I’ve never been punched in the face.
You’d think it’s something I would be proud of, but I’m not. I’ve had more than my fair share of instances where I should have been punched in the face. When I was a teenager I was stupid and called some kid a “faggot” in front of most of my high school class. It was outside in the parking lot (we didn’t even have to meet there after school!) and he came right up to me and faked his punch. I flinched. He held up. I’ve been an asshole ever since. I don’t even remember his name.
I deserve to be punched in the face.
A few weeks ago I started playing pick up soccer with one of the busboys from the restaurant I work at. I love futbol as much as the next sweaty guy clearing the plates off your table, I’ve just never really played it. Since I’m a natural goalie (RE: out of shape) I figured how hard could it be.
It’s really hard guys.
A 34 year old dishwasher in jeans kicks about as hard as anything I’ve ever been hit with.
The hard part though isn’t the game itself, it’s the environment. I have a weird relationship with people of Latin descent. See, I love their women. Spanish girls are like sunsets. Stunning, breathtaking, and I just love watching them go down. But I feel like me and Spanish guys just don’t get a long. Whether it’s the grill cook at work or the center forward for the opposing team, they just look at me like I’ve wronged their family.
Oh shit was that your sister?
The only other country I’ve ever been to was French Canada (English-speaking Canada is just a clean USA with healthcare). I know a tad bit of French, but even if you don’t speak the native tongue everyone speaks English. When I’m on the pitch Sunday nights, it’s the farthest I’ve ever been from a comfort zone. Literally no English is spoke. It’s as if for 70 minutes I’m the outsider. These guys who probably go about their whole day having to speak my language in a world that has already judged them get 70 minutes to cut loose and not give a fuck about the gringo in net.
And they don’t.
I implore you to come watch a game. When my team shoots at the other goalie, it’s finesse shots. It’s sexy, fun, magical soccer with a twinkle of “don’t give a shit, let’s have fun.” But when the opposing team shoots on me, I’m pretty sure they just shout, “Whoever wants to shoot it as hard they can at the white kid, raise your hand.”
Guy wearing jeans hand always goes up.
I’ve never been punched in the face, but I have been hit in the face from a soccer ball kicked from about two feet out. I’m going to guess the sting is the same. That punch was a long time coming.
A save is a save I suppose.