Fiction
Date Published: July 2019
Publisher: BookBaby
Have you ever wanted to do something that everyone said was impossible? Then you’ll love BLACK & BLUE. Loosely based on the author’s own life, this coming-of-age novel will inspire you to pursue your dreams.
For as long as she can remember, “Toady” wanted nothing more than to play football. But for Toady, the love of football is bittersweet – because Toady’s given name is Christine. She’s a girl, and girls “can’t” play football. Despite her exceptional abilities, she watches bitterly as the boys play on the high school team and win scholarships. Reluctantly, she gives up her football dreams and moves to New York City – where she finds that life is full of surprises. Christine hears about a group of women playing flag football, and she joins their game. The players are so good that before long, they’re invited to become part of a professional women’s tackle league.
For Christine, this is the chance she’s always dreamed of. Not only does she play football, but she raises enough money to become the team’s owner. But that’s when the real challenges begin. Does Christine have the guts and the stamina to spite the odds? BLACK & BLUE will leave readers cheering as Christine doubles down to fight for her dreams and for the women who want nothing more than to play their favorite sport. If you loved Bend It Like Beckham or A League of Their Own, you’ll adore BLACK & BLUE.
Excerpt
I am last to be chosen. I am hurt. I am frustrated. I am a girl.
By Andra Douglas
I am nine years old. I am slight in appearance, but strong. I am tall and quick. My hands are good for catching. I have a good arm for passing. I know the game of football. I am standing in a group of neighborhood boys watching carefully as sides are chosen. e number seven on the front of my orange and aqua Miami Dolphin jersey is palpitating as my heart grows heavier, angrier while captains keep choosing and choices of players become few. I stand tall, accentuating my height. Taller than the others. I, wearing matching orange and aqua sneakers, become impatient and take a step forward, ring a pleading glance at the captain whose turn it is to choose. He looks past me and calls Pete Ahrens instead. Pete is a short, timid boy of scapegoat nature. I am last to be chosen. I am hurt. I am frustrated. I am a girl.
I am not new in the neighborhood. Nor am I new to admit my interests. I do not like lace. I hate cooking. I am too young to wear a bra and burn it, so I take Betsy Wetsy and set re to her diapers. I think girls are stupid much like all the boys in the neighborhood do. I show signs of domesticity in much the same manner as my pet squirrel, who imbedded her long, yellow teeth clean through my mother’s middle finger one morning, and bid a fast adieu while running towards the terra firma of the great outdoors.
I am not perky. Or loud. My father says I am “bullheaded.” I am. My views, though seldom verbally expressed, are communicated through other means. I usually get my way because I can badger with amazing results. My grandmother says it’s like being “nibbled to death by a duck.” Usually, I am pestering her or my mother for things like Matchbox cars or G.I. Joe’s. Or art supplies. I like to draw and paint and have won first prize at the Pendle County Fair for the last four years in a row. Today, however, after my grandmother has heard “for the last time, child!” the plea for a football of my own, she grabs my arm, takes her car keys off the kitchen table and pulls me out to her silver Cadillac to take me to the Western Auto. This car is the size of Rhode Island. It could hold every kid in the neighborhood, but we are all too embarrassed to ride in it. It is so big and so silver. Its two ns sloping up on each side of the trunk take up way too much space when they come slicing through the hot, gray asphalt of Fi h Avenue like a pair of mutant sharks. I am mortified now as we shimmer through town taking up the entire width of the avenue. Slunk down low in the seat, I am eager to dash from the Cadillac into the store as soon as we angle park right in front.
The Western Auto is run by Mr. Timmons. He has two daughters — one in each of my sister’s grades–six and eight years ahead of me. I have been in the store a lot lately. I stop in on my bike after school and pick up each football separately and have made a decision on just the right one. Somehow, it just feels better than the others. I run to it now—I have it hidden behind the basketballs—and fly up to the counter with it. My grandmother is just getting inside the store.
“Hello Bob,” she says.
About the Author
ANDRA DOUGLAS is a native of central Florida and a graduate of Florida State University and Pratt Institute. A national champion athlete in rugby and women's tackle football, she was the owner of the New York Sharks Women's Pro Football team for nineteen years and is the founder of the Fins Up! Foundation for Female Athletes, a non-profit to benefit at-risk teens. In addition to her love of football, Andra is a professional artist and served as a Vice President/Creative Director at Time Warner for many years. Today, she lives with her parrot, 'Pie' in New York’s Greenwich Village where she creates mixed-media artwork. To learn more, visit: www.andradouglasart.com.
Contact Links
Purchase Link
thanks for hosting
ReplyDelete