I can barely move my legs; they hurt so bad. This is somewhat of a wake up call that I need to A. continue my diet and B. exercise. Tonight was our parents vs. kids soccer game with my 8 year old-C. I decided to go all out so I hit the thrift store yesterday and scored an old-school pair of shorts and an Ohio State Soccer t-shirt for $4.50. I finished off the look with a thick white headband from The Walmart.
The Soccer Game
After arriving at the field, I asked my friend to take this picture. Do you like it?
The game began and my main goal was to not get hit in the nose with the ball. Seeing that I have a roman nose, and it protrudes farther than most, this allowed it to be an easier target. And that hurts like mad to get hit in the nose. I was however secretly praying for a concussion as this would afford me 3-4 days off work.
At one point, the boys had a penalty kick. Since I don’t have balls (no pun intended) but wanted to “act the part”, here is how I stood. I look like I’m 80 in this pic from the way I squished my face up. I’m pleased to say I did not get hit in the face…..or balls.
The Soccer Halftime Show
Again, because I could give 2 shits about winning, I thought halftime would be a good time for another photo-op. I now appreciate the cheesiness of sport pictures children have to take. I decided to recreate a few….and someone photo bombed it…..
The Soccer Second Half
The second half began and I was kinda done. I ran for like 3 seconds and suddenly my thighs began to burn. ‘Holy shit, I’m out of shape,’ I thought as I bent over to catch my breath. I don’t even smoke! Like a kid on a road trip, I began to ask the “ref” every 4 minutes how much more time was left. When I was sure we only had 2 minutes, she informed me we actually had 10. 10? What the hell? Here is a pic of her taking a yellow card out of her bra at one point. Hilarious!
To sum up, I am SO BAD AT SOCCER IT HURTS. I am that person everyone doesn’t want on their team. When the whistle blew and the game was over, everyone kept playing. Not me. I was done. I announced the game is over and I would now be the photographer’s (my friend) assistant. Not surprisingly, no one argued being down a whole player as I exited the field. The kids beat us by 1 point….oh sorry….goal.
I do sports. I do sports real good.
