Girls game on: Participating in Powderpuff
Bright lights. Hot pink jerseys. Unforgiving turf. Powderpuff isn’t for the faint of heart.
We were a score away from heading to the finals. I lined up next to our quarterback, Ella Wright, on third and goal. Wright hiked the ball, and I sprinted on a deep slant toward the end zone. Their safety played tight, leaving me just enough space. I pointed up to Wright, signaling to throw it high. She lobbed it, a perfect spiral, into my open arms. The whistle blew —touchdown!
We were headed to the championship game and had earned our spot in the Utah State University Powderpuff Tournament finals.
The tournament started at Legacy Fields with 12 teams of determined girls decked out in war paint and ready to play seven-on-seven flag football. Our team, the NARPS, came in down a player for the first matchup. In 80-degree heat, we took the field.
I hadn’t played on any flag football team that intramural season and felt behind compared to the other girls who had been practicing together for weeks.
But while I lacked experience in flag football, I knew one thing: I was a competitor. And competition was competition.
The games were fast-paced — two 12-minute halves with a running clock. Every possession felt like a race against time, with breaks being few and far between. We didn’t have time to dwell on mistakes, strategize or prepare for our next matchup.
While waiting for the referees to prepare for our next matchup, I lay on the grass, shielding my eyes from the blazing sun with scraps of my cut-up t-shirt. The oversized XL men’s shirts we were given weren’t ideal, so we cut off the sleeves and half the torso to move freely during play.
But I couldn’t complain. As the number one seed, we had earned two byes. For some teams, there was no break at all — nonstop play from 3 p.m. to the championship game that lasted until nearly 11 p.m.
I thought flag football would mean less physicality — a way to ease into the sport. That was a complete sham. I ended up face down in the dirt more times than I could count, diving for passes and getting tangled up in scrambles for flags.
On the Merlin Olsen Field at Maverik Stadium, the turf was brutal. It shredded our exposed skin with every fall. One player ended up in the ER with a concussion after a nasty spill. Another dove for the ball and had turf embedded in her arms.
By night’s end, my shoulders and knees were scraped raw. Looking back now, I can honestly say I had never been so sore in my life, even during my college basketball days.
People criticized Powderpuff as a watered-down version of football — an insult as if we were playing something less than the “real” game. But after seven grueling hours, where the lines between flag football and tackle football blurred, I could confidently say there was nothing weak about it.
These girls were tough. I had never seen anyone in a hot pink shirt, bows and face paint run that fast or hit that hard.
The championship game was a dogfight, lasting almost an hour. Under the bright lights of Maverik Stadium, it felt like we were playing for more than a $15 Amazon trophy.
In the final two minutes, we were tied six-six. We had the chance at a two-point conversion to put us on top. We ran our classic play that heavily relied on my height and Wright’s arm. My teammates gave Wright just enough time to find me at the end of my route. She lobbed it up, I caught it and the crowd went wild.
Now up two against our competitors, The Real Housewives, we had to get a defensive stop to secure our win. We were physically exhausted, and marching back down the field to score in under a minute seemed like a pipe dream. Defense was everything.
The Real Housewives were knocking on our door — third and goal, with only four yards to go.
Wright and I rushed their quarterback, forcing her to retreat. She backpedaled as she searched for an open receiver. I threw my hands up, trying to deflect the pass she lofted toward the corner of the end zone.
When their quarterback lofted one up, I whipped my head around to see our cornerback stepping in front of the receiver and intercepting the ball. That was it — game over.
The crowd — just over 100 people — erupted. It felt like we were the Utah State Aggies triumphing over the University of Utah. Under the lights, we celebrated like champions.
The HURD rushed the field, presenting us with what felt like our own Vince Lombardi Trophy. It may have been a $15 plastic trophy, but after seven hours of intense play, it felt like the Super Bowl.
Powderpuff may have started as a “fun” intramural event that you do with your girlfriends, but it morphed into a brawl of strategy, athleticism, teamwork and control.
In reality, there was nothing soft about this game. The bows and pink jerseys might have fooled some, but the toughness on that field had nothing to do with how we looked. It was about how hard we pushed, how much we endured and how fiercely we fought. And I’ll admit— we looked pretty good doing it, cheering each other on every step of the way in true girlhood fashion.