Summer Soccer

Recently, I fought back that little inner voice that nagged “You’re out of shape! You’re out of practice!” and I joined a summer coed soccer league.

It’s an 8v8 league, which means small fields and even smaller nets. If they allowed goalkeepers (which, to my dismay, they don’t), they would have to be freakishly small individuals, or have amazing flexibility. There is a “goalkeeper” position; however, this player cannot touch the ball with any part of his body in the box, nor can he use his hands. (This is not a goalkeeper, people.)

Our team is The Middle School All-Stars. Why? I haven’t a clue. We’re all 24+. The team has played together before, so I walked onto the team only knowing one other player. I love meeting new people, so I was very excited at the thought of a team environment in my favorite sport.

However, I left after our first game a few weeks ago feeling extremely dejected. I vented the entire 45 minute drive home to Jolyon, who skipped out on his volleyball practice an hour early to drive downtown to watch me play.

Our team was an army of 17 people for an 8v8 game of 20 minute halves (read: very little playing time). There was little to no communication at the start of the game regarding positions and player introductions (and I was not the only newbie). The game felt more like mass chaos than a soccer game, as substitutions occurred sporadically and it seemed like nobody knew what position they were playing.

I vowed to give it one or two more games before I opted out of the team. The fields aren't exactly close to my apartment (with traffic, it takes me a little over an hour to get downtown) and with rising gas prices, it may not be worth it if I'm only going to play ten minutes of the game.

Well, our second game was rained out, though I didn't know about the cancellation until I was ten minutes away from the field. Thanks to the wonders of Florida summer storms, the weather had been sunny on my end of town while a monsoon ripped through downtown Orlando. It was a bit frustrating, but there wasn't anything I could do except turn around and drive home.

Game three was a complete 180 from the first game. Eight people, including myself, showed up for the 6:30 game... which meant we had just enough to play. It was also the first game of the evening, so we were able to chat amongst ourselves and warm up on the field. It was a relief to hear a few of my male teammates vocalize their nervousness about playing shorthanded, since they, too, were "out of shape." We stated what positions we felt comfortable playing, and we rotated in and out of the "goalkeeper" position when we needed a break.

While we lost the game 3-0, I felt a lot better about playing on the team. I was proud of myself since I hadn't played "on the field" in a soccer game since high school; in college intramurals, I was the goalkeeper. Unfortunately, I injured a player on the other team when we both went up to head the ball... I'm not really sure what happened, but I think my jaw/teeth knock her in the eye. I don't remember. The ref didn't blow a whistle, so I kept playing, though I noticed the injured player stepped off the field for awhile and was holding her head after the game.

Tonight I'm venturing to the Orlando Indoor Soccer Center to try to play in an indoor pick-up game. Apparently, they have pick-up games between 630pm and 830pm on Monday and Thursday nights. James' friend, Lydia, approached me about going with her, and I haven't played indoor soccer in a very long time, though I always enjoyed it better than outdoor. I have no expectations other than to have fun.