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Gladiator
Rebecca Trimpe

The first time he caught the ball, he was playing in the neighbor’s 
front yard. Got taken out by a pissed-off bigger kid who thought he saw 
an easy interception. Who gets beat by a 6-year-old? Tackle. Left elbow 
smashed to the concrete. Says he’s fine. Wants to go in, stretch out on the 
couch. Johnny Bravo’s on. At the ER: Broken. Dislocated. Surgery around 
2 a.m. Drunk guys in knife fights go first. Pins. Four months in a cast 
which has to be changed once because he’s growing like a weed. Scar looks 
like a train track. Arm won’t straighten out completely for months. Still 
wants to play. Can I sign up for PAL football? They don’t have it in our 
neighborhood, we’d have to move, and we ain’t doin’ that, baby doll. Uncle 
played for the Packers for like six minutes in the ‘80s. Tells him he’s not 
big enough. Says he should wait ‘til high school. Kid listens. Mom thinks 
they’re safe. The high school he’ll go to doesn’t have football. Until it does. 
Dammit. Kid she used to work with said his old lady bought him a silver 
trumpet and stuck him in the high school band to keep him off the team. 
She doesn’t want to be that mom. Defense coach first year: Can’t you hang 
some more meat on that boy? As a freshperson, he’s five-foot nothin’ and 
weighs less than the family Newfoundland. The second time he caught the 
ball, he was wearing the yellow cleats his mom bought so she could find 
him in the scrum. Five-nine and a buck-ninety as a senior, if you believe 
the program. Built for speed. Those thighs are original equipment but the 
shoulders and the biceps are not. Lived in the gym at school, and in the 
basement at home where they put the weight machine. He switched sides. 
Middle linebacker. Knew what the quarterback was going to do before 
the poor kid got up that morning. Didn’t want the ball. Claimed he didn’t 
know what to do with it. Just wanted to take out the kid who had it. Then 
he had it. No concrete around this time. He crossed the white line.