Only Approved Indians Can Play Made In The USA from _Only Approved Indians: Stories_ by Jack D. Forbes
ONLY APPROVED INDIANS CAN PLAY MADE IN THE USAThe ALL-INDIAN BASKETBALL TOURNAMENT WAS IN ITS second day.  Excitement was pretty high, because a lot of the teams were very good, or at least eager and hungry to win.  Quite a few people had come out to watch, mostly Indians.  Many were relatives or friends of the players.  A lot of people were betting money and tension was pretty great.
	A team from the Tucson Inter-Tribal House was set to play against a group from the Great Lakes region.  The Tucson players were mostly very dark young men, with long black hair.  A few had goatees or mustaches, though, and one of the Great Lakes fans had started a rumor that they were really Chicanos.  This was a big issue since the Indian Sports League had a rule that all players had to be of one-quarter or more Indian blood and that they had to have their BIA roll numbers available if challenged.
	And so a big argument started. One of the biggest, darkest Indians on the Tucson team had been singled out as a Chicano, and the crowd wanted him thrown out.  The Great Lakes players, most of whom were pretty light, refused to start.  They all had their BIA identification cards, encased in plastic.  This proved that they were all real Indians, even a blonde-haired guy.  He was really only about one--sixteenth, but the BIA rolls had been changed for his tribe, so legally he was one-fourth.  There was no question about the Great Lakes team. They were all land-based, federally-recognized Indians (although living in a big midwestern city), and they all had their cards to prove it.
	Anyway, the big, dark Tucson Indian turned out to be a Papago. He didn’t have a BIA card, but he could talk Papago, so they let him alone for the time being.  Then they turned toward a lean, very Indian-looking guy who had a pretty big goatee.  He seemed to have a Spanish accent, so they demanded to see his card.
	Well, he didn’t have one either.  He said that he was a full-blood Tarahumara Indian and that he could also speak his language.  None of the Great Lakes Indians could talk their languages, so they said that was not proof of anything, that you had to have a BIA roll number.
The Tarahumara man was getting pretty angry by then.  He said his father and uncle had been killed by the whites in Mexico and that he did not expect to be treated with prejudice by other Indians.
But all that did no good.  Someone demanded to know if he had a reservation and if his tribe was recognized.  He replied that his people lived high up in the mountains and that they were still resisting the Mexicanos, that the government was trying to steal their land.
“What state do your people live in?” they wanted to know.  When he said that his people lived free, outside of the control of any state, they only shook their fists at him.  “You’re not an official Indian.  All official Indians are under the white man’s rule now.  We all have a number given to us to show that we are recognized.”
Well, it all came to an end when someone shouted, “Tarahumaras don’t exist.  They’re not listed in the BIA dictionary.”  Another fan yelled, “He’s a Mexican.  He can’t play.  This tournament is only for Indians.”
The officials of the tournament had been huddling together.  One blew a whistle, and an announcement was made:  “The Tucson team is disqualified.  One of its members is a Yaqui.  One is a Tarahumara.  The rest are Papagos.  None of them have BIA enrollment cards.  They are not Indians within the meaning of the laws of the government of the United States.  The Great Lakes team is declared the winner by default.”
A tremendous roar of applause swept through the stands.  A white BIA official wiped the tears from his eyes and said to a companion, “God bless America.  I think we’ve won.”