Watch Me Callie Adam

I'm sure I have the visiting team's attention by the time I finish my first lap around the soccer field. Standing in a circle, contemplating my presence, they venture guesses quietly, "Cross country? Lost? Girl's soccer?" Finishing my second lap, I can always feel them looking at me, trying to put the pieces together. I am running the laps by myself because today, like many other days, I have missed my team's warm-up when classes at school ran into practice. Although it is amusing to hear the other team's bewilderment, by the end of my warm-up I welcome the security of a group. The boys, discussing whatever had happened in school, include me with friendly greetings. I join 'my' team with a feeling of satisfaction; glancing at the visitors, I think, 'Let them ponder that for a while.'

Now the other team stands, and stares across the field trying not to look too obvious. Their coach barks, "Concentrate! Move! What are you looking at?" But chances are he knew long before he even got to the game. "It's just a girl," he says.

I knew it was risky accepting the opportunity to play with a boys' team. It is something that could have had resonating effects on me,...