sweaty soccer saturday

A few Saturdays ago Keith and I went to play around in a field with our friends. Amongst are friends, this is an activity that warrants hours and hours of blissful, childish, forget-all-your-cares, dont-stop-until-you-drop fun. I'm not quite there yet. But as Keith has expressed to me that playing frisbee is his primary love language, I try to muster up all of the grassy, run-around play that is in me. On this particular day, we knew that the soccer ball would be our primary muse, but we (I) didn't necessarily know that there would be an actual somewhat organized game involved (cleats and everything, though I was wearing chacos). It didn't really cross my mind to play... not my thang. But I got coerced into it in the dire circumstances of uneven teams.  So, after not having played a lick of soccer, or any organized team activity involving a ball for that matter, since 2nd grade, I found myself playing a 3 on 3 game with friends who played in high school. Terrifying...but strangely fun. We played again the next weekend. It just might be my new favorite saturday afternoon activity. Bonus: after this game some mexican's asked us to play. So I sat on the bench with the women and chatted en espanol about soccer and pet bunnies.  (from the same roll of film as yesterday's post. I'm loving film...and! Stephen let me borrow his HOLGA this weekend!)

1 comment:

Patrick Sewell said...

Blissful? Forget all your cares? These do not describe my experience with soccer. Childish, however, is apt. For further proof, ask anyone who played with me last weekend.