When I was in my late teens,
we'd play football on the field in front of the new elementary school.
The softball backstop was in the corner of the field, and we'd use the
edge of the backstop (with an imaginary line across the field) as the
end zone.
One
day, I went out for a pass, and no one hollered as I approached the
backstop. I caught the ball with my right hand and immediately went
WHAM! up against that wire backstop.
Remember, too, that I was approaching 300 pounds, so I packed a wallop against that wire.
I
wound up on my back with the ball in my hand on my chest. Someone
helped me up, and told me I had a chicken-wire pattern on the right side of my face. I hit
that wire really hard, after all, and I reached up and could feel it with my right hand.
But the touchdown counted.
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