Trifecta

I'm not what one would call a "talented" soccer player. Simply put, I don't have skillz. I never have. Soccer has been my main sport for awhile now, since sophomore year of high school, when I first started playing. Prior to that I had tried just about every sport, with varying degrees of success. Basically, I was pretty athletic, though not particularly skilled at anything. Soccer ended up being a good fit, because I could run fast and wasn't afraid to be aggressive. So I became a defensive specialist, where my job was mostly to stop the other team's offense. And I was good at it. I became team captain, and even went all-conference my senior year.

After high school, I played on some summer recreational leagues, and tried indoor soccer a couple times. Indoor wasn't my thing, because there were fewer players on the field at a time, which meant everyone had to play offense and defense. So I played, and even scored a couple times from sheer luck. But sooner or later I lost interest.

However, I started playing again this past year in an effort to get in better shape (and as an outlet for aggression/competitiveness). As I said, I still wasn't very 'skilled,' which limited my effectiveness. But I've gotten better with each game, and more comfortable trying to play offense. My teams often struggled due to a lack of players, making us play 5-on-6 (or worse) a lot of the time. We had some pretty good players, but having to play all 50 minutes with no substitutes really wears on you, no matter how good you are. For this session, however, our team suddenly has more people. We also imported one player who appears to be the equivalent of Superman, who can score from anywhere on anyone. So things have really picked up. We won our first two games against pretty good teams.

Last night we had our third game. It started out horribly. The other team had a guy (#13, for future reference) that was like the Anti-Superman, with all the powers of Superman, only using his powers for evil, since he played for the other team. For the first half, none of us played all that well, and #13 led them to a 4-1 lead. In particular, I blew some serious goats, including shanking a wide open shot from a couple feet away on a beautiful pass from Superman. That was a great feeling. Again, I felt like my complete lack of technical proficiency had come back to haunt me.

But the second half was another story. When I entered the game, we were down 4-2. Our goalie, hereafter known as Spiderman (due to his quickness, sticky fingers, and general spider-like mutations) was keeping us in the game with some pretty ridiculous saves. He had directed us to gang up on #13, which I made a point to do in the second half. But first, I got down toward the goal, and Superman set me up for another shot. This time I blasted it right into the goalie's face. Frankly, I was surprised they didn't call me for a dangerous ball, because it really was. But the shot, which careened off the goalie's face and into the goal, counted, bringing us to within one goal. Then, about a minute later, I stole the ball from someone, dribbled it the length of the field (pitch, if you're a purist), beat their last defender and drilled another goal to tie the game.

Let me tell you, scoring is an awesome feeling. The whole game stops, the defeated goalie has to retrieve the ball, and you get to do a victory trot back to your half of the pitch. I don't often get to enjoy that feeling, but getting it twice in a minute was amazing. Not to mention shocking.

I left the game shortly afterward, and soon we were losing again. We had one player who, through seeming frustration, would not leave the game, no matter how tired he became. #13 went on a spree, and soon they were up 7-4. Then Superman returned to the game and got us another goal to bring it to 7-5. I returned to the game, and once again made it my mission to shut down #13. I got my chance pretty quickly, when he got the ball at mid-field, one-on-one against me. If he beat me, then he would have had an open run against Spiderman, who, though awesome, would have been hard-pressed to stop #13 without any assistance. Fortunately, I ate that fucker up. I stole the ball, passed it off, and someone else passed to another person who scored.

Not long after, I had another opportunity. Someone kicked it toward #13, but a little past him, so he would have to run to it. I beat him there, drilled the ball away, and once again someone dished it off to someone else who scored. And just like that, we were tied again, and we had all the momentum.

If I remember correctly, the next thing to happen was our tiebreaker. We had a bunch of people on offense trying to make something happen, and I was one of them. Someone passed me the ball, and I had a fairly decent opening, so I fired another shot. The goalie charged at it, but the ball ricocheted off one of the other opponents' shoulder, dropped over the goalie's head, and into the goal.

That's right -- three goals for the Viceman. I don't know how to explain that. But it happened, I swear to God.

We had the lead until somebody slipped past and hit a really tricky shot to tie it up again. But our defense held them, and I'm pretty sure Superman hit the next goal, making it 9-8. I came out soon after that, and in the final minutes someone got another goal to ice the game. We won 10-8. It was fucking fantastic. To know that we beat a good team by coming from three goals down - not once, but twice - and to know that I helped lead the charge each time (despite my staggering incompetence in the first half) was an amazing feeling.

Really, who needs actual skills when you've got luck?