Once upon a time, in an old mill village that they called "Cedarvale" the kids started playing a little bit rougher. Boys will be boys, but for these boys football, baseball, and hide-and-go-seek in the dark was not enough.
Justin's back yard was perfect for baseball. This commitment of a great baseball field was there, trimmed trees to avoid interference, permanent bases in the ground, ivy grown up the outfield fence. But after a while baseball was not enough.
Stephen's yard was a typical backyard football field. Rough grass between the hashes. The twenty-something yard gap with no boundary, the flowerbed on the south end and the swing post on the north end. The games were filled with hard hitting, deep passes, and trick plays.
Then one guy in the neighborhood caught wind from a friend a few neighborhoods down of a new game. Oklahoma. The roughest toughest team in the country. It was a 10 yard by 10 yard square in which you played football in. 3 on 3, no passing, no fancy moves, just running down the middle head busting plays.
That was it and for a group of blood thirsty 12 year olds it was heaven. A man's game. Every day that summer the guy's of cedarvale would split forehead and black eyes on the new gridiron. That game definitely but the hair on the chest of those boys. By the end of the summer every guy had his share of black eyes or sand dollar welts on the arms. Even a few walked off that field with a broken bone.
