27 February 2006

It wasn't Beckham, that much I know.

We were back to our regularly scheduled soccer programming this weekend, which was nice. I got super-antsy after only having one opportunity to struggle into my stirrup socks last weekend.

Anyway, Saturday we had a really stellar set of heading drills, taught by James, The Man Who Makes Heading Look Easy and Not Painful. Seriously, this man looks every inch the football hooligan. He is from Liverpool (I think), his head is shaved to stubble, and he appears to be unaffected by getting smacked in the forehead repeatedly with projectiles. Like the two other gentlemen who coach us through the basics of football each week, James is the bee's knees.

The funny thing about heading: one inch too high or one inch too low, and it really effing hurts. If you hit that perfect place in the center of your forehead, the pain dissipates almost immediately.

I did a couple of decent ones, even when we practiced heading for goals. My forehead is tender, and I have a minor bruise on my nose. Not bad.

The big news from Saturday, though, is the really sweet goal I scored in the scrimmage. A hard kick from the left that crossed in front of the keeper into the right-most corner of the goal. The pinnacle of my soccer career, unlikely to be repeated in a situation where it counts, but I was pretty excited. James said it was like Renaldo...or was it Reynaldo? Or Ronald(inh)o? (I hope it was Ronaldinho... he's kickass... hence the picture of him). Well, some cool footballer who does not fall on his ass from a standstill.

Sunday was a tough match against a team called "Purple Haze." They have the requisite large quantity of big dudes.... none of whom could be bothered to actually wear their jerseys. Two of them were into the showboating footwork. Next time, I'm going to employ a little psychological warfare in my man-marking technique. We'll see who's giggling in the playoffs, big wild-haired-fancy-footworking dude. We'll see. I'm going to make you blush. And hopefully slow you down enough to take the ball away. Also, you and your rocket-footed friend are dicks. And you can quote me.

Anyway, if you couldn't tell, we lost. Our GD is back to negative numbers, though we're going into the playoffs in third place. So, our elimination match will be against a team we've beaten before. Not bad. Not bad atall.

Aforementioned rocket-footed gentleman was a little, shall we say, overzealous. And we weren't enjoying his antics. Nora, shortly after scoring a beautiful goal, went in to block this guy's shot and badly twisted her knee, necessitating a trip to the ER after the game. Luckily, nothing is torn, it was just a nasty sprain. The guy was chastened, but they still rallied their spirits and kicked our asses.

Next week's the playoff game vs. Bleu Cheese. Paint yourself green and come cheer us on.

No comments: