A Soccer Day Equation

About 90 degrees this afternoon.

Plus.

2:00 to 4:50 soccer day.

Equals.

A tired girl. 

That girl was me today, a girl who played lots and lots of soccer today.  But don’t think I didn’t have fun.  I had lots of fun.  I heart my sport, my soccer.

All it was supposed to be today was an hour scrimmage against one of the teams in my league.  It was a scrimmage that was to help new referees learn what to do and how to call the game right.  Well there was a problem.  The team we were supposed to be playing were a no-show.  My coach told us the news as soon as he got there, and said he’d hope some of the other teams would show up early so that we could play them.  When the other team doesn’t show up, you assume that your team would be playing a lesser amount of time than usual.  But that was not the case.

We started playing just a 7 versus 7 scrimmage by splitting up our team, and adding two players not on our team (one of them my sister).  That game my team lost, a game that I believe was 2-0.  But it was so hard playing with only one other forward to pass with.  So I didn’t really count that as anything because it was so far off from a real game.

Finally, though, another team showed up, and we were allowed to really work together again.  I don’t like when my own team is the enemy I’m supposed to just smash into smitherines.  That’s not good.  But when you’re playing complete strangers, I have no problem dominating them.

And it was so much easier to because playing with only 6 other players is tiring, especially in the heat.  But if yous gots mores peoples on yours team, then all you need to play is your position.  Gets its?

After yours truly and another teammate scored a goal, the game came to an end at 2-0.  Did we crush them?  Yes.  To smitherines?  Not really, but we won.  A quick cheer and round of “good game”s went by, when my coach asked if anyone wanted to stay and play for another team who was in need for players.  I was fast to raise my hand.  I was so ready to play some more, since I didn’t even want my scrimmage with my own team to end.  And in that game…

Wait for it…

I got another goal.  Woohoo!  A girl crossed the ball to the center, to the perfect spot, and I somehow managed to get it past the goalie.  It wasn’t a very pretty goal, nothing to write home about, like my gymnastics coach always says, but it was a goal nonetheless.  And it was the only goal of the entire game.  And I wasn’t even playing with my own team.  And it was my second game in the desert-feeling heat.  Yeah, pretty much nailed it. J

It’s even more impressive that I played good in that game because one of the girls on the team I was playing with…  Well let’s just say that we have a little beef with the man she calls daddy.

The girl, the teammate, she’s really sweet, nice, and a pretty good player.  Her mother is a nice and funny woman, who was never on my bad side.  But her dad, her dad’s the big promblemo.

Let’s just start with one of the practices he was helping out with.  Shots on the goal, or something like that, was the focus of the drill we were doing.  It was so long ago I can’t remember exactly what it is he said to me, but it pissed me off.  This next part though, I remember clear as water.

I kicked the ball hard in the goal because, I don’t know, I was pissed, which should be a good thing, that I took my anger out on the ball, making it an even better shot.  But no, not to him.

“Anger issues,” this forty year old man tells an 11 year old at the time.  Can you believe that that was a grown-up talking.  I sure didn’t and still don’t today.  What a weirdo.

Then, to make my lovely opinion of him even more lovely, he decided to bribe us kids on the team with quarters.  When he decided who played the best for all four “quarters” of the game, he gave them change.  The only way, according to Problemo here, to get the team to play well, is to give them money.  That may work for some kids, but not for me.

But here’s the part that made Problemo, such a big darn problemo.  I just walked over to the side of the field during the water break when he attacked me like a vulture, telling me everything I was doing wrong in the game, what I needed to do better.  Not the right time.  It was the time I was trying to test my blood sugar, while simultaneously listening to him drone on and on about how terrible I was playing, according to him.  Well I was just a little bit busy trying to test my blood sugar, hook up Lola to my site, and give insulin.  And my site was in my bottom, meaning that I had to somehow connect it without, um, flashing everybody.  Awkward!

“Can you not do this now?” my mom asked him, her voice a little sharp, as she could tell I was struggling.  Take that, Problemo!  I got my feisty mommy taking you down!

But he wasn’t ready to back down, and instead, randomly, fired back, “I’m done with your family!”

What the heck, man.  I mean seriously.  What have we ever done to you?  Ugh.  I guess there’s just no rationale to it.  He’s just a messed up old man who, to my content, has gained quite a few pounds that I noticed today when I saw him.  What joy I found in that.  Aww, that’s mean.  I have to be the bigger person even though he’s about 6 feet tall.  I hope he lives his life without regret, even though I could think of a few for him.  Best wishes to him and his family.  J  Have a great life, Problemo!