TOUCH FOOTBALL

The kids on my street (West Fifth St.) loved to play sports. One of the games we played often was touch football. Since there wasn’t sufficient room on our street we would traipse up Old Harbor St. to Telegraph Hill where acres were available. The two oldest boys would alternately choose sides by picking us from a lineup. Since I was the youngest and the shortest I was never actually picked. As the last one standing I would join one team or the other by default. The football was never thrown my way for fear of an easy interception. One game the score was tied and it was getting late so that there was only play left. In the huddle the quarterback had a plan. The receivers were to go wide right and left and I was to go straight ahead to the goal line. He knew that no one ever covered me so that I would be wide open. Now I should tell you that the quarterback was the Tom Brady of his day. He threw spirals hard, fast and true. So off to the line we went. Everything went according to plan. I stood at the goal line and spotted the football spiraling at me at what seemed  100 miles per hour.” Please God…please don’t let me drop it…they will never throw the football my way again if I do” It hit me in my stomach and it hurt. I didn’t care. I held on to it and we won. A memory from Telegraph Hill in the shadow of the Dorchester Height’s Monument that I still cherish today.