About last night...
Oct. 7th, 2005 11:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
starzkiI scored last night! Woo hoo!
In soccer.
It was awesome. I headed it into the goal. Happiness.
Maybe I should go back and explain. I had a game with the Usual Suspects and despite making a few phone calls and begging different people through emails and trying to actively recruit more girls from the game before ours, I was still the only girl that showed up for our team. Which, according to the rules of indoor soccer, meant we had to play down two players: the missing girl as well as a guy as penalty for not having a full team. And we still managed to slaughter the other team 7 or 8 -1. And I scored!
The (former?) Crush was there. Here's why he confuses me. He says things like: "You're the only girl we need, anyway," and, "You're the backbone of this team," and, "You're our whole defense," amongst other terribly flattering things that I feel are real compliments. He's so nice to me. And he alternates between calling me by my first name and calling me "Starz," which (I don't know how they all know to do this, but it always happens) is what every guy who is not interested in me calls me. I guess it's really not that confusing. He's just a nice guy who likes me and likes playing soccer with me, but he's just not interested.
(It was also very cool that when we were shaking hands with the other team after the game, two of their players came up to me and said, "You're an awesome defender." My self-esteem is all high today.)
But the Crush does enjoy winning. I caught a ride back with him after the game and got the whole play-by-play of everything we did along with effusive compliments. That was nice. I'm more of a laid back, cool-if-we-win-but-I-just-want-to-play kind of player. And he broke down every score by every player in detail. It reminded me of a story:
Setting: The women's soccer team is fooling around, playing girls vs. boys in the fraternity soccer 6 v 6 tournament set up by one of the frats. It's not official, just to play a little after our practices and it doesn't count for anything. I'm watching the play and noticing that we girls were trying to set up passing plays and organized runs on the goal. The guys, it never failed, that once one got the ball, they would try and dribble it up through every other player to try and score, himself, on the goal.
Me: (to my friend Joy who is standing next to me on the sideline) The guys seem a lot more interested in just scoring.
Joy: (turns to me with a "I can't believe you're so stupid" look on her face) [Starzki]... They're GUYS!
Me: (falls down laughing).
Anyway, I'm suddenly brought back to why I identify so much as a soccer player. I just feel most like myself when I play. I'm suddenly comfortable in my skin and I feel like I'm just so open to everything. And after I got home and was settling in to get ready for bed, this lovely almost post-coital feeling just washes over me. I felt both extremely excited and incredibly relaxed and chilled out. It's this kind of low hum that drowns out all of the bullshit and is just me being happy. So now when I run and curse my ruined ankles or when I'm trying on clothes and hate the muscles in my legs, I just need to remind myself that it is all so worth it. It is the essential me as happy.
In soccer.
It was awesome. I headed it into the goal. Happiness.
Maybe I should go back and explain. I had a game with the Usual Suspects and despite making a few phone calls and begging different people through emails and trying to actively recruit more girls from the game before ours, I was still the only girl that showed up for our team. Which, according to the rules of indoor soccer, meant we had to play down two players: the missing girl as well as a guy as penalty for not having a full team. And we still managed to slaughter the other team 7 or 8 -1. And I scored!
The (former?) Crush was there. Here's why he confuses me. He says things like: "You're the only girl we need, anyway," and, "You're the backbone of this team," and, "You're our whole defense," amongst other terribly flattering things that I feel are real compliments. He's so nice to me. And he alternates between calling me by my first name and calling me "Starz," which (I don't know how they all know to do this, but it always happens) is what every guy who is not interested in me calls me. I guess it's really not that confusing. He's just a nice guy who likes me and likes playing soccer with me, but he's just not interested.
(It was also very cool that when we were shaking hands with the other team after the game, two of their players came up to me and said, "You're an awesome defender." My self-esteem is all high today.)
But the Crush does enjoy winning. I caught a ride back with him after the game and got the whole play-by-play of everything we did along with effusive compliments. That was nice. I'm more of a laid back, cool-if-we-win-but-I-just-want-to-play kind of player. And he broke down every score by every player in detail. It reminded me of a story:
Setting: The women's soccer team is fooling around, playing girls vs. boys in the fraternity soccer 6 v 6 tournament set up by one of the frats. It's not official, just to play a little after our practices and it doesn't count for anything. I'm watching the play and noticing that we girls were trying to set up passing plays and organized runs on the goal. The guys, it never failed, that once one got the ball, they would try and dribble it up through every other player to try and score, himself, on the goal.
Me: (to my friend Joy who is standing next to me on the sideline) The guys seem a lot more interested in just scoring.
Joy: (turns to me with a "I can't believe you're so stupid" look on her face) [Starzki]... They're GUYS!
Me: (falls down laughing).
Anyway, I'm suddenly brought back to why I identify so much as a soccer player. I just feel most like myself when I play. I'm suddenly comfortable in my skin and I feel like I'm just so open to everything. And after I got home and was settling in to get ready for bed, this lovely almost post-coital feeling just washes over me. I felt both extremely excited and incredibly relaxed and chilled out. It's this kind of low hum that drowns out all of the bullshit and is just me being happy. So now when I run and curse my ruined ankles or when I'm trying on clothes and hate the muscles in my legs, I just need to remind myself that it is all so worth it. It is the essential me as happy.
