For months now, I’ve been wanting to teach the neighbor-girls across the street how to throw a football, like my dad taught me. They’re always hanging out on the porch inventing games, waving to me out of boredom, friendliness and mischief as I walk to my car. I even got a junior-size ball so they could hold it easier, but the very same day I bought it, it wound up waylaid at a friend’s BBQ birthday party. (Hard to resist a game of catch, you know?) Finally recovered this week, the mini pigskin enjoyed its debut on the block.
Once I showed the girls how to arrange their fingers on the laces, it only took about three tries before one of them (maybe 8 or 9 years old) could throw a solid spiral. The older one (12 or so) didn’t throw so hot but could catch just about anything she touched. The youngest (7?), too shy to try, sat on the roof of the blue car, playing music she downloaded to her smartphone. (!!!). We all sang along to Alicia Keys and Nicki Minaj.
Kloncke 