This morning the kids had their Diocesan cross country championships up at the Lawrence County Fairgrounds. We arrived bright and early, at 8:15 a.m., and braved the cold, wind, and periodic rain as we cheered on our beloved Sts. Peter & Paul Pacers. Luckily we had coffee and Oram’s donuts to keep the adults warm and happy while the kids ran.
Both The Animal and Boogieface ran bravely, and although neither placed, we were so proud of how hard they ran. Meanwhile, all the kids on the team supported and cheered for one another, and at the end of the day they brought home two team trophies for the school. It was a wonderful show of sportsmanship by all.
Not so much later on in the day during my old guys’ soccer match.
I play on an over-40 team in a Pittsburgh-area rec league. Today we had a playoff game vs. our arch rival, who we just played last week. And during that game, two 50-year-olds got in a fist fight. (Go ahead and re-read that sentence.) Seriously, during a rec league for middle-aged men, two said men ended up punching each other in the face. How nice.
Today’s game, thank goodness, was sans-fisticuffs. But there was still way too much pushing and shoving and testosterone-fueled (surprising, I know) shenanigans that made it seem as if a fight could break out at any moment. How silly.
I mean, I play because I love soccer, I like competition, and I enjoy the exercise. I want to have fun, get a good workout, and — most important — not get hurt. But so many of these guys are out there, beer-bellies and all, trying to relive the old glory days. Maybe I’m wrong, but I can’t imagine the same thing happening in a women’s rec league.
Anyway, the highlight (or lowlight) of the game was when the skies opened up and a freezing cold, driving sleet storm hit, making all-but-impossible to play the game. Actually, the highlight of the game was when I scored a goal with my butt on a corner kick. No joke.
I guess you could say I played my ass off. ~
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Copyright © 2018 Valentine J. Brkich