I don't remember if i blogged this before or not, but about 2 weeks ago my man mook and i were out on the stoop, drinking and listening to jams while enjoying a short summer lightning show. For some reason the topic of soccer came up, and I happened to be talking about my glory high school days when someone who had parked on our street overheard, and long story short, asked me to play on his city league team. This team sucks. Bad. I find it hard to believe that any of the 30-40 year old overweight dudes ever played soccer, but if they did, they show no evidence. Last week we got stomped by an all girls team. With the talent (or lack thereof) we have, it was actually not that humiliating, it was just kind of expected.
Anyways, this week I had my second game with this team, getting beat even worse by an all foreigner team, that still, by my standards, was not good. Afterward though, an older guy asked if anyone could play for his team whose teammates didnt show up. Another game another loss, but thankfully this game introduced me to a couple younger dudes that had a coed game afterward, and needed a sub. 3 goals and 2 assists later, we had smoked the other team, and I was asked to play for them permanently. So now I'm on two city league teams, hoping to move up a little bit more. Maybe by the end of the summer I'll have found a good team that plays competitively. Gotta dream about something.
The one thing I definitely don't miss about intramural, city, or busch leagues, are the constant new bruises I'm bringing home from each game. During the game I have so much adrenaline pumping, I don't feel any kind of pain from other people's kicks, but about 20 minutes after a game, all the bumps and bruises take hold, and attempt to cripple me. You should probably see my ankle right now, looks like a Rihanna's face after CB went upside her head. Yea i know that was a low blow, but it was still funny.
Saying Yes to the Mess: a letter to my son
1 week ago