coach. I politely asked to join the team, bouncing a ball knee to knee to show him what I could do. But the man spat out his whistle and laughed at me. "The cheerleaders are over there," he said, pointing behind me and widening his stance.
It sure looked like a goal to me.
So I drop-kicked the ball hard right between his goalposts, so to speak.
I was suspended for three days.
Ay, my Mami had the fire of an amazona in her eyes when I got home.
"Y que te ha entrado a ti? El que diran?" she scolded while stirring habichuelas on the stove. "What has gotten into you? What will they say?"
"They'll say I should have been allowed to try out," I said, displaying the unbecoming gringita
habit of speaking my mind.
So I was sent to bed without supper as well.
This is one of the 'rules' of growing up Latina: do not forget a woman's place. I keep forgetting this rule.
That's it. I'll "see" you again when you read Johnny's book VIPER coming around Christmas. For now, adios.