It would seem I have been quite woeful in the updating of this blog. Since I perform these updates primarily for my own edification and in keeping with my new year’s resolution, it is all the more shameful for this to be the first post in the month of February.
Once this failing became evident, I felt pressured to come back with something good, something worth waiting for, however, nothing of note came up. (Though, if it did, I’m going with the story of it being either excessively dull or too juicy for public consumption in an attempt to build an air of mystery.) Time passed, and it needed to be even better.
Well, naturally, nothing big happened, and I’m as devoid of deep thoughts as ever, thus here is the gripping recounting of my first soccer goal, as an adult, possibly ever.
It was Monday night, and we were in the sixth game of a thus far 1 and 5 season. We were actually ahead, which tends to lift team spirits overall, an unfamiliar sensation. It being the end of a holiday weekend, I was gamely playing with a headache and slight hangover from having just a bit too much fun Sunday night.
Some average size dude from the opposing team was bringing the ball down the boards toward our goal, and in a surprising show of competence, I managed to strip it away and stay with it on the other side of the challenge. Suddenly, it’s me at midfield in a situation clearly calling dribbling down the pitch. Not a strong point for my game. I managed to stay ahead of the pursuing opposition for a few steps, pass off to one of my own team mates with some precision and prepare to move back to my defensive responsibilities. A job adequately done.
Then said team mate ends up passing back to me around midfield despite the constant evidence that passing to me on purpose rarely produces positive results. I booted the ball back down to the end, where, had there been no goalie present the ball would have likely bounced ineffectually off the wall, a few inches from entering the goal. However, the goalie was there and promptly scooped the ball up. I was in full retreat to provide defense when Andrea sent out an astonished shout that I scored, and everyone began trotting back to kickoff positions. It would seem that the goalie bobbled the ball once collecting it, dropping it into his own goal.
Sure, it’s a stretch to claim the goal as my own, but I’m taking it. Even if I didn’t vastly prefer sticking to defense, it is unlikely my most useful soccer skills of being an obstacle or running a step or two behind incoming opposition would ever result in a goal. Thus, I’m taking it. I am now a goal scorer. Perhaps someday another flash of luck and happenstance might even lead to me being a scorer of goals.
