Sports in the Parker - Yes, I'm a girl who plays sport

Pigs can fly!

"How was practise?" my dad asked me as soon as I walked through the door.

"Fine." I snapped and went upstairs to my room.

"Come back down here!" my dad shouted up at me. I put my bags down on the bed and went back downstairs.

"Sit." he said indicating the free chair around the dining table.

"Can I go have a shower first? I just had football practise. I ran a lot. I'm sweaty."

"No. Sit down." I sighed and sat down. It was like this whenever I came home from practice. Always reasons I should quit.

"I want you to quit Football." my dad said.

"No, you know I'm not going to. I might even join basket ball as well." I said.

"You know you can't." my mum said, I hadn't even seen her come in.

"Why not?" I said, suddenly angry.

"Because it would interfere with you etiquette lessons!" my mum replied.

"Well," I said "maybe I'll quit those instead."

"You can't. You need to go to them. I don't want you to become a tomboy." no perish the bloody thought of me becoming a tomboy. I should probably say that out loud.

"No, perish the bloody thought of me becoming a tomboy!" I said.

"WE DO NOT USE THAT TYPE OF LANGUAGE IN THIS HOUSE! GO TO YOUR ROOM!" my dad shouted

"Happily!" I replied and went into my room and got into the shower in my ensuite. Why could my parents not just support me? They supported my brother! He plays football, he's a year younger than me. He's on my team and he's really good. But that's beside the point. I'm the captain if the team! My parents should have realised by now, I'm not going to stop playing football anytime soon. I loved the game. I was like my safe haven. It was a place I could be myself. I couldn't be myself at school because everyone would laugh at me, not because I'm weird. I'm just a funny person. Usually. Popular people aren't funny. Wait, rephrase that, popular girls aren't funny. Yeah, I'm popular. But I can't be myself. I can't be myself at home because people moan at me. Right, take the other day for example. Tottenham Hotspurs were playing Everton and it was on tv. I went to turn it over and mum started having a go at me, telling me that girls don't watch football and I should watch the news or something or better yet, go and learn how to speak properly. Just because I say 'ain't don't mean I don't speak properly. So I change the channel to teleshopping. My brother comes in and starts watch teleshopping, mum doesn't say anything. He changes the channel to football. My mum still doesn't say anything. My brother says the ref can't do his job right. My mum says nothing. I ask him what the score was and mum flips out! She starts saying how I was a girl and should start acting like it and how she was gonna stop me from playing football. All empty threats but it was still out of order. I got out of the shower and dried my hair. My hair was chocolate brown and naturally straight. I left it down and pulled on a black tank top and and black shorts. I grabbed a pair of running trainers and put on a pair of socks. I knocked on my brothers door.

"I'm going jogging. You coming?" I asked. I might have just had a shower but I couldn't standing being with my parents right now. And why sit in my room when I could run? I could have gone out with my 'friends' but in all honesty, I only really liked the boys on my team. The girls on the cheer squad were alright but they didn't really understand my love of football.

"Yeah sure wait a sec." I waited about thirty seconds and my brother walked out of his room, wearing a black top and nike shorts. With a pair of running trainers.

"How far and how fast?" he asked me. We had a code. Usually we ran for a mile at average speed. I would say 1b but if we went for two slow miles I would say 2c and if we went for three fast miles I would say 3a. I know it's a bit sad but we started it when we were like eight. It was like a tradition.

"3c." I replied. I didn't really want to go to run, I just wanted to get out for a while. We left and we had been running for about ten minuets when we started talking.

"You do know mum doesn't actually mind you playing football." Matthew said.

"Yeah she does! Do you not remember the Tottenham versus Everton match? She stopped the girls teams so I couldn't play! She hates the fact that I play football!" I practically shouted. Doesn't mind my ass.

"Yet she let you try out for the boys team and hasn't made coach kick you off."

"Yeah well," I said "it ain't even up to her. You was there when she told dad that she couldn't stop the team because they had an entire team and she couldn't just get coach to kick me off because the governors wouldn't allow it!" what a flipping douche my brother was being. I started to speed up but surprisingly my brother matched my pace.

"But you know as well as I do that's a load of bull." Matthew said "She just said that to get dad off her case."

"Yeah and pigs can fly."

"They might..." I cut him off.

"Yeah and I'm the long lost member of the Beatles." then I started running really fast and my brother couldn't keep up. Once I had well and truly lost him I stopped and got my phone out of my pocket. I had three text messages.

One was from dad which I deleted straight away. One was from Mum reminding me that dinner was at half past six. The final one was from Luke. He said that we had six o'clock practise tomorrow morning as well as after school. He said that it wasn't really practise, more like 'get to know the new coach and make sure he's not an ass hole'. By that he meant, make sure Kelly doesn't get too pissed off at him. We had a substitute coach once and he was a complete ass. He kept dropping snide sexist hints and I lost it. I went over there and punched him and was about to break his nose when the entire a team had to come and hold me back. I ended up running laps until the end of practise and he never came back to our school again. But if I did that to the new coach... Well, I'd be screwed. He could kick me off the team so I couldn't lose my head. You never know, he could actually end up being alright but I seriously doubted it. I had yet to meet one coach, other than coach peters, that wasn't sexist. But only time will tell.