Reverend Jerry Falwell28 : “God is‘ not pleased.”
Kate Millet29 : “Not true; She is delighted.”
Muhammad Ali30 : “Let ’em play ball/The ladies so sweet/But they get in the ring/I knock ’em off their feet!”
Warren Beatty31 : “The truth is, I never made it with a quarterback.”
Elizabeth Holtzman32 : “I support Terry Niemath’s right to play football without reservation.”
Phyllis Schafly33 : “It is an appalling example to women everywhere.”
Mayor Ed Koch34 of the City of New York: “Which way did you say the wind was blowing?”
Jane Fonda35 : “We’re negotiating for the rights to Terry Niemath’s life story. If we get them, I of course will play Terry, with Jim Plunkett36 standing in for me in the gridiron scenes. Terry Bradshaw37 will play himself, and Coach Newtrokni will be portrayed by Lily Tomlin38 .”
Governor Hugh Carey39 of New York: “There will be no trade-in of Westway funds to purchase Terry Niemath for the New York Jets.”
Jimmy Breslin40 : “Not much support for Society Carey’s position in the ginmills of Queens.”
Senator Edward Kennedy41 of Massachusetts: “As to the question of her right to play against them, the Patriots will simply have to cross that bridge when they come to it.”
Governor Jerry Brown42 of California: “Don't bother me; I’m meditating.”
Norman Mailer43 : “I’m thinking about doing a book on Terry Niemath just as soon as she kicks off.”
Christie Hefner44 : “We’re negotiating with the Stonewalls for our next center spread.”
Professor William Shockley45 , controversial genetics planner: “We have not yet decided if Terry Niemath should be granted access to our superior sperm bank.”
Rock superstar Mick Jagger46 : “A chick quarterback’s cool, man. What’s she on?”
Abbie Hoffman47 : “Terry Niemath is a CIA android.”
Gore Vidal48 : “The whole issue is a tempest in a chamberpot.”
Former Editor of The Realist, Paul Krassner49 : “He means a shitpot!”
There were also reactions from abroad:
Pope John Paul II: “Holy Mother Church takes no position on women in American professional football as long as they do not use birth control.”
Ayatollah Khomeini50 : “In Iran we would cut off her breasts for playing without a face veil.”
British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher51 : “It simply is not done in England.” ,
Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin: “Niemath? Is that a Jewish name?”
Soviet Premier Leonid Brezhnev: “The Russian government categorically denies that four female fullbacks have attempted to defect to the Houston Oilers.”
The day after the Soviet Premier’s statement, I came across an interview in the Los Angeles Times with the Secretary of the Baroquian Club. “While the Baroquians have no official connection with the Whittier Stonewalls,” he told the interviewer, “it is true that some of our most prestigious members have both a financial and sentimental interest in the team and that these gentlemen have endorsed the signing of Ms. Terry Niemath as quarterback, a decision which obviously played a major role in last Sunday’s victory over Pittsburgh.”
In response to the interviewer’s suggestion that there might be an inconsistency in the Baroquian Club’s anti-female membership and hiring policies vis-a-vis the endorsing of a female quarterback, the Secretary had this to say: “No inconsistency at all. One thing has nothing to do with the other. We believe firmly that women have the right to participate in professional sports in accordance with their abilities. We also believe that we have the right of free association as a club and the right to limit that association as we see fit. Now, we see fit to limit it in such a way as not to inhibit our members in those theatrical activities which give them so much pleasure. Surely, you must see that nothing would be so inhibiting as to be gawked at by the very gender we have chosen to poke good-natured fun at. But—and this is important—we are not rigid. Not only have some of us used our considerable influence to inject a woman into professional football but, also, I personally am on a committee which is dickering with a young lady to pop naked out of a cake at our next Baroquian Club anniversary dinner, as a compromise of our tradition barring women employees on the premises. Now, I ask you, what could be more reasonable that that?”
Public debate continued right up until the following Sunday, when Terry Niemath played in her second game for Whittier, against the Denver Broncos. Over fifty-one thousand people filled Mile High Stadium to capacity. Whatever else one might say about a female pro football quarterback, the front office boys couldn’t miss the fact that she was big box office.
Despite the victory over Pittsburgh, the Stonewalls went into the Denver game thirteen-point underdogs. The weather forecast was bright and sunny, and the smart money said that the Steelers had fallen victim to the mud, and that the Whittier victory over them had been a fluke. Denver was a well-oiled machine which always worked best under solar power. The bright light of the sun was expected» to decimate the Stonewalls and to melt away whatever dazzle their lady quarterback might have used to bewitch the Steelers.
Imagine the wise guys’ chagrin when Terry turned out to be a Bronco-buster par excellence. She dug in, her spurs, twisted their tails, and left them braying for mercy with four—count ’em, four!—touchdown passes that inspired the Whittier defense to dig in its heels and hold Denver down to a three-TD response. The final score was Whittier twenty-seven, Denver twenty-four, and just about every sports columnist around was wiping egg off his face.
“Congratulations,” I told Terry sincerely when she returned to the Denver hotel room we were sharing after the game. “You looked great out there today.”
“Y’all look again. I’m even greater right here in the privacy of our little ol’ home away from home,” she answered, shedding her clothes as she came across the rug towards me.
It had been like that all week. Since I’d moved in with Terry to protect the rest of the team from her advances, I’d been the focal point of her libido. It hadn’t been easy holding her off. As Terry kept reminding me, it wasn’t as if we hadn’t made it together before. “Sex is a right friendly act,” she kept reminding me. “Aren’t we still friends?”
“Sure,” I would answer. “But friendship is a delicate balance. We don’t want to screw it up with sex.
The answer was incomprehensible to Terry. Truthfully, it was more than a little lacking in logic to me as well. As she upped her campaign with more aphrodisiac perfumes, flimsier nightgowns and more pronounced wrigglings, heavings and undulations, I was hard-pressed to justify to myself not making love to her.
The original problem had been that if she made it with various members of the team, it would cause dissension among them. Above all, Coach Newtrokni didn’t want that. But I wasn’t on the team. And, in point of fact, most of the guys took it for granted that I was making it with Terry, since we were rooming together. Nuke Outlaw, in particular, glowered at me whenever our paths crossed like Godzilla deprived of his mate.
Why, then, was I withholding my favors? I suppose, because I like to think of myself as a professional in my chosen field. A professional does not become involved on a personal level. Such involvement invariably undermines effectiveness. If I was going to ride herd on Terry, then I had to maintain some distance between us no matter what had transpired previously; thus, frustration was a matter of honor, and blue balls the badge of my status.