"Robert Reed - Game of the Century" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

up to her and asking where she was going to college.

"State," she would reply. Flat out.

"In what sport?" some inquired. While others, knowing that she played the game
on occasion, would guess, "Are you joining the volleyball team?"

"No," Theresa would tell the latter group. Never patient, but usually polite. "I
hate volleyball," she would explain, not wanting to be confused for one of those
glandular, ritualistic gifts. And she always told everyone, friends and
strangers alike, "I'm going to play quarterback for the football team. For Coach
Rickover."

Knowledgeable people were surprised, and puzzled. Some would clear their throats
and look up into Theresa's golden eyes, commenting in an offhand way, "But
Rickover doesn't let women play.

"That was a problem, sure.

Daddy was a proud alumnus of State and a letterman on the famous '33 squad. When
Theresa was born, there was no question about where she was going. In '41,
Rickover was only an assistant coach. Penises weren't required equipment. The
venerable Coach Mannstein had shuffled into her nursery and made his best offer,
then shuffled back out to meet with press and boosters, promising the world that
he would still be coaching when that delightfully young lady was calling plays
for the best team to ever take any field of play.

But six years later, while enjoying the company of a mostly willing cheerleader,
Coach Mannstein felt a searing pain in his head, lost all feeling in his ample
body, and died.

Rickover inherited the program.

A religious man driven by a quixotic understanding of the Bible, one of his
first official acts was to send a letter to Theresa's parents, explaining at
length why he couldn't allow their daughter to join his team. "Football," he
wrote, "is nothing but ritualized warfare, and women don't belong in the
trenches. I am sorry. On the other hand, Coach Terry is a personal friend, and I
would be more than happy to have him introduce you to our nationally ranked
women's volleyball program.

"Thank you sincerely."

"Coach."

The refusal was a crushing blow for Daddy.
For Theresa, it was a ghostly abstraction that she couldn't connect with those
things that she truly knew and understood.

Not that she was a stupid child. Unlike many of her 1-1-2041 peers, her grades