Soccer Sickness

I didn't let a sinus infection, head/chest congestion, and an ear ache deter me from my previously planned weekend of fun. In retrospect, I probably should have rested more... but it was worth it.

It was worth it to watch Larry sing karaoke on Saturday night. Larry, one of my coworkers (actually, one of my Leaders, due to his promotion), and also a member of my volleyball and softball teams, sang several songs on Saturday night. My mentor, Jane, and her husband, Rich, had invited a few of us over their house for a small dinner gathering at the last minute. (I was very thankful to be able to attend, since Jolyon and I originally had plans to be in Tampa for the afternoon/evening with his family.) Rich has a high-tech karaoke machine, and encouraged all of us to take part after we'd eaten our fill of the buffet and had several drinks. Mild-mannered Larry, previously opposed to karaoke in our past outings, actually volunteered to sing and put on quite the show. Sadly, I remained an observer of the sing alongs, as it was still a struggle for me to talk without sounding like a man.

Additionally, I was very excited to finally get to see Jane and Rich's house. Jane is a very exotic woman, and her house was exactly as I had pictured it-- European paintings and antique-style furniture... plus she has her own arts and crafts room, in which the room was aglow with a green lava lamp. I had bought Jane a small lava lamp for her desk at work last year for her 40th birthday. I had remembered a conversation we had when I first started with the department, in which Jane stated she had always wanted a lava lamp. I made a mental note of that, and 10 months later, I bought Jane her first lava lamp. She loved it, and thus had to buy a few more for her house.

And today... I played soccer.

I had tried to set up a practice with the team I put together for the 5v5 tournament that Disney is having next month. It ended up being Robin, Alan, Jolyon, and myself... but we had a good time. I was struggling to breathe, thanks to the sickness, shortly after we started playing two on two... but it felt great to be on the field with a soccer ball again. I tried to do a little goalkeeping, putting on my old gloves, which would need to be replaced if I ever started playing full-time again. My keeper skills are rusty and my ability to read a strike is very off. Catches and dives that used to come easy to me now take a conscious effort. I suppose this is to be expected, since I haven't played in a legitimate soccer game since 2005, but it still made me a bit sad.

Growing up, my life was soccer. All my friends played soccer, and our parents became friends on the sidelines, cheering us on. I played year-round, usually balancing two teams at a time-- the town team and a premiere travel team. If I wasn't at school, or doing homework outside of school, I was at soccer practice. Summers typically meant the town soccer camp, my premiere team's soccer camp, and then a national goalkeeper overnight camp, usually a few states over. I wonder how much money my parents shelved out to help fine-tune my skills over the course of 12 years...

I didn't play soccer in college, though. I had the opportunity, especially since I could have essentially walked onto the team, since the current goalkeeper was a senior the year I was a freshman. But I was burned out by that point. Senior year of high school had been rough, for many reasons, since I was trying to balance my job as an Assistant Store Manager at the mall with schoolwork, college applications, and the Varsity team. But college meant new experiences. I joined the school newspaper, helped out on the campus television station, did volunteer work at the Boys & Girls Club downtown and at the local animal shelters, and wrote and edited for the campus literary magazines.

I wish I had played college soccer. Sure, I played indoor intramurals for 4 years, but it's not the same. I remember chatting with my high school friends who had gone on to play college soccer, and I remember feeling envious, though I had no reason to feel that way. It was my choice to retire my cleats and hang up my gloves. But as the years progressed, I yearned for the smell of a sweaty locker room, the sound of a kicked ball, the arguments with the referees, the cheers from the sidelines, the adrenaline during a shoot-out in double-overtime, the team bonding....

Without soccer in my life, it always felt like something was missing. I attributed this inner-lonliness to the fact that I didn't have a solid social group in college, like I did in high school. But the reality was, I missed the sport that had shaped and developed my life.

I'm not sure anyone can truly understand this, unless, you, too have ever fallen in love with a sport. There are days when I miss it like it were an actual person. Soccer wasn't just something I did during my free time, or something I juggled with other activities. Soccer was, essentially, my life. It defined who I was. I used it as an escape from life's challenges, a refuge where I was safe because I was in control. I commanded the field and I owned that net. I wasn't unstoppable, but my presence always indicated otherwise. Competing travel teams knew who I was, and I remember my parents arguing over which team I would try out for, because multiple coaches had been calling them.

Those were my true glory days. I worked and trained hard. It wasn't always fun (those 5am runs in the dark before breakfast during overnight camp, when you were so sore from the previous night's training), and there were a few practices where I swore I would never come back (suicide sprints until you threw up).

But now? I would give anything to be in the shape I used to be, and go back in time for one more practice, one more overnight camp, or one more game...

I never knew how much it could hurt to miss a sport.