Hi Again!

Hello everybody! I just wanted to apologize for taking so long to post again, I know its been a long long long long long long long long long time (and I’m sure still longer than the amount of time it took you to read that).

The soccer season is over by now, and since starting in July, I would say a 4 month season was plenty. However, despite all the complaining I did about the long practices and endless conditioning, my time has never been as well spent as it was during this season. Monday through Saturday I spent with my team, out on the fields working on drills and running and headers and crosses and running and corners and free kicks, and did I mention running? Back in July we welcomed in the new freshmen after saying goodbye to the old seniors, and rebuilt our happy, misfit, and sometimes dysfunctional family.

In previous years people have said that our coach, Stan, was like the second Uncle of the family. For a long time he was the authoritative leader that was not to be crossed, and even, although we hate to admit, feared by the team. But this year, he listened to what we had to say and what we wanted to change, and went above and beyond to make it happen for us. And in return, we recognized that although some may disagree with his coaching style, none can say that he is not dedicated to each and every one of us as players.

And this year was fun. We were winning, and somehow balancing working hard with having a good time in both our games and practices. With an undefeated record by the end of the season and a conference championship, we were excited and happy and pumped for the play offs.

There are many reasons that I wish our season hadn’t ended as early as it did. Yes, I wanted to win states. And badly. But also, I wanted that for my teammates and coaches as well. Although I probably wouldn’t have admitted it then, I loved spending all of my time with my crazy soccer family. Some of the seniors being a few of my closest friends, I’m sad to be past the last game I’ll get to play with them. But I look back on this season and see an amazing run, with so many high points that they almost completely hide the disappointing lows.

And don’t worry readers. Because next year, we’ll be back.

This Is It.

Since I started high school in 2009, this time of year has meant one thing: play offs. Like the pumpkin pie to my Thanksgiving or the Santa Clause to my Christmas (for those of you who are Jewish or simply don’t practice Christianity, please bare with me for a moment. I urge you to come up with a similar comparison, whether it be with dreidels, jack-o-lanterns, or tooth fairies!), Play offs is the creamy nougat center of my 3 Musketeers Bar (too far?).

            Today we played our first game of the tournament, and are thankfully moving onward. With the beginning of a hopefully long road ahead of us, I couldn’t think of any better way to start it than some pump up music. Here are the top five songs I listen to when getting ready for the play offs. Feel free to agree, disagree, or give back any suggestions you might have. Some of my stuff’s a bit outdated, but has kept me going all the same. To the first steps of a long awaited journey! (And no, I’m not afraid to admit that I feel like Odysseus or even Forest Gump right now. “Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get.”)

1.     Forever- Drake ft. Lil Wayne, Kanye West, and Eminem

2.     I Put on for My City by Young Jeezy ft. Kanye West

3.     Lose Yourself- Eminem

4.     Zombie Nation- Kenkraft 400

5.     Can’t Be Touched- Roy Jones Jr.

The True Holy Grail, Last Hoarcrux, Golden Ticket

Rewards, incentives, motives, prizes…… my life is bloated, bursting at the seams, leaking from the bottom, overflowing at the top with other people’s reasons why I should work my hardest (when honestly, I already am). Most of you out there have been familiar with point systems, privileges such as rewards cards for Walgreens or Frequent Flyer miles at Continental Airlines. Our school has a House system (which extends my delusion that I’m actually attending Hogwarts just a bit farther), which gives points for an assortment of deeds, ranging from community service to Field Day activities. However, every point system can step over the limit (or jump or leap or skip, specifically when someone mistakenly tried to give us House points for donating our organs last year….. long story. But that was more of a hundred yard jump over the line with a pair of moon shoes).

In sports, while incentives can be an excellent source of motivation for your team, can also push the limit. What happened to wanting to win simply just for the rights to sing We Are The Champions at the top of your lungs? Or for the pounding in your chest and the smile that, as hard as you try, can’t be wiped off your face? Like Indiana Jones, true athletes are on a quest. However, we aren’t looking for the Holy Grail, but the big W. And you won’t find it in the prizes or point systems (but feel free to double check). Being insanely competitive (which, as most of you know, doesn’t come in handy when playing friendly games of Monopoly or ping pong), is pretty much enough motivation for me. And I’m not unique by any standards; most athletes can remember at some point in their lives screaming that the “game is stupid” or “someone’s cheating”, because by all means there’s no possible way you could be losing. Although this seems like a horrible trait (and I assure you it can be), I’ve found it pretty helpful in sports. So while your coach’s incentives may be well-meaning, tell he/she that you don’t need them. You simply want to win.

On a separate note, I want to congratulate all you lady hawks out there! Winning CVCs was a major feat, and we couldn’t have done it without any member from the team. We wanted to win, and we did. We worked hard for it and I am so proud of everyone. (Good thing we found the big W hiding in the back of the net). 

FML to BFFL

I don’t understand the people who say that autumn is their favorite sport. Yes, it’s pretty. And yes, there is the bonus of my birthday being on September 9^th (which I’m sure is the real reason that people across the globe love this dreary season). Between the showers of rain that seem to want to make the flowers (still standing) gargantuan monsters and lakes of mud that hide the ugly beasts who cling to your cars with sharpened talons, paralyzing your innocent Prius or Honda CRV.

Practicing sports in the mud isn’t any nicer. True, you get to slide and stomp and splish and splash in the mounds of not-so-chocolatey goodness (if that sounds oddly appealing to some of you). However, no one can argue that they like the feeling of dirt beneath their fingernails (or rather, no one can sanely disagree), or for that matter, in your hair, behind your ears, under your feet or splattered across your face. However, if I’m not here to cheer you up, than what am I doing? And so, here are my Five Reasons Why… that slimy brown gloop is your friend.

1.      For those of you who play sports with goalies, muddy conditions always make it harder for them to be on their game. So shoot! Your BFFL mud has got you covered, you can bet it’s going in.

2.      If you’re feeling slow, Mud has your back. He slows down your opponents and lets you catch your breath, no problem (true, he’ll probably slow you down a little bit too, but he won’t mean too. And anyways, that’s beside the point. Keep it positive!)

3.      If you feel your cleats look too clean and new (making them an envy of the other girls on your team, who therefore won’t pass to you), Mud will give them a good ol’ bear hug and you’re good to go!

4.      Mud loves being the scapegoat. Truly! It’s his favorite role to play. If you’re having a bad game, Mud will gladly take full responsibility, no questions asked. He’s just a good friend like that.

5.      And five, Mud is the kind of friend that will walk you all the way home. He isn’t shy; he’ll walk right up to your parents and introduce himself! He’s polite that way, you see.

Still not convinced that Mud is your friend? Fine, then go buy yourself a Swiffer Sweeper and be done with it. At least I tried… happy fall!!!

The Neon Shoe Issue

Although I just got my shoes last year, and they are not the least bit worn or weathered, I still want a new pair of cleats. If a player from another team decided to try to sabotage me by cutting holes in my cleats and spray-painting them yellow, I would be all the more grateful. Not that I don’t like my current shoes, because they have been pretty good to me, never complaining as I leave my sweaty socks inside them or get turf wedged in between their creases.  But when the mighty mail man (who my dog not-so-secretly despises), drops off a new soccer apparel magazine that has me drooling over the glossy pages. (However, I manage to do so in an elegant, lady-like fashion…)

Now I’m sure most of you know what the neon shoe issue is. Or if you don’t, you can probably guess what it is. Go on, give it a try… no idea?

The neon shoe issue is that when you get neon-colored shoes and play sports in them, people expect you to be pretty good at that sport. I mean, you did by neon shoes.

Okay, now back to me. Because this blog, after all, is about me (see the title if you don’t believe me). As I was flipping through the magazine, drooling a little bit, even getting teary eyed on certain pages (though I’d hate to admit it), I couldn’t help but stopping on the page with all the neon shoes. They are brilliant! Like highlighters that your feet can be cozily wrapped in: purples and blues and pinks and yellows and greens. Every month it seems that Nike out does itself, finding more and more combinations of neons to splash together on a shoe. And can you blame them? They look amazing. I’m tempted to sabotage my own shoes just to get a pair. But then I thought about the reputation they’d get me. I don’t want too high of expectations set for me, and especially expectations made because of my shoes! Some of you out there probably think the whole issue is pretty silly. And it is. But I can’t help fearing the neon shoes, and so I push the magazine away. Plus, Ole Faithful, lefty and righty, are calling me from the mudroom, asking to be rid of little turflets and nasty socks. And so, I walk away.

The Sole Survivor

Yes, the war is over. The battle to the death has come to a screeching halt; the winning gladiator spattered with blood… (okay, maybe I’m taking it a bit too far). But, as sad as it is to say, the Haiku Contest is finally closed. I just wanted to say that I appreciated all of your submissions, and if later on you come up with a winner of a Haiku, feel free to send it to me despite the fact that the contest is over. I love reading them, and although you may not get the tantalizing prize, at least you’ll get the satisfaction of getting a chuckle out of me. Which isn’t hard to do, but I appreciate it none-the-less. So now, what you’ve all been waiting for… the winning haiku!!! As promised, Here is the winning three lines... fifteen words… seventeen syllables… (If I was even remotely tech-savvy I would try to insert a synthesized drum roll here. But since I am not, rest assured that right now I am somewhere banging on my desk, or to my parent’s dismay, maybe even my dining room table.)

            The turf cuts me knees

            What a lovely day outside

            I wish we had grass.

            Although it was an extremely tough decision, this haiku stole the gold. Made the kill shot. Took the trophy. The author was left anonymous, and so I will forever wonder who sent me this delightful poem. (However, the ambiguity of it all adds to the appeal, I think). My favorite part is when the author uses “me” instead of the anticipated “my” in the first line. Whether a fortunate typo or some brilliant word choice, this made the poem made me think of a leprechaun clicking his heels together, like I was thrown into a world where the short man on the front of my Lucky Charms box invites me to come play soccer with he and the other cereal-eating, just-as-animated kids that I see every morning at the breakfast table. This made me think of some possible titles for the haiku, like A Leprechaun’s Dream of Frolicking in the Grass or At Least the Turf Don’t Come Up to Me Shoulders. However, as I am not the author of this poem, we all must be forever guessing. Excellent work Anonymous, please keep writing!

Haiku Contest

Black Under Armour

A hug that trumps one from you

When the rain falls down.

Turflets in my ears,

Sorry, what did you just say?

I couldn’t hear you.

One minute’s alone,

Sitting up on the scoreboard,

With it’s friend, pressure.

I never like it

When the crowd forgets to cheer,

The silence crushed me.

Haikus, haikus, haikus! The only type of poem that can be sane and insane, crazy and tame, silly and serious, all within three lines. 17 syllables. The object of this contest is to come up with the most creative sports haikus that you can think of. Post them in the comments below this entry, or email them to me at goohighschoolsports@gmail.com.

But contests are for competing and competing leads to winning and those who win are winners. And so, there must be a prize (to give to the winners for winning). The Prize: I will post the winning haiku in my next blog entry. So, with that tantalizing reward, create haikus! (But please keep them PG. And on a more serious note, try not to battle to the death on this one. Although I know you all are dying to win, It is not Gladiators.)