Categories
Cities Football/Soccer

Pick-up Soccer Journal: Entry 01.18.2020


We’re playing at a different location today.

After two days of rain the sun is finally showing face. I drive pass the Radha Krishna temple, and the Montessori, hoping I’m not one of the last to arrive (first 22 play). Google maps? That rude bastard. He rides shotgun, but after every sub-division interrupts Andy Brassel’s commentary on Juventus’ historic 2003 semi-final win over Real Madrid.

I arrive on time, but as a group we’re late. Our back-up field is packed with weekend amateurs.

The diligent and disciplined have laid out their cones, set up their goals, and snatched up every free patch of turf.

We sit in the parking lot and argue which field we should play at now. From my car, I see heads nod. Some laughs are exchanged. Our Congress works like Washington’s – slow.

The majority come to an agreement and we drive back to the park we normally play at. The field waits for us, dotted with gulls spearing at worms in the wet soil.

A few of us run through some half-hearted old man stretches. Others chat about their midweek indoor matches. The fights that broke out. The incompetent referees. The games lost.

Alberto and Mo choose teams and we break off.

90 minutes of bliss ahead.


Categories
Art Football/Soccer

News eyes to see

I wanted to snap a compelling picture. Bring an old football boot to life.

This picture had hope, so I showed my boo. She gave it the iphone thumbs up, but her text message that followed made me pause.

“It looks like a heart.” she said.

Suddenly, I was no longer looking at a football boot.

Instead of studs, I saw aortas. Instead of stitching I saw capillaries. Instead of fake leather I saw flesh and muscle.

This is the power of sharing your work. The person you share it with, can let you see through their eyes.

Categories
Football/Soccer Poems

Amateurs

Morning clouds graze east.

Sweat flows from our temples.

We Labor. We Play.

Categories
Poems

An Old Man’s Game

Bengay fills the air.

Mangled meniscus, chilled bones.

Ailments won’t stop us.



Categories
Poems

Track Jackets and Beanies

Frosted morning grass.

Rusted goalposts stand alone.

First twenty two play.

Categories
Poems

Hierarchy of Needs

Hierarchy_of_Needs

 

 

 

Categories
Uncategorized

World Cup Haikus: I’ll Miss…

Ill Miss

Match Day 24

I already miss my first sips of coffee at kickoff with Jorge Perez-Navarro yelling “It’s soooccccer timeeeeeeee.”

I already miss William Carvalho trotting around Portugal’s midfield with a Ballon d’Or worthy stache’

And I already miss Saturday morning pickup soccer. When the World Cup hums on in the background of our lives, we all play with an extra bit of pep.