World Cup Fever
It seems that all the rage is to see how your favorite country is doing in the World Cup competition. The USA, of course, is playing the underdog role, but received a heck of a boost when the goalie from England played a shot as if it were a cannonball.
Been there. Smaller scale, but know his pain.
You see, I've always hated soccer. I hate watching it. I hated playing it, and I really don't get the worldwide passion for it. Yet a lot of Americans have fallen into that boat. We don't treat soccer as well as we do football or baseball or even racing cars around a track. It seems a tad slow, doesn't it?
Oh well, to each his own, my pain runs much deeper.
I played basketball in school. I made the teams each year from 7th grade on and always loved participating. I didn't dominate, but I was there.
Well after one season my coach begged me to go out for soccer as well. Seems he liked having me on the team and figured I could loosen up the troops from my spot on the sidelines. I told him I'd do it under two conditions: 1). I don't run sprints and 2). He is to never put me in the game.
He agreed. He used to tell the other people on the team that I couldn't run because I was having my period, and as the year went on, I had a good time. I was sort of the Waterboy.
But the coach didn't live up to his end of the bargain...completely. We were short players one game and he informed me that I had to play.
I remember the game as if it were yesterday. I got sick of chasing the ball and was standing on the sidelines chatting with some friends.
"Fuzzy! The ball is down there!" Coach yelled.
"Don't worry, it'll come back," I replied.
"Go! Now!"
I never should have headed towards our goal. I was dead center in front of our goalie when the corner kick came roaring near. Pretending I could help, I raised my huge head and made contact with the ball. The goalie, Mike Goo, actually groaned, and the ball nestled nicely into the right corner of the goal as the other team celebrated.
I had scored an own goal.
The only goal I ever scored. Thankfully, the team won seven to one, and there were plenty of laughs at my expense.
Yet the ultimate came the following day as the announcements were read over the loudspeaker for all to hear:
"The North Collins Eagles won 7 to 1 yesterday, but the goal of the game was scored by Cliff Fazzolari who ruined the shut-out in the final minute by scoring for the other team. Nice header, Cliff."
So there. I hate soccer for good reason.
It only hurts when I laugh.
Been there. Smaller scale, but know his pain.
You see, I've always hated soccer. I hate watching it. I hated playing it, and I really don't get the worldwide passion for it. Yet a lot of Americans have fallen into that boat. We don't treat soccer as well as we do football or baseball or even racing cars around a track. It seems a tad slow, doesn't it?
Oh well, to each his own, my pain runs much deeper.
I played basketball in school. I made the teams each year from 7th grade on and always loved participating. I didn't dominate, but I was there.
Well after one season my coach begged me to go out for soccer as well. Seems he liked having me on the team and figured I could loosen up the troops from my spot on the sidelines. I told him I'd do it under two conditions: 1). I don't run sprints and 2). He is to never put me in the game.
He agreed. He used to tell the other people on the team that I couldn't run because I was having my period, and as the year went on, I had a good time. I was sort of the Waterboy.
But the coach didn't live up to his end of the bargain...completely. We were short players one game and he informed me that I had to play.
I remember the game as if it were yesterday. I got sick of chasing the ball and was standing on the sidelines chatting with some friends.
"Fuzzy! The ball is down there!" Coach yelled.
"Don't worry, it'll come back," I replied.
"Go! Now!"
I never should have headed towards our goal. I was dead center in front of our goalie when the corner kick came roaring near. Pretending I could help, I raised my huge head and made contact with the ball. The goalie, Mike Goo, actually groaned, and the ball nestled nicely into the right corner of the goal as the other team celebrated.
I had scored an own goal.
The only goal I ever scored. Thankfully, the team won seven to one, and there were plenty of laughs at my expense.
Yet the ultimate came the following day as the announcements were read over the loudspeaker for all to hear:
"The North Collins Eagles won 7 to 1 yesterday, but the goal of the game was scored by Cliff Fazzolari who ruined the shut-out in the final minute by scoring for the other team. Nice header, Cliff."
So there. I hate soccer for good reason.
It only hurts when I laugh.
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