RASBALL

Rassball is the name of my football league that I play in on saturday mornings. It is one of my great loves in life and I wanted to explain the history and why it means so much to me.

First of all the name Rassball comes from one of the players and a friend of mine Richard Rassmussen. Rass grew up in mesa and was fortunate to have a wealthy father who owned a nice house with even a bigger back yard. Since grade school, him and his friends would play tackle and touch football until it was dark every night. As he grew older his Dad installed lights on the field and it became a weekly ritual to leave the girlfriends at home and play. I have only heard of the stories about the backyard. One endzone was backed by a wood fence that Jerry Coleman still claims he has splinters from. It then moved to saturday mornings at a nearby highschool when they outgrew the backyard. (About 1989) The game became stronger and the people who wanted to play outpaced demand and it became an invitation only league. 14 people plus 4 on the sub list if you were lucky. If you were #1 on the sub list you would be the first called if someone went on vacation or was sick. Never more then 14. Ryan Driggs who is the leagues "commissioner" , or the guy who has the final say in who gets to be in the league and who is going to get kicked out, was one of Rass's best friends growing up and his sister Melissa married my best friend Dean Stadler. This is how I was introduced to Rassball. Dean was not only a good quarterback but what lucky enough to marry into this great league. I still remember talking to Dean on a saturday afternoon and asking what he did earlier in the day. When he told me he played football, I remember being heart broken that he never invited me when he knew how much I loved playing. Dean and I played on a city league team together. But every once in a while, Dean would call me and say "we need a sub, can you play?" Once I went a couple of times, I realized how tight the group was and there was about 10-15 guys each year begging to play but was told No or put on the waiting list. Dean was unable to invite me without getting permission from the "commish". But everytime they needed a sub, he would throw my name out there, and everyonce in a while he would get the ok to invite me. I started playing 2-3 times a season as a sub and worked my way up to #1 sub. One time Dean knocked on my door at 4:15 in the morning and said someone didnt show up and they need a sub. I was out the door and on the field in 5 minutes. Dean was so excited everytime I got to play. The season lasts from Aug to Jan and we play every saturday morning. By the time the sun is breaking the horizon we have played for 30 minutes. Anyway, I took what I could get and when I got invited as a sub, I played hard and kept my mouth shut. Rookies have not earned the right to talk smak, especially not a sub. I remember not getting invited, but driving to the field one morning and without being seen, I watched them play from my car. It was better then nothing. Every year a couple of guys would either move away or circumstances prevented them from playing and a couple of guys get the call up to be a full timer. Some years nothing changed and the waiting list grew larger. I still remember getting the call from Ryan about 4 years ago asking if I wanted to be a full timer. That was the best day. I was part of the Rassball fraternity. I probally would have shed a tear, if Dean had not already informed my that I was on the top of the list to be invited that year. I owe Dean everything for that. He lobbied hard for me.


There are many great stories and folk lore associated with Rassball. Last year a few of the guys and Rass went back to the original back yard which is owned by some old couple now and paid a visit to the sacred field and humble beginnings. I remember Jerry Coleman playing in white golf shoes because he packed his cleats in storage and was to cheap to buy new ones. One of the fields is nicknamed "trail of tears" because some stragler walked up before one of our games with cleats on his shoulder and said "I see you guys play every week, can I play?". Everyone felt so bad, but the commish sent him packing. One cold december morning Rass's dad drove his truck down into the retention basin we play on and set up a huge portable heater that the pro's use, had a 5 gallon jug of hot cocoa and krispie kreme donuts. It was classic. Then there is the "ghost ride". Rass was no where to be found one morning and we went ahead and started without him. All of the sudden we see Rass zooming down the field on a beach cruizer bicycle and as he gets close the the side line he jumps off his bike at full speed almost falling down and runs right up to the line and gets down in a 3 point stance huffing and puffing and yells "Im ready, Im ready" while his bike was still doing a ghost ride for about 20 yards. We could not stop laughing. His wife and left out of town with his keys and he had to ride his bike 9 miles that morning to get there. There are stories of guys who brough uninvited guests who showed up in Jeans and Rasta hats. Not only did that guy not come again, but the player who invited him without permission nearly lost his full time status. It is taken very seriously.
One of the fun things about playing is after we are done, we all drive to QT and get a soda and a krispie kreme and chat for awhile. (see picture below)
Each week, two captains do a silent draft to choose teams and we play to 12 by ones. The games get competitive and heated up but we are always friends once we reach QT. There is nothing a hot and krispy chicken taquito cant fix. Or if your Rass you get two chocolate krispy kremes and a mountain dew. He came up with the idea to put one Krispy kreme around the straw while eating the other. Genius! One year a group of guys who all played College ball at either BYU,RICKs or NAU who were not full timers, but knew of Rassball, got together and challenged us to a game.They were ticked they could not play and swore they could kill our best 7 guys. I remember being so happy when I was called to be one of the seven and we played a non sanctioned game against these semi-pro wanna-be's. They were probally pound for pound much better athletes, One guy was fresh from playing starting QB at Ricks college and another was some stud from Blue Ridge who was a 4 year starter at NAU. But this was our game and our field and we killed them 14-2. It was so sweet. But word got out to the other Rassballers who did not get an invite to this special game and we agreed to never play a non-sanctioned game again to not hurt anyones feelings.

Anyway the game goes on and each year we wonder how long we can keep playing as we get older. Each year we see another knee brace and another ankle wrap. But we give it a go. I hope it never ends. Every friday night is like Christmas eve. The alarm never sounds so sweet as is does on Saturday morning.