Fred Bowen's "The Score" column,
November 24, 2000, Washington Post

Touchdown Glory

When I was about 10 years old, I loved football. But football didn't love me back. The reason was that I was only 65 pounds soaking wet.

I played for a team called the Cowboys. Before our games, I would place my bulky shoulder pads on my thin shoulders and pull my jersey over them. Then I pushed my head into my helmet and suddenly I felt big and tough.

I wore number 19 because my hero, Lance Alworth, wore that number. Lance Alworth was the fleet-footed, rail-thin receiver for the San Diego Chargers. He was so skinny that his nickname was "Bambi"--after the deer with the bony legs in the Disney movie.

But Lance Alworth would score touchdowns by catching passes and dashing past helpless defenders.

And that's exactly what I wanted to do.

But my coach had other plans for me.

Coach Bo Berry was a big-bellied former high school fullback with black hair and a fire-engine red face. He always had a Tipparillo (a thin, plastic-tipped cigar) squinched between his teeth. (Coaches back then weren't careful about not smoking in front of kids!)

Coach Berry put me--all 65 pounds of me--at tight end, where I would try to block kids a lot bigger than me. But most of the time, I would look out for the chance to catch passes.

Then one Saturday morning against the Giants, I saw my chance for touchdown glory.

"When the halfback goes long," I explained to Coach Berry and Cowboys quarterback Peter Harrigan as I drew the play on my palm, "I'll block for a couple of seconds and then run a quick, five-yard pattern toward the sidelines. I'll be wide open."

Coach Berry looked at my palm and took the Tipparillo from his teeth. "Run it," he ordered.

The play worked like a charm. I blocked, ran my pattern, and caught the pass. I was golden. I turned to fly down the field into the end zone. Just like Lance Alworth.

WHAM!

Craig "Fudge" Robinson, a Giants defensive back, buried his helmet into my gut. Where did he come from, I thought as I flew back with the ball tight in my arm. I thumped into the dirt, staring straight up and gasping for air.

The referee called an injury timeout. Coach Berry stood above me, a hint of a smile behind his Tipparillo.

"Great play, Bowen," he said. "You want to run it again?"

"No," I said. The word was barely a whisper.

I had learned a lesson.

Being Lance Alworth is tough.

Especially at 65 pounds.

FRED BOWEN is the author of sports novels for kids. His newest book is "Winner
Takes All." Write to him at KidsPost, 1150 15th St. NW, Washington, DC 20071.
Or e-mail: kidspost@washpost.com.

© 2000 The Washington Post Company