Hearing people’s reactions to my old soccer photo made me think about those days a bit.
Catherine can still wear my jacket from those days, which had my name embroidered on it – we were a “club” team after all. Only AYSO in the summer when we wanted to slum it a bit. Catherine’s sister saw her wearing the jacket once and asked what thrift store it came from. My closet circa 1981-ish?
I used to have a finesse game. “Spider legs” was what someone started calling me and it stuck for a while with the moms. Speaking of moms, there was Mrs. Northrup, with her black and red camero that had her name painted on the side (Cheri). My mother would always bring up how Mrs. Northrup could cook eggplant and I’d eat it, but I wouldn’t eat it at home. She used to make fresh donuts in the morning too.
Anyway, times have changed. I no longer leap gracefully over futile attempts by the defense. I don’t dazzle them with ball control. And I never danced on top of the ball the way Ethan did tonight.
Now, I am just 210 pounds of in-your-way. My strategy is to be a moving obstacle. Pin people into the wall. Block the goalie’s view and set picks on offense. Take a charge and be that immovable object that they weren’t expecting to still be standing in front of them. I’m not quick enough to fall for your fake and move aside, Mr. Fancy Shoes. You need to take the long way around me. The futility that the other team feels now isn’t because of my deft moves, but more around the fact that they can’t move me. I feel their arms and elbows flail against me. Nothing. Maybe my shirt is tugged. Meaningless.
But its not like I’m a some sort of superhero. I am more like a tanker that has inadvertently found its way into a small bay. My turns are not tight, I am not able to spin and stay in the play. I make my move, then if I’m not successful, there is a long awkward arc as I try and change directions. If I had the extra energy, I’m sure I could imagine horns and alarms going off as I try to perform this dangerous maneuver. As it is, all I can really hear is my body trying to suck in as much air as possible.
And let’s be honest here – many times I am simply 210 pounds of just been passed.
I still love this silly game though. I’m physically exhausted, yet my mind is still racing about it.
It is the same game. Just different now. I’m very interested to see how I adapt…