I don’t know a soccer ball from a watermelon.
Well, actually I do. Watermelon’s are pink inside with lots of pips that you can, when the mood takes you, have spitting competitions with. I’m not sure what’s inside a soccer ball but something very hard. I tried to kick the ball back to girls last week as they were kicking them into the carpark during training and er, I hurt my foot and the ball didn’t go very far and on an uncanny number of occasions bounced off the cross bar back at me!
So, as you know, I’ve been tangoing with a tantalising proposition this year. To take up soccer joining your team and potentially humiliate you or not…it’s just attending all those games with you, it looks so fun! Okay, apart from the torn muscles, the soccer ball in the face at close range (ouch!) and the abusive opposition.
There’s the adrenaline buzz, the fitness, the camaraderie, the adoration of your fans on the sidelines (wait a minute, that’s me, right?)
The way I see it there’s only a few things holding me back:
- my lack of fitness
- my long-standing dodgy hamstring
- my age
- my dodgy shoulder
- my now dodgy ankle (see right)
- and my fear (how to face those ‘big units’ especially when they swear like they’ve just got out of the mini-bus from Corio – oops, that’s right, they have…)
So the way I see it your safe. I’m thinking I might get more involved next year with the Surfside Waves in a behind-the-scenes kind of way. Help out in the tuckshop or join the committee – something boring and adult like that…unless of course you want to train me over summer?
Love you, Mum xo