Ouch.

Last night I got home from work and started skipping around the house. Yes, skipping. And giggling, like a school girl. My mom just looked at me. Then asked, "What?"

I had just pulled out my beautiful soccer cleats (and less so beautiful shinguards). I had, had butterflies in my stomach for much of the day, looking forward to the evening. I'd been wondering if I'd be terrible, or get in touch with the ball easily. Would I be so out of shape I'd be sitting on the sideline trying to breathe? Would my back be a problem and I wouldn't be able to really play?

I was so incredibly excited at the thought of standing out on a full-sized green field with full-size nets on both ends and 21 other people on the field. A real match. Referee and all. It was lovely.

Granted, the game it self was anything but lovely. We lost by 5. Yes. 5. I don't mean to brag in this, but I think people fail to understand unless they get this: I used to play for a great team. We competed in Premier 2, which means we were in the second highest level. Premier 1 being girls getting full-ride scholarships to Pac 10 schools. Premier 2 girls typically receiving scholarships to smaller colleges. We were good. Passing was beautiful, games were thrilling, competition was fierce, chemistry was.. science. We weren't the best, but it was a fun team to play with... because soccer becomes more and more enjoyable as your team gets better and better. The game is not what you first think, it is a game as much about what everyone without the ball is doing as the one or two on the ball. What runs are being made far-side, what diagonal plays are being passed, who is making a burst past their defender, seeing a play ahead. The more a team can create, literally a group activity of seeing what isn't yet, the more exciting and beautiful to watch. First, you learn the rules of soccer, and the basic skills, then you learn how to create, together. And that is when you fall in love with the sport. (I know basketball is similar.) There is class in soccer (though there are those who don't know how to play with it).

All that I just described... is not what happened last night. At least not on our team, or even really on the other team. We made them look good. At one moment I laughed, thinking to myself, every single one of these plays would be a "nightmare" on my old team, resulting in people being benched for the remainder of the game, and some serious yelling from the coach... or worse, silence. There's nothing worse than when the coach pulls you out and doesn't talk with you- either he is too upset to speak, or he thinks talking to you won't do any good, or he just knows that you know you've just behaved like an idiot.

I miss that. I miss having a coach... and amazing coach, who would bench people who played liked idiots. Who'd yell at people to hold their positions and stop all turning into Strikers. I miss playing with a team who was looking for the far-side run, and knew that I was going to cross it back.... who knew that my fault was not shooting and they could always expect a last-second pass for an easy flick into the goal from the goalie's back. But moreover, I miss the game, and I miss playing. So if last night is what I'll get, with one or two nice combinations of plays strung together in the front, well, I'll take that... at least for now.

After saying how great my old team was, and how less-great the co-ed team I've just joined is... let me just say, I fall far short myself. I was so out of shape that after a break-a-way, I was nearly too tired to actually get a good shot off at the end. And at one point, sprinting down the sideline with the ball, I nearly fell. Why? Oh, just because my legs felt like jello... like I'd run a marathon. Only, I hadn't.

Lesson? Get in shape Kati.

I think with this new outdoor season, I just might. ;)

Soccer. It is beautiful and thrilling. If you think it is not, hold your tongue, for even a fool is thought wise if he keeps quiet. You just don't know what you are seeing, yet.