"So, are you going to ask me for my number?" "... Maybe later."

The White Eagles officially got our asses handed to ourselves playing a division one team on Sunday. We lost 18-1. I managed our only goal, and barely. I shot it awkwardly at their goal, and my own teammate was the only person in the way. With a quite audible grunt, he leaned to the side and back, allowing my shot to go in.

On the upside, that's the second team we've played where we've been hideously outmatched but still managed to not get shut out, I guess.

Though I did find it fun telling people optimistically that the score was 18-1, and then asking them to guess how many goals I got.

The game itself was a joke. We had two subs, so I ended up playing about 40 minutes. I was caught on many, many 1 vs. 3s, and my team was able to create none of anything that gave us a chance, except a corner kick which I got my goal from.

One of the boys said later that I was the best player we had. That was nice.

The Team Gigantic game the next night was one I'd say we were more likely to win, until I walked into the dressing room of eleven men. Normally this would not be a problem, for a men's team, but we have a co-ed team. I had maybe 12 minutes play time, maximum. I played the first half as a midfielder, where I felt somewhat ineffective. For the second half, I switched to striker, and I was really able to make a mess of their deep passing in my usual free role. I didn't manage to have anything amount to anything other than getting kicked hard in the stomach while running by somebody and a bunch of steals, unfortunately.

We lost 4-1, ending our hopes to be the Christmas tournament champions.

We have to figure out a way to downsize the team next time. It was nearly impossible to establish rhythm, as you were off three minutes after you went on, and then you'd wait 10-13 minutes to go back on.It didn't help that you'd be on with different people most times, either.

Ahh well.

Hey Tony, you big goomba! (Say it with an outrageous Italian accent and you can come for a jeering)

A goomba of the critically acclaimed Super Mario Brothers Movie.

I actually woke up early today. At seven. But that's all going down the drain as it is almost five in the morning.

Believe it or not, I got sick for the hour of the game today. However, Guy Van Gogh was around to stand in for me. It's a shame, I was itching to play with Guy, too. It was especially painful to not play, as we were facing old rivals - Tony's Academy Autobody (the team from the business). They are Italian. They have beaten us one or two games, while we've beaten them once, in the important league cup last year.

After the game, Guy told me all about it. He was playing defense, and got scored on twice quickly. This dampened the spirits of our team, though it hadn't helped that they had far too many men to play with any sort of individual consistency. They picked us apart, and we lost 7-2.

Guy almost had a couple goals, and he nutmeg'd the biggest asshole on the pitch, (Big old fuck) who just wouldn't shut up. After he got tripped while chasing down another player, he raced to catch up but ended up knocking over a girl. For the second time that match. Which earned him a yellow card and two minutes in the box where Big old fuck jeered at him. Guy got a bit snarky, but mildly, and not noticeably.

Guy had a bad game. Maybe it was the jet (?) lag, coming from Austria and all. He also tells me that he has a new rival, in the form of Tony's Academy Autobody, the team. I know, it makes little sense. At least he meg'd that guy.

Tomorrow he's in Australia for an "Australian Super Cup" game against the "Brisbane People". Sometimes I think he makes these things up. Apparently, Austrian teams are allowed to participate in the Australian competitions, because of the similarity in country names. Who knew.

At any rate, we've to go do the usual jeering at Tony's Academy Autobody (the store) some time soon. It's a tradition. I'll have to take Stephen and Carissa before they leave to return to Ontario in a few days.

Maybe you should worry a little more (Maybe you should drink a little less)

My dreams are all extremely weird. I had one zombie dream a night back, and tonight it was ghosts in a setting that could be straight from a bad show on the Showcase television network.

And then a week ago, I had a dream where I was being attacked by these miniature yeti-like creatures.

A few days ago I did hours of work on my left foot, turning, and ball control. I feel a lot more comfortable on my left now.

Yesterday both Team Gigantic and the White Eagles played. The Team Gigantic game went well, I played defender, switching off with Jay. I felt I did a lot of work, making a lot of very forward runs. I assisted a goal that looked a lot like the first goal and somewhat like three of the other four Manchester City goals, take a look here. If you didn't see the game, you missed a good one.

I made a lot of other forward runs like that, occasionally getting caught up. When I was on, however, nobody scored on us, and we ended up winning the game 7-2. In the dying seconds, one of their teammates had a breakaway, and by the time he was in our attacking third, he was already ten meters or so ahead of me, as I had ran up with the ball not a moment before. I chased at full speed, and ended up hitting the ball away from him and then turning around and taking it to the other end, completely screwing up a pass to Stephen. It was fun, though. Especially to play with Carissa and Stephen again.

The Eagles game was ten minutes after the end of the other, and on a different field, so I was a bit late. I arrived ten minutes from half time to the White Eagles game, and we were down 7-0. We finished the game with a 9-1 loss, according to the scoreboard, but I think the timekeeper fudged it down a couple goals. I did manage to score with my left foot, and I was able to dribble around a few of their players. They were a decent team with a lot of combination play, a couple really good players, and excellent movement off the ball, and my team had a bad tendancy not to mark goalside. A lot.

My goal was one that would've been frustrating had I not got it, I headed a long cross just wide, off the boards, then trapped it on my left foot a couple meters from goal. It took a second, but I fired it with my left foot and in. It kinda felt like I had an overly long time to take the shot, their defense probably slackened up on me a bit, though I don't doubt that they'd have wanted the shutout.

If the dying seconds of this game, there was a 2-1 on our net, so I raced back and cut out the pass, vaguely similar to what I had done earlier that night. I ran in the corner for the ball with some guy, he ran in pretty hard too, and we collided and both hit the boards. I felt it was intentional, but it may've not been. We both went down, I hit my hand against the boards really hard, and from the sounds of it, he pinched a nerve. I didn't like this guy for showboating around my teammates already, so I was kind of angry about it. I didn't check to see if he was good, and looking back on it, I should've.

But everybody had fun.

I was sent here to spy on god

If you're wondering about today's title, about a week ago, an older homeless-looking fellow of "66 years and 4 months" came into the bookstore that I work at and began ranting about how god is actually the devil and that he was sent to spy on Him. He proceeded to buy a highlighter and then tell me about how he wasn't crazy. To each his own as far as regilious viewpoints go, but this guy was certainly out there.

I slept in for a game today. I actually slept for over 12 hours, probably because I had very little sleep the night before. The game was at 6 PM. I'm talking post meridiem here. I woke up at 6:15 and tried to catch what I could of it. I missed sign in, so I was out of luck. They lost 8-2.

Then I tried to make it to a game for my co-ed team's B-team. I got there, and began suiting up, as we had one male substitute. Unfortunately, my team's manager wouldn't let me, because of it being our B-team, and the league specifically said that Jay and I weren't allowed to be on it. I'll take it as a compliment, I suppose. The team convinced me to dress and play anyway, so I did. Ironically enough, I got ordered off by none other than Jay, who was on the field. That team lost 3-2.

I suppose today just wasn't my day for all of that. But, in order to fix my schedule, I'm going to stay up today, and both start and end my Christmas shopping.

Merry Christmas everybody! I've a game on Boxing Day, so I'll let you know how that goes. For now, I've some extra time as the tradeoff for sleep, so I'm going to wash in my brand new pomegranate and mango soap.

And yes, I am as excited for that as you are.

Bend it like Bentham

http://soccernet.espn.go.com/players/stats?id=4780&&cc=5901

(In case you're not in the know.)

Practice today was alright, but I arrived late because my shoes had broke the night before. I picked up a new pair of Nike Tiempos, shown below.

These are the spitting image of my new shoes, except mine are for a hard surface as opposed to turf. Also, mine are beige instead of white. I quite like both the look and feel of them.

After picked up my shoes, I headed to a nearby White Eagles practice. As always, everybody was scrimaging. About five people from the White Eagles were there, and they made up one team. The other team was somes guests we have playing in the Christmas tournament. I played on that team.

I scored a small bagfull (including one where I actually out-muscled somebody, which never happens), and eventually we did the typical "last goal wins" to finish the practice. One guy, one my team, got a moderately hard shot in the region, and went down. We finished the game, and as everybody left the court, the guy was at the shooter's throat. I separated them.

Then after, while getting dressed, the went at it again. I separated them once more, and told them not to back talk. They did anyways, so I gave up. They even wanted to take it outside. Jesus. I thought we were on the same team. I don't think they ever did.

In the shooter's defense, I think that other guy took it a bit far, and the shooter was just standing up to his aggresion. A general tip; never to beat the tar out of the team manager. I wouldn't be surprised if he were axed for the Christmas tournament. At all.

I arrived at the Team Gigantic game jut a couple minutes early to a relatively barren dressing room. We started the game with one sub, but our rank eventually grew. I ended up scoring on a pretty nice volley, but we still lost 3-2. Yet again, another team we could've beat. I came close to tying the game up when I held off another guy and had a shot, but my angle was too sharp and it was unfortunately saved. I had a really good game though, I felt that my vision for passing was fantastic today, as well as shot blocking. For the first time, I'm seeing improvement.

I think a lot of this is due to the amount that I've been playing, and partially to Fury. Those guys have taught me bucketloads.

Though I didn't show much improvement when I took a very scoreable free-kick and wasted it, failing to bend it like Bentham.

I'll yell at who I want when I'm driving this car

My sleeping schedule can be officially considered messed up. Now that school's over, I'm getting the proper amount of sleep, but I'm sleeping from mid-morning to suppertime, and I can't seem to fix it. Maybe one of these days.

Today we had a game that I didn't hear about until 5:30, when I woke up. Jahan called to tell me we had a game pushed backwards a day, to today at 6:30. I had no equipment, so I ran home from Keeley and Alaina's house, where I am housesitting, and got some. I was late, but still ended up playing a lot. I assisted a goal and did some other things, etcetera, etcetera. I need to work on my defensive positioning, though, I think. I let some passes occur that shouldn't have, but I'm still not sure about our defensive system. I often pick up the man on the left attacking, but when the ball goes to the centre, I try to mark that too. There's too much confusion to whether we're doing zone or man marking, as well.

After the game, I met some of the people on good old AFC Soccer, including my strike partner, Ehsan, who I was playing against. I thought the invite had just been to that one game (which I missed), but turns out I'm on board permanently now. Cool, I guess I should figure out when the next game is. I'll do that right now. Oh, 9:30 January 5th. Excellent. That's... Seven teams? I'm having trouble keeping track, honestly. Flood Minotaurs, Balls in the Ayer, The Beans, Team Gigantic, Fury, AFC Soccer, and White Eagles. Let's not forget the occasional standing in for Creepers and Wannabees with the Winnipeg Rec League. Still, oddly, it's not enough.

Tomorrow's game with Team Gigantic is at 6:00, and then I think I'll head home for a bit. I have a practice before that though, at 3 for the White Eagles.

Wow, that might've been the entry that took the most time to write so far. Course, it'd have been quicker had I not watched a movie and played rock band.

I signed up as Dr. Sergei McButters

Tuesday night, I ended up working for four hours, and playing soccer for two of them. This was fun but exhausting, as I had two and a half hours or so of sleep the night before. The Beans lost 5-3, and I had to play a lot of defense. The Creepers (Mike's team), the next team I played for, lost 4-2, but I scored one and then set the other goal up. The set up was actually nicer than my first goal, which was a gift by all accounts. The goal involved me just running at a loose ball in front of their net, and none of their defenders attacked me. We were attacking with 2 against 1, and I drew the defender and the goalie at me. I then passed it for my partner right in front of the net. At another point that game, I wiggled through three people with the ball, Jay-style. It was pretty nice. And some girl fouled me pretty viciously in the box, but as ref, I can't call things done to myself, it's just not in the cards. The foul involved me re-injuring my toe, but it's healing faster and faster every time I re-injure it, thanks to scar tissue, I would assume.

At the end of the last game, which was the finals for indoor, both teams (The Flood Minotaurs and Balls in the Ayer) asked if I wanted to play for them next season. I was flattered, so I said yes. To both of them. I'll work it out when they play each other, even though I've devoted myself to one already. I could switch at the half. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. With both those teams, The Beans, that makes three that I'm officially on in the same league. Not counting The Wannabees or The Creepers, which Mike gets me to play for occasionally. This is a good thing though. It means getting paid for a lot of soccer while working. Granted, the league covers one fee for me, so I'll have to pay for the registration in a couple more teams than planned, but seeing as I'm paid to be there, I'll make the money I spend to be on the teams up in a couple games.

I will be on six teams as of the start of the next year.

Oh, and I got in a car crash earlier. What a way to top bad motherfucking year, I can't wait for it to end. I was about to merge when the guy well behind me and in the other lane sped up, so I couldn't. There was a parked car and ice in front of me. I jarred the wheel, right and managed to mount a huge snow drift just to the right of the car, but my side mirror was clipped off and my window imploded all over me. I stayed calm. I'm not sure why. I'm physically fine, but I'm hoping I can get my car back. Luckily for me, the lovely Edwards family offered me use of one of their cars while they're in Hawaii. That, and a house. I promise not to crash either of them.

I wish there were such a thing as a bad year though, because then this one would be officially said and done with in a couple weeks. Unfortunately, this bad streak could finish at any time, whether tomorrow, or weeks, if not months from now. Thankfully, I've many great friends to keep me occupied, happy, and in a state of non-psychosis.

My spirit animal is the mole. I like to dig.

Last we left off, I was going to pull an all-nighter Thursday night for an ill-prepared for exam Friday morning. After my blog post, I went to work, then for coffee with Keeley. I told her of my venture and she offered her house as a sanctuary, which I gladly agreed to. I stayed up all night reading a textbook for organizational psychology, then went and took the test. I did well enough. I went to the university bookstore and chatted up some friends, then fell asleep in the break room, waking up less than two hours later to one of our managers walking in, not noticing me on the makeshift couch. I scared her, accidentally. Then again, I frequently scare them by coming into the back room and speaking, so this doesn't surprise me.

After going for a shower in the athletic centre, I went back for another nap, this time on a pile of shirts in our storage room. I blent in quite well, apparently, and scared one of my coworkers. I think another walked in at one point and didn't see me whatsoever, either. I suppose I'm a master of stealth. After that nap, I found some pals and we ended up chilling and walking for a while, grabbing food in the process. I went back to work for the unavoidably lame Christmas party, and then left for Keeley's again, afterwards. Once there, I fell asleep for literally a minute, and all my tiredness had been quite literally erased. Unfortunately, my good friend Rob had a show he wanted to go see with me, but it had already been well underway, possibly over by the time my nap was finished. Sleep is an interesting thing. I'd study it, possibly.

I fell asleep at 5 the next morning, waking up at 3. Keeley, Alaina, and I hung out with Dan , Anah, and Matt until the ten o'clock game. We played a computer game called F.E.A.R., and after a rat (which I mercilessly blasted to pieces) defied physics and threw a garbage can at me, a crow decided to fly out from some boxes (I managed to pick it off mid-air), and a creepy little ghost girl decided to crawl at me inside a ventilation system, we called it quits. I fired several shotgun slugs in her ghastly direction throughout nervous laughter, then I decided to throw a grenade at her. Bad idea in a ventilation shaft.

It's freaky, but not zombie scary. Why do I watch these things are 4:40 AM?

The game was about as frustrating as they get. That being said, I kept my cool. We were fouled a lot, and the opposition played ridiculously defensive. I made more pass interceptions than I can remember in all of my games in recent memory, but we were just unable to beat them. They had a pile of lucky breaks, and most of our skill was rendered useless by bad luck (and one particularly bad touch by me). We had the ball in their half for 70-80% of the game, but somehow still lost 3-2. I suppose their lazyness in keeping one man back by their goalie proved an excellent device for stopping our predominantly counter-attacking play.

Sunday afternoon, I woke up once more at Keeley and Alaina's, going to practice at two for the White Eagles. Before I left, though, the Edwards' had a present for me, in the form of an absolutely stunning purple dressshirt and a couple pairs of cufflinks. Santa uses the same wrapping paper as them, who knew? I'll upload a picture of snazzyness soon, but I seem to be incredibly busy the next few days, as is the story of my life.

Practice was just a huge amount of scrimmaging, and the boys are really showing signs of brilliance, such as a through ball that met me right near the goal for an amazingly well-played tap in. Kudos to Oscar for that one, I hardly did anything for it. After practice, I went to a tiny party Colleen was holding with a few of her friends, and conducted an episode of Gingerbread Theatre to a four year old named Ethan. The topic of the theater was the recession we're in, and near the end of the play, Ethan asked "Are you done with him?" about the snowman (and lead character) that I had promised he could have beforehand. Unfortunately, young ones are not so keen on educational theater.

That'd be a bad way to go, just chillin' in a dumpster like that.

Last night's journey home was a bit of a gong show, though a fun one. Here is a recreation my route home, notably out of the way. And each square on the map is a square mile. I went just over 18 miles out of the way.


The night before last, though, involved two games. One was with the Wannabees, and the other was with a team called Illusion, that needed a goalie.

As per usual with the Wannabees, we lost. 8-1. I scored our only goal, which was a rebound of my own shot that I just blasted in from close range. I got close a few other times, after running through the entire defense myself. I had some defense-splitting passes that went nowhere, but really, it was much of the same with them. They were tired though, we had no substitutes.

With Illusion, it seemed like my crossing/long balls were incredible. I must have put every cross I sent in on to my target's head or within feasible distance of, and I must've put about 5 or 6 of them into the box. Of course, nothing ever came of it, but it was still quite fun to see this happen. Now I'm not sure if I want to be a crosser/free kicker, or one who attacks the balls from the crosses and free kicks. It's all so fun.

Other than that, there's really not much to mention, other than a few good saves I made. I think the number was three. One was a really awkward deflection that I somehow got a hand on, another was a breakaway stop, and the last was a tip away for a ball that was going to the top corner, after I was caught way out of position.

My next game is Saturday, though, and I have my final exam tomorrow, which I haven't started learning the material for.

Time for an all-nighter.

"Rinse the spout so you don't get hepatitis" "It's my own bottle" "...Or poopmouth"

The double header originally planned for yesterday didn't go as well as planned, I ended up leaving the Coverall at 7:20, which might've got me to the game with five minutes to spare. I decided not to bother.

The game at the coverall went well though. We had five men for three positions, so a lot of the guys got pretty tired, including me. We did, however, put a hurtin' on the other team with some really good passing and movement and tight defending. We lost control in the second half due to fatigue, but ended up winning 5-4. I had a sloppy tap-in goal to an almost open net, and I had an assist by nutmeg which was pretty neat.

After the game, I picked up Keeley, and we met up with a good portion of the rest of the team at Dan's for the previously mentioned zombie-fest. At first, I squirmed and screamed quite a bit, but it got better over time.

The idea behind the game is that you're in a large, open house with horribly-boarded up entrances. Zombies come to the windows and rip boards off, then hop right into the house for a party. When you don't have a house full of zombies, you run from window to window, shooting what you can before it makes its way to the house. If none are outside the window you're glancing out of, run to the next.

This is where I almost lost all bodily functions. I ran to a window, scan outside, and get ready to run off, when this zombie, from out of nowhere, hops over the barrier and starts trying to eat me, so naturally, I screamed, kicked the air with both feet, and flailed my arms like I was in a roller coaster that I was desperately trying to make artificially enjoyable.

"I brought pot-stickers!"

Thankfully, Dan was close behind me, so he blew it's bloody head off.

Keeley and I went back to her place, talked until four, then slept until we went to a lovely restaurant named Stella's for brunch. I feel a feedbag coming on.

Stella's oatmeal, baked eggs, and Mexican breakfast:

- Oatmeal 5 gullets satisfied - Bliss.
- Baked eggs 4.5 - Delicious and cheesey, but can not be given five stars due to the immense awesomeness of the oatmeal. Imagine an egg dish with cheese baked into it.
- Hash browns 4.8 - Beautifully spiced.
- Mexican breakfast 4.3 - nice, flavorful, but slightly unconventional as breakfasts go. Regardless, an excellent dish.

Also worth noting: Their jam and salsa are both remarkable.
The bottom line: I challenge you to find a better breakfast in Winnipeg.

Later that night, I went to Colleen's "I'm temporarily back in Winnipeg" party. It was great to see her, but the low point of the night involved Brenden's Liberal party pals dog piling me for calling the coalition government silly and undemocratic. I ended up watching cage fights for a lot of the night, and I don't like cage fights. Colleen and I are going to spend some fun time together, rocking out and such, so all is nowhere near lost.

I challenge you to refute my ideas rather than insult myself and a fantastic beverage mix.

My pal Jordan and I were bored yesterday at about midnight, so he started getting strange ideas. He wanted to get up to some general mischief, but I vouched against it, when suddenly, he had an amazing idea.

He wanted to go tobogganing. I told him that this was excellent, and that I'd try to round up some people for midnight tobogganing. I didn't, so it was just the two of us. The liquor stores were closed, so we ended up drinking a tiny bit of rum I had, and split half a bottle of strawberry zinfandel wine that my mother had declined to drink, judging by the dust on it. It did the job sloppily.

Until close to four we had tobogganed, using a box I had lying around, a piece of cardboard, and a sled-like thing that Jordan purchased from Walmart, where we tried to convince a girl that started talking to us to come. She didn't.

It was all truly hilarious, and the night went quickly. I got home and slept until two, and since I've been cleaning and such, but I've got to bounce as I have a double header to be off to.

As usual, I'll let you know how it goes, as well as the zombie-fighting at Dan's later tonight, if my night goes that way.

"I thought you were going to say you'd wipe my butt"

The practice that Jahan had arranged today was canceled, due to lack of a gym. He had said that something was arranged, but it fell through due to the community centre that we'd be at not having any space - I ended up playing wuzzler (known as foosball or table football, but I refuse to call it that, preferring the Austrian name) with my team of three old foreign guys for half an hour.

The bunch of us then went to the Highlander, where my game would be, and we watched a premier division game with some guys from the best team in Manitoba, Lucania, against some other guys. On the team of "other guys" was a familiar face - a man some may remember from the Coverall Spring Indoor Championship game who was running around kicking boards out of frustration at half time, when we were up a few goals and shutting them out*.

I have a video, I will post the funny bit it when my dad finds it on his computer.

The Eagles game was very close (and against the top team), but we lost 1-0 to a free kick goal from a bad handball that our goalie normally would not have given away. I had a few headers, none on target but all threatening, and a couple shots, one on target. Unfortunately, I was not playing to nearly the standard that I should've. Either I lacked vision, or nobody got open for me. I think it was a combination of both, but I think my vision was still very sub-standard, and most of the problem.

I had one piece of creativity, where I wall-passed it to a teammate, and received a nice little return pass. Of course, I failed to make anything of it. I seem to be in a slump with the White Eagles, at least.

After the game, the team had a chat in the dining area, and as it turns out, a few of the player's girlfriends were able to pick out which one my mom was last game, due to her swearing whenever I got fouled or hit, and her usual restrained gasps of cheering whenever I had the ball.

I should get studying for an exam tomorrow. All-nighter time, possibly, as I haven't started due to generally being busy, and I normally fall asleep at 4:00 AM these days anyway, partially thanks to this blog.

Friday, I've two games, back to back - unfortunately, I will be missing half of one. Turns out, the team I'm helping out, AFC Soccer, is playing the indoor counterpart of Germania, which has a few people I know on it. After that, I think a few of my friends were going to play some Call of Duty, unlocking zombie mode.

I screamed yelped a few times watching this. I think "Nacht der Untoten" means Night of the Undead...

This is significant, as zombies are my worst fear. I'm not joking in the slightest, either, and I do know that it is wholly irrational. Should I be excited to slaughter them, or fearful with having to deal with them? At any rate, I'm thankful that part of the fear has subsided since my worst bout of it. I was at my sister's apartment the first time she lived in Edmonton, and it was the night after I had seen the new version of Dawn of the Dead. I watched the only entrance to the living room quite intently all night, and there had to be at least eight hours of straight zombie-watch. I had to catch a flight back to Winnipeg at 9 or 10 in the morning, so I did, and when I got home to Winnipeg, my mom gave me sleeping pills to knock me out. I finally succumbed to the pills an hour later.

Those things just give me the heebie jeebies. I've been handling it really well, too. Up until around the time that I stopped having to deal with my last girlfriend, I was looking over my shoulder whenever that word was mentioned. Since, I've been a monolithic tribute to fearlessness. Until I watched that video.

* - I now refer to this man as "Big old fuck". See this post for details on why.

Today's title is too explicit to be today's title

Today was nice.

I hardly did anything, aside from work, play soccer, sleep, and drive my busted car, Boris, to a repair shop.

It was all so nice, I feel like just curling up in my bed right now and falling asleep. For you, however, I will stay awake.

I forgot to mention that I did something to my right foot's big toe last Sunday, probably a sprain, which put my right foot in bad shape for passing and shooting. It wasn't too bad, I managed to use my left foot quite a bit.

At work, I ended up playing two of the four games. The first was with the Beans against the mighty Wannabees, and there's not much to talk on there. They added to their squad, and the combination of that, smaller nets, and a smaller gym, made it harder to score on them. We ended up winning 4-0, and I scored the first goal off a breakaway that I had oodles of time during. I set myself up bout 8 feet from the net, waited, waited some more, and then tucked a shot in the top left corner. A lot of my other time was spent passing and setting up, but a lot of it was fruitless, due to the aforementioned small nets.

But the second game I played was with Mike's team, the Creepers. If you recall West Winnipeg United as a team I had a half-game for, a lot of the guys I played with tonight were from that team. We were against the Flood Minotaurs, a team that had asked me to play for them next season, before the start of the match. I obliged, it should be a good time. They're a fun group of really skilled players, and currently sit second in the division. I'm excited to play for them. It brings my team count to approximately six, possibly seven.

During the second game, I had what was definitely the goal of the year for myself. I had a defender on me, and I was against him and the goalie. The ball was bouncing, and the goalie was out of his net, so I chipped him with my left foot as the ball bounced around. The ball landed just in front of the net, and then bounced to the top corner. Almost a fluke, but intentional.

Kind of like this, except the ball was bouncing, and I sidefooted it.

At another time, a pal from the Minotaurs had me against a corner with another one of his teammates. This guy's great, too, in all aspects, and I want to say his name's Michael, but I can't, because I haven't officially been introduced to him twice over*. I do remember that his last name is Collins, though. Oddly enough, I still can't find him on Facebook. At any rate, I was in the corner. I looked down, and saw his legs in a compromising position.

Fast forward to 2:12-2:19 to see what I did.

I felt like God after doing that, even though my team lost 4-1. Also, I'm getting much better at blocking shots and jockeying. And i can actually shoot with my left foot now, apparently.

* - It is a little-known fact that you must be introduced to me twice in order for me to remember your name, with a few exceptions.

You're a regular Heinz fifty-seven.

It's funny, the roles you play in different teams.

For White Eagles, I'm a coach, and somewhat of a leader.
For Team Gigantic, one of a few leaders, and I'm pretty loud.
For The Beans, I'm somewhat reserved, and I keep quieter than usual (especially when focused).
For Fury, I'm the young, energetic, positive, but not relatively skillful player.

The baseline of my temperament remains the same: I am generally quiet when I am focused, non-confrontational, supportive, and understanding. I find it odd how who you surround yourself with affects who you are, and even how you play.

Generally, my play style is to defend deep, and offensively run hard, get open, and try to catch the opponent on the break. I am a counter-attacker. I try to play like this for Fury, but with more defending, and much more play making (due to the small gym size, opponents get back quickly). With Team Gigantic, I play like this, but with a lot of counter-attacking. Perhaps it has something to do with field size, but I do prefer the Coverall for my attacks. With the Eagles, I try a lot more linking up and third-man running type play, because I feel we need that sort of support in the midfield. For The Beans, counter-attacking is difficult in the gyms, like with Fury, so I try a lot more play making.

Maybe it's not the team, but perhaps field size? Most likely both - I recall playing as a central defender for Eagles outdoor, and a counter-attacking striker for Team Gigantic outdoor.

At any rate, my conundrum still continues about where my best position is. Some say striker, others say attacking or defending midfield. Others say second striker, others say on the wing. Who knows.

Fury scraped a win tonight, with a scoreline of 5-4 against a really good team of fit, young, physical, skillful players. I scored our first by managing to get behind their defense unnoticed to slide the ball in the net, but I was at fault for one of their goals, and partially at fault for one of our own (the ref missed a call, everybody stopped, the ball was taken from me). I did help set up a couple others, though, and I think I learned a lot that game about defending, particularily against strong players with good moves.

Jahan, our team's captain, coach, and league manager, invited me to play at an indoor field close to my own area of the city country, called Skylight. I did a bit of schedule research, and that the team is named AFC Soccer, and resides in the second division, which, oddly enough, is the top division for that establishment. I like the name. It is slightly redundant, but a good joke (Athletic/Football Club Soccer) if it was meant to be that. I'm not sure if he invited me out because he figures I need practice, or if he thinks I can help his team out (in an 'important' game). Either way, I'm glad to do it.

The Skylight amidst a Manitoba winter, followed by the interior. I was surprised when I saw that it actually had a skylight. I'm not sure what I was expecting.

The unfortunate side of it all is that I commited to both a practice with Fury Wednesday and the game Friday before realizing I have two games of my own on those nights - Eagles and Team Gigantic respectively. I believe that they don't overlap, though, but it's going to be a tiring week:

Tuesday: Beans' game, possible Wannabees' game.
Wednesday: Practice and Eagle's game.
Thursday: An exam.
Friday: Jahan's team's game, Team Gigantic game

Five to six possible games in four nights will have me drained. I would have an exam Tuesday as well, but the class is honestly a write-off. It was a tough school term for me, I had to sort a lot of things out with myself. It started nice and strong, but things just piled on. However, I'm doing pretty well now. I promise to myself that I will do my very best next term. I am setting a standard of every course being at least a B, and at least three having As.

In other news, I was refered to an excellent sounding job from Cara, one of the best female soccer players I know. The job is as a full-time soccer camp instructor for kids. I will most definitely want that job, because I love soccer, I handle and can put up with kids well, and will get a ton of physical activity out of it. Somebody please remind me - I'm bound to forget. Oddly enough, Carissa mentioned to me today that Stephen wanted to coach a youth team with me next summer. I'm excited for that as well. And apparently, Carissa is excited to leap right back into collecting Pokemon cards, bless her heart for being so strange.

I also learned from Cara and her friend the directions to Skylight, which were drewn up haphazardly at best. I did enjoy the map though, with it's pink highlighter tone and "choo choo" denoting a train on the nearby tracks adding a certain je ne sais quoi. After speaking with them during my job as a dodgeball referee, my dad and I drove out to where the Skylight is. Cara's opinion of the place is that it is dumpy, but I found the hobbit-esque exterior and claustrophobic interior to my taste, until I heard the buzzer for half-time - which was quite literally taken right out of an old house alarm system. At that point, like a quirky girlfriend who you just found out likes to bite, cute turns to strange, but the object of affection in question still remains (somewhat/how) charming.

Also, you may have noticed that I have adopted proper apostrophe usage. That's not to say I did not know it before, but now I just feel the need to be proper and correct. It still might take a while to ignore the fact that (for example) "Greg's cold" could refer to the fact that I am cold (or heartless), or it could be my sickness, which is a cold. I suppose contextualization matters. Maybe I'm searching for grammatical trouble here, but in all actuality, seeing the apostrophe really makes me think of contractions as opposed to possession. If you haven't already noticed, I am I big fan of contractions. Perhaps it's the English in me.

Speaking of, I delved into my family's lineage today. As it turns out, I'm a quarter each of English, Ukrainian, and German, but eighths of Welsh and Austrian. This is slightly different from my original suspicion that the shared quarter was English and Welsh, as opposed to Welsh and Austrian. Just a little curio for you. It also explains today's blog title, which, if you haven't noticed, is something weird or funny normally said to me recently. I had no idea when my dad called me this, but it makes a fine title.

As well, I'm starting a new tag called "strange ideas". For these "strange ideas", I'll deliver a short, concise idea of mine that usually results from a shower think-fest, looking out a car window for too long, or long chain of thought.

Today's strange idea is that I ought to improve my peripheral awareness. To do this, I am going to construct an exercise involving throwing a ball and catching it without really looking directly at it. Who knows, maybe it could help.

Finally, Derek, your icey street put my car out of commission for a few days. On the upshot, I'm finally getting my alignment fixed. Thanks?

Here is where I speak of lack of substance

I had one of my shower time discoveries again. I realized that this blog is just game after game of what happened. I really need to spice it up, and I don't mean in the usual feedbag or Stadtler & Waldorf style, as if those added anything.

I mean, sure, you get an opinion of the match, but it hardly helps if you don't see the match in the first place. What I need is, I think, more of an aim (and more of a drive to pursue it), and more general substance. I just wonder what to add into this.

Perhaps we should look back at my goals. They were not unrealistic, but definitely odd - how was I supposed to find a new team every year, a division above the last (aside from constant promotion)? I'm going to cut to the chase and aim for the premier division next summer, and to do that, I'll need to work fairly hard. Turns out the team I had tried out for last season ended up second in the table, and reached the quarter finals in the leagues cup competition. I really should've stayed on with them.

In other news, it would seem we have somebody with an even crazier goal than mine. Arton Baleci, the man behind The Beautiful Aim, is trying to turn himself into a premiership player in just a year. I have faith in him, I suppose, though it is a hard task.



This man, Robin van Persie, sunk Chelsea with two goals today. It's no wonder, he's got an incredible shot. Maybe I should practice turns to become as good as he is with them.

Maybe I should give David Moyes of Everton a call, I hear they're low on strikers - they have one right now, and he is my age.

Tonight, I play with Fury. That should be fun, I always learn from those guys.

Frumpy... You know, like cottage cheese bum

Today's game with the Eagles was a bit of a massacre. We played a team that statistics inferred that we'd have a good chance against, but we were pretty mediocre. They had only a couple subs, but a combination of their ball skill, smart play, and ability to beat our men, as well as our lack of the aforementioned left us disappointed in the end. The score was 7-4.

Personally, I could not shoot on target to save my life. Four fairly good chances came and went, including on in the last second that involved my setting myself up for a volley a second before time. The kick was going to be a second late if it came. I held back, in spite of frustration.

And off course, this was the first game in half a year that my parents came to watch.

I did almost get a diving header off, though. I was inches away. It would have been really nice, I think, but it was not to be.

There's not much else to say about that, I tried pretty hard and failed pretty hard, with my team. If only they were not as hasty as they are in a rush to power, we really need to work on the basics. Controlling, conditioning, and jockeying, specifically... All of that 'easy' stuff.

Nobody goes on the holiday make-up days.

Finally, classes are done.

As if that mattered, though, I hardly went. What a bad idea that was. Again.

I had one of those great work-and-play nights last night again, and I played with the Beans. I scored the first goal against the top team, and had hoped to hold out for the game like that. We didn't, and in spite of some good goaltending from one of our girls, we got routed 7-1.

Sometimes, that team really frustrates me. I particular, there's one guy who is just the biggest asshole to everybody. He pushed a girl pretty blatantly, and yelled at everybody on our own team. He was the same guy who hit my hand when I went to shake his hand last game.

I went in goal for the second half, and he just sorta stood upfield and yelled for the ball. I told him to make a run, and he yelled something back about not knowing where to go. I told him anywhere would be fine, so long as he moved. He continued to give lip, unfortunately.

How can some people be such big assholes? It eludes me completely.

Today, I managed to work on some ball control and left footed stuff by playing a really small ball against the couches. My left looks a little better.

There is nothing cool about having a tantrum.

What a strange last week or so I've had.

At any rate, we had a game tonight. I shall keep this short and sweet.

We faced a familiar foe tonight, the Kosmos. We have played this team many a time, and the only win we've ever notched against them was in the outdoor final a year and a bit ago.

These guys always come out with good speed and they always mark us incredibly tightly. Our game takes time to get momentum from the back, so this disrupts us very much. They have good players all over the pitch, but we do too. Also, most of us aren't nearly as in shape as they are. Needless to say, we lost 3-0.

I did have some good moves though. One was a roulette away from a couple people, another was a neat little stepover turn. I also sombrero'd a guy, then got taken down in the penalty box after I had beaten everybody. I would assume that the ref forgot he had a whistle for that one, it was about as blatant as it gets. At one point, I recieved the ball in our own end, and they were marking us tightly. I felt the pressure, beat a man, then delivered a pass through some guy's legs. He didn't expect it at all, and I think he actually froze in shock when it happened.

These guys really took the game to us though. Even their girls used their arms like no other. The calls did not go our way, either, and often, the ref would forget to indicate which team the kick was to be taken by. I really need to start using my arms, I'm like a T-rex out there.

"Hey guys, how's it going?"

At least I don't run like one.

It's Tuna Time

Thanks to a couple players on our team, tonight's game was a disaster. We switched over to a 2-2-1, where I played midfield, and it went well (for the first half). I put one in and assisted another, and we were only trailing by one by the break.

My goal was pretty nice, I volleyed a cross and just missed, hitting the top corner. The ball bounced back, and when the goalie was complaining to his team, I just left-footed it into the net with another (this time strange) volley. Probably one of the best things my left foot has ever done for me.

I almost had one early in the game, too, when I broke free down the side. The goalie came out, and I beat him, and I was going to side foot it into the net. It's a bit of a shame that he (literally) tackled me, and only got a foul called for it. When I went to take it quick, the idiots from the other team rolled it away from me.

My assist was created from a cross that I headed down for a teammate. Decent work, from everybody involved.

At half time, a couple of the notorious assholes felt like ruining the lines we had by taking the whiteboard, erasing various people, putting others on, and all sorts of stuff like that. I'm fine with changing plans, but when you have just two minutes and you are not informing half of the team, it becomes a problem. When one guy who has not at all been to practices (and very few of our first three games) and who has no coaching experience decides to take things into his own hands, things are obviously going to go awry. To top if off, there was another fellow on my team who spoke negatively of everything, including the system, which I thought was well thought out. It was not my idea per se, but it was what I had in mind. Needless to say, things fell apart in the second half. The team was everywhere -when I was supposed to play midfield, I got caught on defense in a two on one. Fortunately, I hardly cut off the first pass using my little leg sweep from behind maneuver.When I say barely, though, I mean, I didn't see it when I got it (it was that far away and behind me), and that I had just finished the motion when it hit my leg. I think I deserve a (self-produced) pat on the back for that one.

The worst part about being critical of your own team, though, is when you are a terrible player yourself.

I don't often partake in negativity, but I think I am just going to let him have it next time. No, I will not pass to you when you are quite well covered and call me a ball hog. Also, I am not going to shoot from half, you moron. Christ, the more I talk about it, the more I believe that this guy needs to get off the bloody team. Actually, both of the aforementioned guys need to leave. One's an asshole, and one's a sarcastic cynic - both of them have personalities that will not get you anywhere in soccer. Of course, I'm only saying that because I don't like them. Sure, if they were decent, maybe they could be somewhere.

At the end of the game, there was a strange mood in our locker room. Everybody was quiet, I was the only one speaking, so I had to lighten the mood with jokes. A couple others joined in, but it was generally unavoidable. Sure, the team we were up against was relegated from a league above us, but I suppose the fact that they had no wins was bothering the guys.

It's like buying a girl a fruit

You realize at times you have a good job when you're doing exactly what you want to do later in life, and getting paid for it. I played two games tonight while reffing, due to one team being my team and another being a team short of players (the Wannabees, as usual).

The Beans played the third place team, the Flood Minotaurs at eight. We ended up losing 4-3, but we played well. I felt I had a great game, including a fantastic goal line clearance, kind of like Andrea Dossena did against Rangers. Also worth noting was that a really cute girl that plays with the Flood Minotaurs was not there, unfortunately.

It was pretty nice, I was on the ground and I had a kick at it just before one of their players got a foot on it. Also worth noting was our goalies efforts today, including a Robert Enke-esque moment.

At another point, a guy told me to bring it on, so I did. I beat him with my semi-trademark back heel wall pass, ran down the line, beating another guy in the process, and found my teammate (who scored). Shows him to tell me to bring it on.

I found that my team has a couple people with bad tempers today. One guy in particular pretty much slapped my hand off when I went to shake his hand after the game, and he complained about a call of mine. Not like I can call it any other way, can I? Another gal complained to me about one of our weaker players while on the bench, and I get where she's coming from, but really, what can you do about it?

The game with the Wannabees was against the second place team, so you can imagine how that went. At half, it was 7-0, so I asked the other team if we could switch it up for some fun. They did, and fun was had, so it seemed. The Wannabees also asked if they could join my team, and I said I'd ask, but as far as the answer goes, it's probably going to be a no, as our team already is full. The league had assigned some of the registration stragglers to play with them, but it wasn't to be, most likely because they are somewhat frustrating to play with for most people serious about soccer. I don't know what will happen with them. I was changing and had my shirt off when she asked, and I didn't really hear her properly, so when I answered, I just sort of guessed what she had said, and it lead to myself saying the same things over again, because she didn't really walk away. Or maybe she was admiring my chest hairs.

You silently called my sister a whore, no?

Guess that character. Answer near end of entry.

Jesus, what a weekend. I found that sleep is VERY important the night before a game. Even five hours will make you feel like you're dragging a lead moose around. I played midfield, switching off with Jay, and I also found that our team focuses very much on the midfield. in fact, almost every attack ends up going through our midfield at one point or another.

If you know me, you may (or most likely not, unless we've talked indoor strategy) know that I am a huge advocate of the 2-2-1 formation in indoor soccer. Very basically, this is because you form a good box for the short pass, you get more cover on defense, and most importantly, there is no choke point that is apparent in the 2-1-2. In essence, you get more players involved in all aspects of play with greater ease.

Quite often, our midfielders have to dribble quite a lot before releasing the ball - this is a combination of our huge gap between strikers and defenders that our mid is expected to cover, the fact that our stronger players are in the midfield, and we are very much a counter attacking team. This is fine, for Jay. It suits his style perfectly. It suits mine as well, but only to a point - I merely consider myself one with good hustle on the counterattack. However, I think my best asset (offensively) is my vision and movement - the ability pass into ideal areas, and to be in good spots for passes by passing and moving "strategically"*. However, I enjoy having the play generally come through me quite often, as more ball time requires you to get better on the ball, which I am most likely doing.

An example of X's 2-2-1 dominating the O's Cancer formation †

I'm sorry about that last paragraph being so ego-centric, but I would assume that if that bothered you, you would not at all be looking at my blog, which at times is a hub for ego-centrism.

However, I think I'm onto something about the newly-developed Cancer formation. Also, please note that Cancer is a crab as opposed to a lobster, as shown in the image. I don't need to be spreading false information now, do I?

Really though, think of it. This formation has two attackers playing off each other, a sweeper, as the last man back, then a stopper and midfielder. You may say it's a lot of things, for example, "like a 2-1-2" or "bad", but I think it gives you more length at the sacrifice of width in defense. It could work, I believe. Heck, you could even name a run up from the defender 'the lobster tail attack'. It's got everything it requires - a thought, a name and a diagram.‡

At any rate, we lost the game 4-1.

Today was strange. Practice was canceled, so we went to the Toad and talked strategy. I also had a Toad burger, which, if you recall, was on the feedbag at one point. Speaking of...

Today on Greg's Feedbag:

Casa Burrito's "Smokey flank steak burrito".

This new hot spot for a quick fix of Mexican food is fantastic. Sure, I'm pals with the owner, but he has really done well for himself in this case, this restaurant is fantastic. It combines the laid back atmosphere of university with the busyness of downtown and strange naming and aesthetic value of Starbucks.

The burrito itself is made fresh for you, using very few if any processed elements. It is also delicious, moderately inexpensive, filling, simple, and fast. Very little can be said about it negatively, other than the experience of eating it is over all too quickly. Winnipeg has a new pinnacle for Mexican cuisine. 4.5/5 gullets satisfied.

After talking strategy, I arranged to hang out with my good friend Keeley. Unfortunately, my bloody car was stolen (by a tow truck). Thankfully, my dad bailed me out of the jam I was in. The character shown at the beginning of the blog is Boris Badenov of The Rocky and Bullwinkle show. I chose him for a couple reasons. First, my car is named Boris. Second, I felt like being a rascal, so I went into the Safeway where I parked, and walked around for five minutes, with the purpose of looking shifty and nervous. Turns out what I had set out to do originally had worked, I attracted a large, crew-cut security oaf. I did not feel like going overboard and smashing jam jars, so I turned it into a war of attrition. I picked up a National Geographic about oddities of the world as my weapon of choice. His was a novel. I buried my head into my book, and checked on him occasionally. I ended up getting through the entire read and wasting an hour of his time (I like to think of it as his employers time, he'd be there anyway) before he gave up. I considered it a personal victory over the assholes that stranded me in Osborne Village for an hour. Soon after, I got a call from my dad, who was just about outside.

We grabbed my car from an impound lot, and parted ways. I met up with Keeley, Alaina, and their mother for dinner at Moxies, which was fantastic. They were such great company, I had missed my futsal game. My apologies go out to my team, but what a fantastic dinner.


* Into open space.
† Originally a joke, now requires a name change.
‡ Originally was slightly funny and horribly stupid, opted for philosophical and motivational.

We were surprised about you

I realize this is a bit late, but I've been a bit busy. My apologies.

Wednesday nights game with the White Eagles was (quickly summarized) a disaster averted. We started well, and I assisted a goal to pull back a point, putting us at 2-1. Soon after, just before half time, we began losing control, giving up stupid fouls and a 2-minute penalty (though most were probably dives, knowing that team) and my teammates kept yelling at eachother. We went down 4-1 at this point.

At halftime, I had to give a talk, and just tell everybody to shut their mouths and to stop taking it out on each other. This seemed to work, except for at one point. I assisted another and put one in, bringing the score to 3-4. I got yelled at from a teammate for not passing it on my goal, so I smoothed things over. The situation was that I had an opportunity for an open shot from the top of the box, so I beat a man, took the shot, and followed up with my left foot. There was apparently an open man to my left when I took the shot, but I did not see nor hear him. He gave me flak afterwards, but I apologized and all was well.

At the very end of the game, I had the opportunity for a disgustingly sick overhead kick that I had set myself up for, but some guy put his head down to head it away from me, so I got called for a high kick.

It'd have been something like that.

All in all, I was disappointed with a few of my team members, namely one who mentioned in the dressing room that all of our goals were flukes. I'm not such why people insist on considering our team bad, I know for a fact that we have what it takes to be better, but we just have a few things holding us back. Sunday we have a three hour practice, and as player-coach, I will be damned if I cannot do anything about the negative atmosphere. Seriously, we're not as bad as we think we are, in fact, two of our losses have been by one point. We can most definitely be better than we are at the moment.

I nutmeg'd a guy at one point, too, but I couldn't get around him because he fouled me. I also got meg'd, but that's cool. I should change my stance at times. In addition, I did one of my very favourite things - I sprinted up behind a guy with a breakaway and got my foot in just in time to block a shot.

Last night I played Brenden in squash, beating him 4-3. I am getting better. I've got to go play Tom though, so see you all soon.

We're the Gillette Mach 3

There were a couple of games to be had yesterday, The first was an exhibition team that various members of Team Gigantic had against a somewhat complacent team that claimed we only had a couple talents. We had 11 guys, making for very little playtime for some of us. Thankfully, I was on the midfield line of three, so I was fortunate to get a good amount of playtime compared to the rest of everybody else. Another helping factor was the fact that one of our players, Eric, hasn't played in a long time, and left for the washroom to throw up close to the end of the game, giving me an extra shift.

I scored one and should've had a few more, if not for some sloppy shooting. I also got headbutted in the skull at one point, doing a bit of juggling in the middle of the field. Course, the guy that did it was a skinhead with a captain's armband (In co-ed recreational soccer, no less), so you could tell he was kind of a flake. My goal was a breakaway that I neatly slotted into the corner. I noted that my team played the triangle very well, but there were a few points in time that we failed to get back on defense and were caught on 4-on-1s. All in all, however, a good game, even though, as usual, the opponents were idiots. The scoreline wasn't truly indicative of the run of play, though.

After the first game, Dan, Rachel, Matt, and I decided to have a game about thinking of the most disgusting things possible on the way to drop Rachel off. I get the feeling I won, but Matt's lasagna was pretty decent, too.

Something like Matt's Lasagna.

In my later game, my other co-ed team (The Beans/Coolbeans) played one of my pseudo-teams, the (lacklustre) Wannabees. We won 20-1. I scored bucketloads, including a nice juggle into a volley, which I set up an opposing member of the team to screen for me. It was all downright horrid, though. At one point, I was purposefully missing shots that were tap-ins just to try not to run it up too much on the other team. midway through the second half, I vouched to switch sides to give my own team some practice, and to help the other team. I don't think I went into a full sprint or broke a sweat until this point in time.

My team also had no substitutes. Then against, neither did theirs. One of the previous team's players stuck around to give them a hand after they realized that they couldn't pry me from my official team. The guy that stuck around is one of those loud-mouthed fellows who is his teams biggest critic. He's not really a great player either, in fact, his head cranes about as downwards as it can go when he dribbles. Weird fellow, and apparently, a leg which he hurt that game has "only been broken four times". I think that's a great indication to stop at any sign of pain, if you ask me.

I'll stop talking about how bad this game was. Course, it's always nice to be able to practice tricks and such.

Tonight I play with the White Eagles against a team that is statistically worse than us, but reportedly better. We'll just have to see how it all goes.

I thought that was a fur-lined jacket.

Busy day today. I woke up to the smell of cake and a birthday card, and my family had a minuscule birthday celebration. After that, there was a practice for White Eagles, which only 5 others showed up to. We worked on certain positions according to my idea of how we should play (namely having a target man and midfielders providing attacking runs), then one-timers, and then had a 3 on 3 game where we focused on triangles. Two hours of that was a decent work out, but nothing too strenuous. I don't know how to organize a team is less than half of it shows up to practice.

After the eagles practice, I had a game a couple hours later. I arrived late and missed warm-up, and got thrown right onto the starting line-up as striker. I was cold and played horribly, but shaped up after halftime. I ended up scoring the tying goal from a rebound and assisted the goal before that, making a 5-all draw from a 3-5 loss. Not bad, if I say so. I had a deflected ball crank me in the face at one point, but I toughed it out and we salvaged the draw.

As I reffed dodgeball, one of my pals, David, mentioned that two of the guys on one of the other teams were Romby Bryant and Arjei Franklin, who play for the Winnipeg Blue Bombers, the city's local (American) football team. David's a huge Bomber fan, so his friend (with a small dog that made him look like he was wearing a fur-lined coat) put me up to asking the guys if they could say hi. I did, and David was ecstatic to the point of shaking. Funny stuff, if you ask me. The footballers are nice guys, too.

I ended up playing another dodgeball game afterwards for a good work out with the team that likes to refer to me as Mittens. I'm still at a loss to why, but it's fine.

One good thing I've been doing lately - stretching a lot. I've also learned that dynamic stretching is more important before a match, and that static stretching actually decreases muscle strength, so it should be done after the game.

Also, I've found one of my best attributes is my positioning, a la David Trezeguet. That man's incredible, he's a horrible touch, but he just always seems to be in the right place. Sure he missed a crucial penalty in the World Cup, but if a man can't miss a penalty... And yes Derek, that is my opinion of him.

Also, my parents offered to buy me a pair of soccer shoes for my birthday, and I've no idea what to get. My Umbro S5s were great, but I've heard good things about Adidas Sambas. The following pair, though, look incredible. That could be because white and gold is one of my favourite colour schemes. Looking good is important too.

Adidas F30 Indoor.

My name is Hhhtrr (?), I come from Planet Danger. I can put my arm back on, you can't.

Christ, was I ever on the receiving end of a beating tonight. But first off, let's recap the day.

It's officially winter now in Winnipeg, with snow teeming up trees and mountains of snow placed hastily in the corners of parking lots. It seemed to happen overnight, Wednesday, there was not a flake in the sky. I decided to go to school without a jacket today, and boy, that could've been better thought out. By the time Tom beat me badly in Squash today (I petered out at the end, but did make a couple really great comebacks), flurries were the order of the day, and slow drivers were beginning to escape from work. Course, it was pretty icy, but the way time moves as fast as it does in one of Winnipeg's winters, things were fine by the time I drove home from my game. I'd bet all of those people on the perimeter were cursing at me as I passed them doing the speed limit.

The game was a rough one, the team had a bit of skill, but we're no pushovers. I was, in a sense. I had an awkward volley then was a reasonably good shot as one of my shots, and a header from a long set play that missed the top corner of the net by a foot. Anah deserves a mention from that, she really put a spectacular ball in for me. I was at fault for two of the goals in the 2-3 loss, one was a long shot that I should've blocked, and the other was a tackle to pick up a guy that had got by Resa that ended up just putting the ball right back in his path.

I found out that I love being on the end of free kicks, as well. This is my new favourite thing.

People were after me today, though. Must've been the tank top I decided to don as my jersey. My actual jersey was pretty smelly from having to wear a pinny over it last week, so I vouched to keep it in the wash.

At any rate, some guy earned a yellow by sweeping my legs out from underneath me, bruising my hip pretty nicely in the process. It's given me a lovely limp, really. I imagine the whole ordeal looked like this:



Somewhat, at least.

The second 'occurence', if you could call it that, 'occured' when I was running to get a ball from between two of their players. I got the ball good and fine, but then I got tripped up. That's cool, whatever. It happens. As I begin to get up, I feel a grab around my chest, then a push from behind. Some midget gets up, yells at me, and our referee shows him red. Okay. I was pretty pissed, I mean, why would you do that? His teammates gave me some lip, so I told him that it wasn't nice to get under his skin.

It should be worth noting that the same person earlier was giving Adrian and I trouble when we set up a wall. The meanie kept pushing.

I went to the bench and subbed off for Jay, and mentioned to my team that the guy was being a baby. Jay turned around, pointed at me, and told me to shut up, which I felt was uncalled for, for a few reasons:

1) Team unity - Stay by your team and teammates' side at all times. We're a unit, not my first ex-girlfriend.

2) I was on the business end of two carded offenses in the game - Of course I'm going to be disturbed. If it were a few others on our team, let's face it, a fist fight would have been a possibility.

3) I didn't do anything wrong - Sure, I could've not spoke back, but this made me pretty angry. Don't be an asshole to me while I'm doing the only thing that keeps me sane.

4) I only called him a baby.

After the game, I apologized to Jay. I'm not sure if I was seeking a mutual apology, or I felt bad for some reason, but at any rate, he didn't really say anything. Suits himself, I suppose. Might have something to be correlated with that when I asked people to point fingers at me if I had done anything, Jay was the only one that pointed. Oddly enough, to others, it looked like I had been suplexed and headbutted.

Resa, the team's manager, delivered a bit of a speech at the end of the game about playing rough, and this concerned me. I hadn't been rough at all, but I get paranoid about these things. I spoke to her though, and I wasn't the problem. It would see that I was just the target of other people's problems.

It should be worth noting that Derek pulled his usual hot-headed stuff about jumping the boards to get in a fight. Normally I'm pretty critical about fighting, especially on the soccer field, but for once, I understand. It's a comradery thing, really, and I appreciate it. I appreciate more that he had the restraint to not come on and start laying people out (though I'd have paid to see it), even though it wasn't so much a restraint issue as much as having a petite and innocent blonde girl (Sarah) in his way. I now see where he is coming from. Regardless, once the fists start getting thrown around, so do the assault charges. For the love of it, Derek, keep that in mind. I'm going to give you a codephrase for whenever you get angry like that, from one of my favorite childhood shows. Fast forward to 1:45 or so.

"Punisher, control!"

I've a theory on who the punisher actually was. If anybody remembers the black-haired guy who hosted YTV with Snit (that weird goopy television screen), I have a strong inclination it was him. My reasoning behind that is his strange voice, fact that he appeared on the same children's network, and, his stature, and penchant for acting strange. Of course, it could've been anybody, nobody ever knew or found out. Oddly enough, checking on the wikipedia page, the actors who did play the Punisher never had their identities revealed. It should be worth noting that I had a severe bout of nostalgia when watching that, and even if you did watch just that, you should re-watch the entire thing, if you recall the show.

After the game, the ref and the foul dwarf approached me, and we chatted about it. I told him that me knocking him over (or whatever happened) was an accident, and shook his hand. Fabio, the ref, called me a good guy, and for some strange reason, I asked Fabio, for some unknown and unprovoked reason, if the suspension could be vouched against. Fabio complied. Perhaps it was because I've had a suspension freebie before, with my mens team (as far back as July). Maybe it's because I figured the suspension would do my own team no favors. Or maybe it's because I'm a moron.

On the drive home, Rachel told me she sees me as a sort of coaching figure on the team. This was pretty cool. I like being a coaching figure.