Friday, February 12, 2010

Those damn gazelles...

It feels so good to play, really play, soccer. Taking the advice of my dear friend Brianna, I suffered through another round of physical therapy this morning. It hurt like the fires of Dantes Inferno, but it is worth every second. I, hold for dramatic pause.. .... was able to sprint down the field tonight! Yes, SPRINT. I'm guessing somewhere around 4 years since that last happened. And even better... dramatic pause again... and crescendo..   ... I sprinted down the field and took the ball from the other players! Ha! I'm slowly but surely finding my way back to me. Ultra competitive, fast, skilled me. Okay, so I'm still about a year away from getting close to my old skill level, but I'm at least on the right path. Oh yea, we lost, by one, and the other team was excessively vulgar and mean. But we played hard, and I didn't even kick the ball once with my right leg. LEt the healing continue!

So back to the vulgar and mean part... One so called woman even had the cowardice to call another of my teammates "white trash" after the game. Oh yes. To her face, to instigate a fight. I was not in ear shot of this or she would have discovered very quickly which Beth on this team can be white trash. I had already deliberately tackled, yes tackled, at full speed, as in football tackle, from behind, the mammoth man who had continued to elbow me, intentionally, in my head to keep me from taking the ball from him yet another time. Yes, you may be humiliated to lose the ball to a girl, but the true humiliation comes in the retaliation, on a girl! Soccer is a rough sport, but intentional harm has no place.... (unless it's me seeking revenge of course, not for harm, but for mutual understanding). So I took this guy down, literally and figuratively. Yes, the ref called me on it. But no, the man did not @#$% with me the rest of the game. And sorry to my teammate Brad who had to have the guy fall right at his crotch as I tackled him into you. :) Nothing but love baby.

So black verses red games are no longer cordial rec team play. It is now an all out war. Especially for me and red team girl number 11, for being a punk @#$ @#$%# and causing problems for my Aunt and cousins on the bench. Suck it up. The soda was two bucks and your Mom is still ugly, inside and out. I nearly put a woman's head through a metal bar for less disrespect. And I'm a pacifist! And to the little worthless blonde that had the lack of class as to call my friend white trash, in front of her kids and husband...  my friend may have the class to walk away from you. But I don't.

 It's on!

 It takes a lot for this enlightened girl to lose it.; but my hair is still flaming red and that Irish strength doesn't lie dormant forever.

So I call out to my fans, my local-ites, save your money for my bail. This game is a rematch March 18th. And that evenings blog may not post if I'm in the slammer.  (Note to self, call all police officer friends and buy beer). Everyone rally in support. No need for fistacuffs, we will settle it on the field. My leg will be all better. And I figure I'll have about 15 less pounds on my frame by then. You think I out ran and tackled you tonight... Let's just hope the plexiglass is truly shatterproof. Hockey is my second favorite sport. And old lady that disrespected my cousin, you are now fair game. Don't piss with my family, especially my boys.

The lion is awake. And those damn gazelles better wake up running.

In strength,

No comments:

Post a Comment