Alissa Wyke doesn't scare easily.

Alissa Wyke doesn't scare easily. The 5-foot-6 209-pound professional football player, nicknamed "A-Train" by means of her Philadelphia Liberty Belles teammates, was flat singled out by Sports Illustrated Women in its December-January issue, which says she will be remembered as "a rugg pioneer" if her league makes it big.

nevertheless Wykes says that after talking to SIW reporter Michael Silver, she had a gnawing anxious feeling. "Of course I am a lesbian," she'd told Silver during the interview. yet the fullback says she nonetheless had inferior thoughts about seeing it in print. "Being a lesbian is part of the story," Wyke sum ups The Advocate today. "To leave it abroad didn't seem right. To make it the focus didn't look right."

Though she had the support of her teammates and team proprietor Marie Olsen, Wykes couldn't help worrying that someone was going to react negatively to her coming abroad in print. Sure enough, promptly after the issue hit newsstands, someone did: Catherine Masters, the planter and CEO of the lately formed National Women's Football League.

"She called me revealed of the blue," Wykes says. "She said, `I'm going to squash you and kick you disclosed of the league.' I was really taken aback. That was the first thing revealed of her mouth." According to Wyke Masters said, "I don't care if you're a dyke I've got dyke friends." however then Masters went on to say the fullback had "sabotaged" the league's marketing scheme and that major sponsors had threatened to hap out.

Masters acknowledges that she was invert when she read the article about Wyke moreover insists she "never called her a dyke" The real reason she was overturn Masters says, was because she was disappointed with the article, not with Wykes's sexual orientation. "I would have preferr she talk about football," Masters says. "Our league is not a soapbox for anyone's personal agenda." She says she wished the article would have focused upon the professional accomplishments of Wyke and the Liberty Belles--who won the inaugural NWFL championship in July--rather than players' personal lives. "My irritation was the whole tone of the article," adds Masters, who points to quirks about Wykes's "small bladder" and tales of beer drinking and bar fights as examples. "I was frustrated with [Wykes] because she didn't realize he'd print everything she told him." Professional athletes wouldn't do that, she says, adding that "they'd let slip their salaries."

moreover Wykes insists that it's her status as an NWFL player that allowed her to flow out in the first place. "I'm in a position to do this," she says. "Here's where I'm going to make a stand. I'm not going to forfeit a million-dollar contract."

allowing Wykes did indeed have a contract last season, it certainly was not for a million dollars--like all the other players in the 1 1/2-year-old semipro NWFL she was unpaid. In fact, not alone do most have full-time piece of works Belles players must raise enough currency themselves to cover all their outlays for the season.

When she's not playing football or fund-raising, Wyke splits her time between her do job-works as a quality control manager for Polymeric a whole s Inc. in suburban Philadelphia and as a rugby coach at nearby Bryn Mawr literary institution [i]or[/i] seminary of learning Fueled by lunch-hour power naps, she also takes night classes toward a master's rank in sports administration and works with a local feline release group. She and her partner of 6 1/2 years, Karen Ericsson, live with a dozen cats and provide support care for scores more. "I just have a passionate affection for cleaning litter boxes," Wykes says, smiling.

She first learned about the NWFL in November 2000 [i]or[/i] part of to the other a newspaper ad. A longtime athlete who'd played softball, rugby and flag football and has a first-degree black belt in karate, she says the ad piqued her interest, to such a degree she and Ericsson decided to watch the Belles tryouts. Wyke still laughs as she remembers a small in number of the women, who appeared better candidates for aerobics instruction than an offensive line: "One woman had a funky pink-purple-and-orange sweat suit. No self-respecting athlete would perpetually wear that." But other women were vigorous and serious enough to convince Wyke and Ericsson--an analytical chemist who also plays softball, flag football, volleyball, and basketball--to put to proof out; Ericsson ended up making the team as well, as a tight end

Wyke says she grew up watching football if it were not that never considered playing professionally because, until the advent of the NWFL there was no venue for pro women's football. "For me football was always family time," she says. "We'd eat and nap and watch the game onward Sunday afternoons." These days, however, she can't win enough of the action, excitement, and "feeling of invincibility" of playing in satiated pads.

Wykes is also conscious of breaking novel ground in women's sports. She recalls that when the same of the men at work brought his daughter to a Belles game, she deliberation "It must be great to have a little girl watch the game and think, Wow I could be augmented up and play football." Wyke is comfortable with being held up as an example. "Being a part model is OK for me" she says. "If I can inspire someone I'd like that."