| The Gridiron Girls.
A new definition for tight end.
All the ammo is there for non-stop sexual innuendo. But take to the practice field of the Calgary Rockies women’s contact football team and thoughts of genteel femininity disappear in an instant.
These ladies play for real – and given time, maybe for money, too.
"This is an experimental year," says coach Ray Watrin. "I’m just checking out the talent base in Calgary. I have an idea of the calibre we need."
The former CFL player and longtime football coach says he has seen videotapes of the women’s professional league south of the 49th, on which he has based his evaluation. And so far, with over 40 women having contacted him and 25 or more turning out to practice on any given night, Watrin likes what he sees.
"They’re very receptive to the game," he says. "The neat thing about the ladies (is that) most of (them) coming to practice don’t have any bad habits. It’s quite easy to teach them proper technique."
He explains that except for the odd high school player, most females haven’t had any opportunity to play tackle football – which, from a coach’s point of view, also means they haven’t learned any bad habits.
"If we can improve and be fundamentally sound, we can do a lot of things offensively and defensively," the former Stampeder says.
As the Rockies hope to square off against competition from the U.S., they will be playing under American rules. The closest teams are in Boise, Idaho and Tacoma, Washington.
The Rockies practice Wednesday and Sunday evenings at the Killarney field and hope to have some inter-squad games later this year.
Watrin says he welcomes all women with an interest in the game, especially those with a sporting background. Most of those on the Rockies roster are in their 20s to 40s. But age isn’t always a factor.
"I heard there was a 70-year-old lady on one of the teams in the States," Watrin says. "She’s the punter and the safety."
STRANGELY TRUE
Here’s one from the too-strange-to-not-be-true file:
I never thought it would happen to me until I visited a small, southwestern creek on Canada Day. Two buddies and I were on the prowl, ready to bed anything that came our way.
The day started slowly with only slight and sporadic signs of interest. After trying a few different spots and techniques, we finally found some action. With the sun nearing the horizon and a cool but slight breeze blowing, those we had been looking for were finally taking our lines with serious interest. For several minutes I patiently worked an area where I knew I had to get lucky, and then she struck.
She grabbed my offering and pulled with all the power her sleek but muscular body could muster. The initial adrenaline rush barely had time to kick in before things between us were broken off. Another case of premature anticipation.
My face turned red with embarrassment. Will I never tie the knot?
Of course, my buddies – both within 10 metres of me – were getting along just fine. They had no problem attracting and landing their prizes.
Thankfully, 30 minutes later, my luck turned. I stayed in the same spot, hoping that if I had a bite once, it might happen again. And there she was. This time she took my offering for good – the few minutes it took to pull her close seemed like hours, but they were worth every second.
Her mouth held an extra special treasure, which made our first touch euphoria. I screamed with delight. There, in the jaw of this pink-bellied, spotted fish, was my current hook and my yellow humpy – the same fly that was lost to a poor knot less than an hour ago. |
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