The Weight
Trip Start
Apr 01, 1979
1
34
109
Trip End
Ongoing
Washington, District of Columbia, United States
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
myself. I just love to play. And you know, when I
play, even if I'm not the best athlete, its still
great because I took my shot out there and made it
happen. So why do I feel so guilty about playing the
game? I mean, soccer is my life, and I've jumped at
the chances I've had since coming to DC to play it.
And of course I've been a bit pigeon holed lately
into playing Co-Ed ball all the time. So I couldn't
pass it up, could I? Well it turns out, I didn't. I
didn't pass up the chance to play on an All-Men's
soccer team. Rather I embraced the opportunity to
play in a competitive environment again. I mean,
don't get me wrong, Co-Ed soccer keeps me on my toes.
This ain't exactly the Grass Kickers we're playing.
Some of these girls can flat play, and most of the
ones in my league played college ball. But it just
isn't the same. Co-Ed affords more time on the ball,
the pace is much slower for most games, and most
importantly, there is a no slide-tackling rule.
That's right, you don't get dirty when you're playing
against the ladies (even if there are only 4 per
side). So to be back in the men's game, sliding when
necessary (I've found the necessity of sliding much
less than it used to be by the way. In my R.s
days, I'd hit dirt every chance I got. Now, I stay up
and play more to feet. It turns out to be more
efficient for a slow poke like me), I've found a bit
of calm. The passion of the game is higher because
the pace is quicker. It even took me about 3 or 4
games to really get into the speed of play. And right
now I'm far from my best. I'm definitely still
growing into it, improving every week. So I can't be
faulted for playing, can I? I mean they asked, I said
yes, and its been good, right? But why do I feel so
bad, you may be thinking? Because its not just any
old Men's league. No, its far from that. Rather, its
an over-30 men's league. Me, a baby-faced 20-something, playing
with a bunch of grandpas. And you know what the worst
part is? You know what really gets me going? Its
that they say I don't look 20-something. I'll tell you what
that means because I don't want that to be lost in
translation. It means two things: First, it means I
don't play 20-something. That's right, I play more like a 40
year old then a guy who should be hitting his prime.
I play like someone on the downward spiral rather than
a young bloke still finding his footing. Freddy Adu I
ain't, more like Youri Djorkaeff, (find out more at
www.mlsnet.com). And the second thing that means,
when they say I don't look 20-something, is the worst part.
Because I know, most people say my face looks young.
I always get carded when buying drinks, even when many
of my more youthful friends don't. No, it doesn't
mean that my face looks wise and old, it means my body
does. I have the body of an older guy, and since I
already play like one, why not join the grandpa
league? Well you know what I say, bring it on. We've
won 4, tied one and lost one since I've joined. And I
haven't won soccer games like that since, well,
R.s circa '99. So bring it on, just bring it on.
Quick hits:
-Speaking of old, today I go to sign the paperwork to
buy a house. That's right, now you can add mortgage
to the reasons I feel like I'm about 70. Its a nice
place, though, with an extra bedroom.
-I wouldn't be laying down odds on Wynalda's record
being broken just yet, but man that Eddie Johnson kid
sure knows how to find the back of the net.
-Did I ever mention that my realtor was gay? And has
an adopted kid. And went to W. And is head
of the W. Gay and Lesbian Alumni Association.
I asked my dad (another W. grad) if he was a
member of that group, and he said, he hadn't yet had
the pleasure. I told him I'd pass on his email
address.
-I wore a tie to work three days in a row last week
due to some sessions for my program. The only way
to find out how bad you normally dress is to finally
dress nice one day. I never have heard so many people
say, "Wow, you look nice." Or, "Wow, you wore a tie."
Or, "Thanks for not dressing like a slob today, you
fat bastard son of a biatch."
-I got my sister a gift card to Pizza Hut for her
birthday, but she didn't say thank you. Perhaps she
hasn't gotten it yet. Anyway, nothing says happy
birthday like Pizza Hut, except for perhaps, Taco
Bell.
