If there is one activity where judgment is cold and sardonic, it’s sports. And the most abhorring of all these is soccer. In my life, there hasn’t been anything that was more horribly degrading than soccer. Of course it being an adventure, I couldn’t resist trying this new sport.
I remember making the announcement. It was a memorable day that I’m sure neither my father nor my mother will likely to forget; the day their pathetically nonathletic daughter would play soccer. My poor father received a phone call from his child stating,
“Dad, I need shorts, I’m going to play soccer.”
He was silent for a few moments before slowly asking me to repeat. This was a shock he was not prepared for and I fear the only other news that could have left him so speechless would be the broadcast he was going to be a grandfather. Making a quick trip to Wal-Mart, heading towards the girl section my father swiftly realized, he hadn’t a clue what size or style he should buy the shorts,so he resorted to calling his wife and replaying the information he himself had just received. The line went quiet and after an awkward pause my mother asked for him to say it one more time.
“She’s going to play soccer.”
It hadn’t quite occurred to me until the first game that I had never played a day of soccer in my life. All those practices and run-throughs seemed utterly useless as I had no clue what the rules were or what was expected of me. My limited knowledge made me vaguely aware the object of this brutal and confusing game was to kick the ball into the opposing team’s net. As a defender, it seemed safe to assume my job was preventing our opponents from doing the same. At thirteen years old, being thin and not well coordinated, my ability in athletics was between the grace of a giraffe and the energy level of a panda. I wasn’t fast or strong which meant that I couldn’t play forward because I would be obligated to run and despite the many, many drills we ran, I never seemed to condition myself during practice. Goalie also was not an option as I had a slight tendency to move away from the speeding ball. That left me as left defender. I appreciated this position because in a game, I could stand in one place without moving so long as the ball was on the other side of the field. When it came to the side I was on, I remembered my growing dislike for the sport.
Soccer Strikeout
by Kayla Morales
20