• As the classic bell would ring, children with pent up energy from learning how to write their ABC's or perhaps solving arithmetic, would stream out of classrooms and through hallways like a dam that has just been broken. For several of these kids, the delightful thought of jumping rope or gamboling on the playground was in mind.
    But for many others, there was only one word.
    Kids from eight to ten (For unfortunately, it seemed as though there was an age discrimination)
    would go to either side of a large grassy field, because it did not matter who was on who's side. There were many types of kids, from spirited boys, to stubborn tomboyish girls. Once, on a rare occasion, there was even an adult, with a white shirt, beige pants, and a tie. Now these kids would line up, as if ready for war, waiting with alert ears and eyes for their general's command. Some would hold soccer balls. Others held dodgeballs. A select few would hold the coveted volleyballs as well, for they were smaller, lighter, and flew like a gray round bird into the sky, and come rocketing back like an outer space meteorite. In the midst of the children, one cried out something incomprehensible, but it did not need to have words. Every child understood what it meant. The game was started.
    All at once, the air was dotted with a kicked ball, whether low to the ground, or up to the heavens. It was as if they were cannonballs, hitting the earth just before these miniature soldiers. But of course, the object of the game wasn't war. What you had to do was catch the ball, before it could hit the ground, almost like dodgeball. But when someone caught it, the other wasn't out. No one was ever out. To catch the ball gave you the sheer joy of accomplishment, and the quick shouted congratulations of others as they themselves tried to obtain that feeling of success. The best part of the game was that no one ever lost. Yes, it was a sweet, pointless game, with the adrenaline pumping through one's veins, and the sky filled with soccer balls, dodgeballs, and the rare volleyballs. When at last the bell rang, the children would disperse rather reluctantly, boasting about a hard caught ball, or perhaps shouting that someone one and the other lost. But we all knew it deep down in our hearts and souls: No one really won, or lost. But it would always continue. That was the beauty of kickback.