Another Team

I think I joined a second soccer team. A co-ed soccer team. Which basically means boys with a few girls thrown in there. Boys are fast. Christina is slow. Ron, coach of my other soccer team, totally set me up for failure by praising my speed and fitness. He either really wants something from me or is blind.

Oh, did I mention this is John's team? It's John's team. With John's friends. And John's co-workers. There goes my nice, comparmentalized life.

I came out on Wednesday for a little pick up game. I think the temperature was a million degrees. Of course I was up against the biggest, fastest, most skilled player there. I called him 'Gray Shirt Man.' Gray Shirt Man was pretty nice at first. Then at some point our heads collided. He checked to make sure I was okay and I guess noticed that my skin is made of leather and that he didn't scare me. Then Gray Shirt Man got scary. Something must have happened to his eyes in the hot afternoon sun because I don't think he could see me anymore, judging by the way he ran right through me time and time again.

I can't remember the last time soccer wore me out this much. Acutally, I can. It was in college. But lets keep this sounding dramatic. All my old coaches' voices started going through my head. Mike #1, "You guys are losers!" Oh, it turns out you're right after all these years. Coach Peter, when asked if we could have water, "Bite your tongue and salivate!" I tried but I think the sun evaporated every bit of moisture from me. Weaver, "There is no walking in soccer!" Oops, my legs don't seem to remember that. Mike #2, "#^&*!!!" I'm going to keep it PG but just imagine a lot of bad words. In your imagination, imagine them being shouted. And maybe the shouter is kicking something or throwing something on the ground in frustration.

Then, as if the 'ol ego hadn't been damaged enough, I set up the winning goal for the other team. All afternoon I tried and failed to get a head on the ball before Gray Shirt Man did. Finally I had what was supposed to be my moment of greatness. I beat Gray Shirt Man to the ball and had a nice header to the outside. Maybe the rest of my team decided I was bad luck and tried to stay away from me because no one was there to recieve the ball except the other team. And they did recieve the ball. And scored. Ugh.

So its been two days since the game and I feel like most muscles were beat with a bat. I feel like there should be a moral here but I really can't think of one. If you can, let me know, kthanks.