Free Redhead Blitz by Janie Mason Page A

realized how much she hated them.   Why hadn’t this problem ever occurred to her before?   She never figured boredom into her mental equations.   She was staring off into space, ready to consider this revelation in more depth, when another roar went up from the crowd.   Her attention flew to the field.
    One of the Lion’s players—she knew diddly about football and couldn’t have said what position he played—was running past a pileup of players and seemed to have a clear path toward the end zone.   Everyone in the home stands was on their feet, cheering for a young man who was probably so focused on sprinting his heart out that he’d tuned out all sound.
    Swept up by the crowd’s enthusiasm, she joined in the cheering.   “Go, go, go!”
    L.R. cupped her hands around her mouth as the boy neared the end zone.   “Run, Mark, run.”
    He was far enough ahead of the pack that the enthusiasm of the fans swelled with each stride.   When he crossed into the end zone, Gigi joined them in screaming her lungs out.   Caught up in the moment, she turned first to L.R. and then to the couple seated behind them, giving each high-fives.
    “What a great way to start the game.   I’m going down to the sideline for a while.”   L.R. shouted to her over the cheering.   “I might or might not make it back up here.   Are you okay?”   At Gigi’s nod, she began picking her way down through the crowded aisles.
    The extra point was good and after more riotous cheering, the crowd settled back to their seats for the kick-off.   Gigi had no trouble spotting the principal’s flowing white skirt as she made her way to the sideline to stand next to one of the EMTs.   An ambulance was parked on the curve of the track, standing by in case of an emergancy .   Gigi scanned the cluster of players.   Even wearing identical uniforms, the boys could be identified by their heights and builds and the way they moved.   Each was unique.   When her gaze settled on Sean, she noted the same could be said about the coaching staff.
    Four adult men walked among the cluster of players, all of them dressed in black shorts and white short-sleeved shirts.   All four wore black ball caps but, she noted, Sean was the only one with a headset.
    He spoke into the microphone as he referred to a clipboard in his hand.   Since she was free to do so without detection, Gigi admired him from a distance.   He stood taller than all but one of his players.   Where the other coaches were either slightly built or pot-bellied, Sean was well-muscled, without an ounce of surplus body fat.   Of course, to prove her assessment true, he’d need to remove all his clothes for a thorough inspection.   Her eyes glazed over, her mind entranced more by the mental image than the football game.   She was well into an erotic fantasy involving Sean and a jar of fudge sauce when angry cries pulled her back to reality.
    “Ah, come on!”   “No way!”   “What, are you blind?”
    She focused on the field.   The opposing team had the ball inside their own ten yard line.   How long had she been in La-la Land?   Unhappy comments continued to buzz around her, but she had no idea what the dispute was about.   Sean had removed the headset and held it in his fist as he paced the sideline, looking none too happy.   The referee set the ball on the nine-yard line, and the growls and grumbles from the home-team fans died down when it was obvious the play was about to start.   A few errant fans called out to the defense, but most of the home crowd was quiet with anticipation.
    Sean stopped pacing when the opposing team broke out of their huddle.   With his feet planted shoulder-width apart, he crossed his arms.   As the play began, he remained frozen.   The visiting team’s quarterback took a few quick steps away from the line of scrimmage, searching for an open teammate.   Shouts from armchair coaches erupted all around Gigi .
    “Look out!”   “Pass!”