The ball had bounced crazily along the ground

and I followed, just as crazily, after it. I picked it up and saw Debbie about 20 yards away. Gripping the ball as carefully as I could (my hands were small and I've been told, sarcastically, "dainty"), I threw the ball toward Debbie.

"Toward" is the best that one could say for it. Wobbling miserably and slightly away from Debbie, the ball fell 5 yards short of the target.

Debbie picked up the ball and held it for an in- stant. She then put her hands on her hips and said, Can't you throw any better than that?.. My gosh, you throw like a girl!" Her voice indicated that such an indictment was just about the worst thing possible.

I laughed embarrassingly and said, "Oh sure, the ball just slipped." I was only condemning myself to worse things. "Throw it to me, I called.

Debbie did and again the ball practically knocked me off my feet, and again it fell to the ground. Quickly I went after it and in doing so managed to fall over my own feet, falling flat on my face. Deb- bie called out, "Nice tackle" and turned away. I stumbled to my feet and retrieved the ball.

Debbie was now about 15 yards away and she in- structed me to throw to her as she moved to her right. She started off and I pulled my arm straight back. I thrust my arm forward and, in doing so, brushed my head with my arm. The ball again went sickly for- ward, awkwardly and far off the target.

Debbie assured me, "Honestly Merrill, 75% of the girls in my sorority can throw better than that. And the other 25% throw just as well as you!" She paused and, as if to extend another chance, asked if I could kick. I quickly said I could. What else could I say? But proving it was another thing.

She came

over and handed me the ball. She laughed that she didn't want to see me tackle myself again.

24.