The title is misleading, but as an 11 year old kid finally getting to play a team sport, I felt like I was a professional. As mentioned in the previous chapter, I had received a birthday present which signed me up for an intramural soccer league. Before this point, I had never played any sport with a coach, an organized team, uniforms, and all that jazz. But now I was going to experience the thrill of sport in its full glory.
Springtime had sprung and the 2002 intramural soccer season had begun. Each night of the week (including Sunday) had a coach and a practice assigned to it. Whichever night our parents put us in was how we ended up with a team. Mine picked Thursday. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe it was dumb luck. But I ended up with an awesome coach and on a team where I made a really close new friend.
My coach's name was Dave. I did not know this before, but he owned the farm down the street from my grandparent's house as well as the storage locker business in the heart of town. He was an older gentleman who rocked a mean salt and pepper mustache. His passion was that kids would learn and fall in love with the game of soccer. While winning was nice, the only thing that mattered to him was if you had fun. Even though we were an intramural league with no playoffs, we were still given uniforms. Each team got a set of shirts with a specific color and ours was maroon. We then had to pick a team name. One kid suggested stewed prunes to be funny. That kid would be the one who became a close friend. After a number of names were suggested, they were put to a vote and by majority, we became the Timberwolves.
"Who were the Timberwolves?" is a question you may have asked yourself a sentence ago. Well let me introduce you. We had two tall kids who I affectionally called the Bash Brothers (a mighty duck reference) called Alan and Chris. They were biological brothers and the oldest kids on our squad. There was Garrett who played as if he was going to make soccer a career one day. Emily had a big smile and sweet complexion, but was always in position to make a play on the field. Cassie was a player who gave her all and could occasionally catch an opponent off guard. Ashley was a soccer player with a rugby build. She was fairly aggressive and it wasn't uncommon to see some smaller boys get out of her way. Jennifer was the gentle giant. Extremely tall for her age and had a look that would make you think twice, but in reality, she wouldn't harm a fly. Cody was what I would call a constant burst of energy. A short-fused rocket that could unleash his fury in a moment's notice. Jason was a hustler who was always making someone laugh and a thrill to be around. And last of the full time players was Jordan a.k.a. "Stewed prunes" kid. Like Jason, he had a great sense of humor and was a dedicated athlete. There were a few other kids who on the team who didn't make every game or practice, but they too contributed to the team when they were around.
I'm not really sure why I out of all the kids I knew that it was Jordan and I who became close friends. Maybe it was his personality, maybe his humor, or maybe it was because we shared similar interests and were close in age. Whatever was the cause, I'm glad I met him. He was always my go-to guy when I needed to dump the ball. We were true soccer bros.
As stated previously, the league was intramural. This, in short, means every game is played on the same location on the same field. There were no standings, no playoffs, not ultimate trophy, but rather a fun league where kids enjoyed playing actual games with each other. Now even with those statutes, kids were still very competitive. We wanted to win, losing could be rough, and since we played some teams multiple times, we created "friendly" rivalries.
My first experience with a fresh rivalry was from my very first game. Remember how I said the reason I was in soccer was because of a birthday present from my buddy Joe? Well we played his team in week one. Another friend of his that I knew was also on that team. His name was also Josh. Josh's mom was that team's coach. She was very intense, enthusiastic, and pushed her kids as far as they were willing to go. They were a really good team. We were a competitive team ourselves so naturally we wanted to win and win big. And this game was a doozy.
The sun was bright and warm for a mid spring day. The atmosphere was electric as the season was just beginning. We took the field filled with excitement as all the parents and younger siblings cheered us on. Coach Dave assigned me to the striker position as my first assignment. As we waited for the ref to blow his whistle, I was giddy with anticipation of an opportunity to score in my first game. A shrill blast was heard an off we went. We gained an early possession but couldn't break the defense. Then came an opening. I made a move and tore off down the field. I was open enough to receive a beautiful pass and began charging towards the goal. As I made a cut that was a bit on the sloppy side, an opponent's leg swung hard for the ball and missed and I suddenly felt like clothes in a dryer. I popped back up immediately and before I could find the ball, the ref let out a blast of his whistle. He awarded me a penalty kick! And the foul occurred inside the goalie box. It was me versus the goalie and I was as close as I could get to a sure thing. I stood a few feet off the ball, staring the goalie down, waiting for the ref's signal. I heard Josh's mom shouting above the noise encouraging her goalie that she could handle this. I saw the nervousness on the poor girl's face. But I was determined to sink that ball in the back of the net. TWEEEEEET! I charged. The goalie barely flinched. I swung my foot with all my might and connected with the ball. The ball weakly rolled to the right and the goalie made the easiest save of her life. My inexperience and overconfidence led to too much power, no aim, and weak contact. Dang. My moment of glory was gone just like that. I had to tuck my head and bolt the other direction as the goalie launched the ball downfield. I can't recall the final score of the game that day, but I remember that they beat us by 3-4 goals. They were better than advertised and with that, a rivalry was born.
Our team slogged through ups and downs that season. We lost more than we won, including some disappointing draws. But I was having fun and realized I had missed out by not joining a team sport sooner. Even with defeat, we were still having fun with each other. A bunch of kids who were mostly strangers before the season began, were now a great group of friends.
Every game came with excitement, some a bit more than others. One game we played in the pouring rain. Kids were sliding, mud was flying, and the ball zoomed around like a greased pig. I drew the unfortunate luck of having to play goalie that game, a position which I was not fond of because I wanted to be involved in most of the action and not be confined to one space. Little did I know that I was going to make the play of my life. In the second half, the rain came down harder. We were deadlocked with neither side giving in. At one point I got bored and looked down. When I looked up, I saw a mob a of kids and a ball coming at me. I thought I was in position to cut the ball off, but was completely out of position instead. My opponent blew by me and had an open net. Oh snap! I was a dead turkey. Instead of admitting defeat, I turned and charged back towards the goal. My legs were burning but I had to do something. My opponent waited until the last second to take the shot. As the ball began skidding across the grass towards an empty net, I gave one last burst, went airborne, arched my body towards the ball, and swung my outstretched arm at its mass. My finger tips connected and the ball careened harmlessly out-of-bounds while my head nearly missed clocking the goal post. I did not realize I had made the save until i got to my feet and heard the cheers of the impressed parents. That moment slightly made up for my blown goal at the beginning of the season...slightly. Another strange thing that happened was that we actually stopped play in the middle of another game because a deer made its way out of the woods and very close to the field. Us kids didn't know what to do, the ref was just as confused, and there were some concerned parents that it would charge. Eventually the ref resumed play and our assistant coach went out and chased it off. There was never a dull moment playing this game.
There is one game from my first season that I'll never forget. It was a rematch against our rivals from week 1. The Saturday it was scheduled for was rudely interrupted by Mother Nature as she sent forth strikes of lightning. Too dangerous to play, the game was rescheduled for a Wednesday evening. The anticipation was killing me. I wanted so badly for a second shot. To make up for my whiffed goal. Wednesday came and the sky was filled with the setting sun. But the atmosphere was different. The Saturday crowd was absent. The only fans were the few parents who made it out for an odd mid-week game. From opening kick-off, the game was intense. Nobody was giving an inch. Both sides were playing as if a championship was on the line. Then we broke through first with a brilliant goal. The celebration was short lived as they answered with a goal of their own. It wasn't long before they put another ball in the back of the net. Their side had a larger support system so the louder cheers made things a bit tougher to handle. But we kept fighting and managed to score to bring the game back to a draw. There were a few more close calls, but we managed to stay even. Then, by a stroke of luck, we scored to take the lead. Our spirits soared as we though we were going to finally get the monkey off our backs. But yet again, our joy was short lived as they answered right away to tie the game at 3-3. The clock was winding down and we knew it. Neither side wanted a draw, but it was going to be more devastating for us to not be able to beat them. But we weren't done until that whistle blew. An errant pass from them sailed out of bounds in their half of the field. We earned a throw-in. The ball came my way and I looked upfield and saw Chris on a break. I quickly sent him the ball. He trapped it, made a move, cut further up field, and took the shot. That beauty of a ball sliced the air for a harmonious sounding swish of the net. I couldn't believe it. The roar heard from our side of the field broke sound barriers. I looked and saw my mom with her arms in the air, excited for us. That moment was glorious. The ref set the ball and gave the go ahead with his whistle. The other team put the ball in play and 30 seconds later, the ref blew his whistle to end the match. We had done it. We beat the best team in the league and it felt like we had one the World Cup. I didn't score a goal, but that didn't matter. We played as a team, we fought as a team, and we won as a team. No hard feelings were felt between the two sides as we gave walked by high-fiving and saying "good game". My buddy Joe smacked my hand pretty hard to let me know that wasn't easy. This is what "for the love of the game felt like." And it was magical.
