After my futile experiences of trying to be a die hard international football fan by playing a video game and watching a match, I decided to put myself into the players' shoes and strap on the cleats for a session of open soccer.
Ironically, the indoor field I played on was a hockey rink without the ice. Only in the United States...
After paying five dollars and showing up a half an hour early, guaranteeing plenty of time to get my gear on, I found myself with 29 minutes to burn before the session actually started. Apparently, unlike hockey, it doesn't take 15 minutes to get dressed.
"I'm liking this already," I said to myself as I walked onto the artificial turf that posed as a football field.
My head draped with an awesome white headband circa the disco ages and both my wrists also wrapped in sweatbands, I slowly walked towards middle field imagining that the empty bleachers were filled with 89,000 screaming Arsenal fans (I would have settled for three fans who thought there was a hockey game at the rink). With flash bulbs (actually a malfunctioning light) going off around me, I slowly turned around looking at all angles around the field.
CUT! That scene was perfect for a movie.
My cinematic moment turned back to reality as I started to jog for a quick warm-up. Four minutes and four pounds of sweat later, I stretched my entire body in preparation for the game, which would start in a matter of minutes as other aspiring soccer players entered the field.
The game started and, naturally, I sat out the first three minutes trying to learn the game. In that span, I learned more than I have in 20 years on this earth. If you're thinking that I was going to be a disaster, please pick up your prize now.
My turn to enter the field came, so I took the same position I had in the video game: the right wing looking spot. I was ready to get my score on! But apparently the other right wing guy had the same idea, as he told me to get a new position.
The search for a position lasted a minute, as I settled for a defensive position. What was this? I'm suppose to be the American incarnation of Pelé, not a lowly defender.
After coming to terms that I wouldn't be scoring this time around, I set my goals to be the best defender ever. As the play came down to my end, I targeted in on the ball carrier. As he was within striking distance, I stuck my foot out for an easy steal. He did not cooperate.
I fell right on my rear end as he dribbled past me. He took a shot that missed the net, so ,naturally, I thought I tired him out just enough to make him mess up.
Me, one; fancy ball kicker, ZERO!
My turn came to an end as I sat on the bench, confident in my amazing soccer skills. I signed some autographs (told a player of mine good job) and did a world wide interview (took a drink of water) until I got back onto the field. I sprinted for the forward position and claimed it as my own. My scoring debut was about to begin!
It wasn't three seconds into my shift that I had the ball kicked into my general area. I took off in a dead sprint after the ball and got close enough to it to kick it towards the net for a shot that was sure to go in. The ball fluttered about 25 feet short of the net right to a defender. That was not acceptable; I wanted to score!
We're going to send you the most entertaining Manchester United articles, videos, and podcasts from around the web.
5 Comments
Loading more comments...
This comment and all replies have been deleted This comment has been deleted Undo delete