Prologue:

It was the summer of 1971. Most Americans were against the war in Vietnam, Led Zeppelin was releasing a fourth album and Jim Morrison had been found dead in Paris. Above all things happening in the country, before mini-skirts and The Partridge Family, The Brady Bunch and knee socks, the turmoil in Alexandria was of the greatest importance. The school board was forcing an integration for the following Fall, the same year my family chose to move to the small town in Virginia, the same year a young black man was killed by a white store owner. I hailed from New Jersey, a state that seemed worlds away and one where race was not as fixated on. There is prejudice everywhere, but I had never seen any as vocalized as I did upon our move to Alexandria. I had never actually seen a protest outside of the news, but that changed just a few days after arriving in the small town.

We were white. I'd never had any issues because of my skin. I saw the struggles, I could sympathize and try to understand but I would never pretend to know what it felt like to be judged because of my race. I grew up Irish in an Italian neighborhood but that was nothing but innocent ribbing between friends, especially compared to this. People stared at me from time to time, I dressed more relaxed and "hippie" than most, especially in Alexandria. I had long, flowing red hair that I parted down the center with a bit of bangs and layers to keep it from my face, corkscrewing into ringlet curls at the very ends that I always wore down unless I was playing or training. I had my father's gray-green eyes and my mother's rosy cheeks and perfect lips, all set in a warm, friendly oval face. I dressed simply, skirts and dresses were reserved for church on Sundays and most school days but I was very fond of jeans and slacks. I still am.

I played soccer for six years, I danced ballet for eight and I was fortunate enough not to move around too much before now. My father was in the Marines during the Korean War, remaining in the service reporting in at Fort Dix doing whatever it was he did, and both of my older brothers were serving or had served in Vietnam. My mother, though supportive of my athletic and academic endeavors, worried more for me than I thought necessary as I, the youngest of her children, had yet to fly the coop. In this dynamic I was raised to judge a man, not by the color of his skin, but by the caliber of his character. This was something I quickly learned was not practiced by most in Alexandria.

The integration of the schools was announced a week or so after our move and I was excited for the prospect of diverse friendships and for the opportunity to play ball. Upon our move, I realized that there was no soccer team, let alone a women's team but I had quickly resolved to play the sport I so often played with my brothers and cousins at family cook outs. A sport I loved and could provide a valued skill to, football. Yes, football. I immediately checked Virginia state regulations for the rules regarding females in male sports and according to regulation; "if a women's team does not exist, the intermingling of the sexes is allowed to ensure equal play opportunities to both parties." I was left to assume that it came down to the coach for a final decision; whether or not I was up to snuff.

Part of me was nervous to go out for the high school football team, with all of the integration business I knew that the furthest thing from anyone's mind was going to be a girl playing football. Then there was the other part of me, the part that knew this would be an amazing opportunity and that I was capable of making the team. I was tiny, very tiny especially in comparison to most football players. I stood at 5'3" and couldn't have weighed more than a buck-oh-five. I knew I would be underestimated because of my size, because of my gender and, by some in Alexandria, my skin, but I was determined– resolved to prove myself and not only show that gender didn't matter, but that race didn't either.