I play soccer on a co-ed team. As an over-weight, out of shape smoker, just showing up for the first practice last year was a challenge. I sat in my car for 30 minutes (smoking and probably eating chips) before I decided I've got nothing to lose (except maybe my front teeth) and in I went. Over the next several months, I rolled both my ankles, knocked knees with a butchy girl causing an immediate inability to stand and a seething pain around my knee cap, been knocked to the ground, lost my vision, taken balls in the mouth (not the good way I can assure you), and once, I even punched myself in the face. It was a rough year, but I keep going back. And it's changed me a little. For example, I yell more when kids try to knock my kid down, and I yell at her to knock em down back, then yell again when she gets a whistle. And I have a little more sympathy for the midget wimps that take a knee every time the ball or another player comes in contact with them. And the ones that look like their gonna fall over but still keep playing. And I get mad at the parents now who scream at their kids to try harder after 40 minutes of play ... you get on the field and see how many seconds you last .... bitches.
Aside from just getting injured during game play, and because I stay mainly on defense, I've also made a few great saves, and I mean great. When my cocky English goalie (who I heart ... not in THAT way because I also heart his wife ...) took the ball up the field to try to score, he was outplayed and a player from the opposing team was coming right at me ... with the ball. Given that I have a nicely rounded ass that real men tend to dig, I did the first thing that came to my mind ... I turned around and bent over! I was more expecting him to stop to check out the goods, but was immediately let down when I felt the ball at full force hit my ass. It stung, not gonna lie ... like my frontal box area stung once when I got in the way again of the ball. But I accepted the cheers from my team as the ball bounced away from our net. Great save buddy, our goalie yelled .. I rock! Or more like my ass rocks.
My most epic save, though not as classy, was during an outdoor game in July. I was getting back when the ball was coming at us from my right, I pivoted (as I normally do more than I actually run), then lost sight of the ball after a pass. I continued going back anyway, pivoted quick to the left when ... BAM!!! Lights out. I heard birds chirping. Then saw stars twinkling. I took a second to decide what to do, then my body took over. I was down. Quickly threw my pony-tail back in that had been whipped out of my head though because T-Bone was at the game and I had to look good no matter what just happened. I knew something hurt, but didn't know what the fuck just happened. I then heard my favorite cocky English goalie screaming Great Save Buddy. I had saved it with the side of my head. The person who kicked? A big mean boy with a heavy hard foot. The distance from his foot to my face? About 15 feet. Sun.of.a.whore! Three days ladies and gentlemen, three days, I suffered loudly in whiplash-style pain.
So last night I was back on the field after almost three months off. We changed the name of our team to something that isn't so obviously a bunch of old out of shape farts, and now we're mean. Our black & red instead of silver & white seemed to help and we won 7-4. My pumping adrenaline kept me awake for a lot longer than I needed to be, and just as I suspected, it was hard getting out of bed this morning. Not so much because I was tired (which I am ... ever. so. tired.) but because it is almost physically impossible to move certain muscles. From my back to my abs, to my groin, to my ass cheeks, to my thighs, calfs, and everything attached ... yes, my ass cheeks are sore.