At Washington Junior High we played a playground game in which a group of us daily split up into two teams, flattened an empty pop can (soda can to those of you on the eastern seaboard and abroad, “Coke” can to those of you west of the Mississippi…even though it was usually a Pepsi can) and kicked it back and forth trying to get the can to hit the opposing team’s wall. The game was called, quite imaginatively, “Kick the Can.” It was a game I thought we kids had invented, but when I began to describe the game to my father, who had also attended Washington, he said he knew all about it, and that HE invented it. Yeah, right, Dad.
Someone would procure a can, usually from home, as the school then didn’t allow children access to vending machines, and would step on the middle of the can and then fold the ends over and flatten it further. It was necessary to do it right, as a properly flattened can, when kicked just right, would spin like a frisbee and become airborne and, potentially, score on a team’s wall above anybody’s reach to block it. My game was back in the waning days of the heavier cans made entirely of tin; they flew better and lasted longer. It was truly an art form, as some kids were much better at shaping and smoothing a can than others.
Of course, looking back on it, Kick the Can was a pretty dangerous game, not to mention brutal. Girls didn’t play. They were welcome to play – everyone was welcome to play – but after one or two minutes they realized that we boys were just stupid.
The game was very simple: the court lay east-west (see photo). Either team had to kick the flattened can to the other team’s wall for one point. It was forbidden for a player to pick up the can in his or her hands during play, except after scoring a point, when someone from either team could carry the can to the middle of the “court” to have the face-off and begin play to the next score.
To block the can with any part of the body was allowed, but to catch the can was forbidden.
Common techniques during play were:
-The Capture – a player would step on the can to control it and keep it away from opposing players. This technique was effective for finding teammates to pass the can to them. The drawback to the capture was the opponents surrounding the player, placing their hands on his shoulders and kicking at his foot, ankles and shins in an effort to dislodge the can from beneath his foot…or his foot from his leg.
-The Slide – a player, having captured the can, slides the can beneath his foot to perform a rearward pass. This technique was effective for faking out opponents and sending the can quickly across the court without having to lift the foot off of the can to kick it – which could afford opponents the opportunity to kick it away – and, if lucky, nailing the nearest opponent behind him in the berries.
-The Sail Kick – a player would kick the can, contacting the edge of the can nearest his body with his foot, which would lift the front edge of the can as it gained momentum, causing it to become airborne. An agile, experienced player could apply some English to the can and cause it to spin rapidly as it sailed, which greatly enhanced accuracy, as well as improving the odds for serious bodily injury to anyone attempting to block the shot.
-The Ground Kick – a player kicked the can, contacting the middle of the can with his foot, keeping the surface of the can flat to the ground, causing it to skitter across the court. This kick was the easiest to block and intercept.
There was only one recess period at Washington, and that was after lunch. The lunch period was 45 minutes, and the die-hards among us saw lunch as an obstacle between us and Kick the Can. The number one fastest eater of lunch, and I mean the whole lunch, was always my best friend, Lu, at an average time of five minutes. The second fastest was usually me, usually around five and a half minutes. I still remember chugging my chocolate milk from the little half-pint cardboard carton every day while speed-walking from the table to the garbage can to the dirty tray stack, and then dumping my emptied carton into the last garbage can before the door to the playground. How I never threw up on the Kick the Can court, I’ll never know.
As one might imagine, you had to be a pretty tough, hardy kid to play this game well. I could withstand only a moderate beating about the ankles before I coughed up the can, and I always managed to pass to the wrong players.
Lu was one of the best Kick the Can players. He was always a short, chubby kid with a bilateral lisp. To this day, he’s short and chubby, and he still talks funny. I wouldn’t have guessed it, but being a short, chubby Mexican kid with a sideways lisp must make one tough, because Lu was always a tenacious guard dog type of kid. If he was your friend and someone was threatening you, Lu had your back. Actually, he had your front, because he didn’t let anybody mess with his friends.
On the Kick the Can court he was The Intimidator. One of the top scorers, he was the most accurate passer and he was unflappable when he captured the can. I think Bigfoot himself, wearing steel-toed boots, could have been kicking at Lu’s feet and never gotten him to cough it up.
For such a rough and tumble game, one might think our matches often dissolved into fights, but that just wasn't the case. We all knew what the game entailed, and what to expect when playing. If someone didn’t like how the game was played, then he didn’t play.
And it was always that way with Kick the Can, but for one very notable exception….
(…To Be Continued)
No comments:
Post a Comment