I took a lazy day yesterday.

But today wasn't so much like that. After waking up at 1 pm, I vouched to get my mop of hair cut, then go play ball with a group of guys at my university at a dingy field in the heart of the bad area just off downtown. The field/pitch gently slopped to the center from all ways, and there were spots of rain. It was pretty fun, though it was very muggy out and hard to control on the uneven ground.

It was a good game, but bloody hell, EVERYBODY wanted to play striker.

So I decided to play defense. I did pretty well, thwarted a lot of goals, blocked a few shots, made some good passes and runs, and my team won 9-5 or something like that. I ended up heading in an own goal when my goalie didn't call for the ball, but otherwise I pretty well and worked on jockeying. After the big eleven-a-side game, we moved to the smaller field for some five-a-side, where I was marking a fast kid with really good footwork. The trick there is to not commit. I ended up putting the ball through his legs and scoring once, but everybody was pretty tired after three hours of football/soccer so we called it pretty soon after.


I actually ended up playing goalie with my sprained finger, and I made one really good save and ended up spiking the ball instead of punching it. However, I'll explain the sprain another day, because I've gotta go eat, and it's a pretty good story.

Nothing to mention today, really. I worked my ass off at both my jobs (my other is refereeing, sort of). I did play a good half hour of dodgeball while I was "refereeing", and that was a good time. I suppose that constitutes as a light training day.

I'd probably prefer the 19th century

I was pretty tired today. Must've been that blogging at two in the morning, then having to wake up early for work. Work wasn't the greatest, it was like all the crazies came about (I work with the government under the minister of family services and housing for my area, and no, it's not as cushy as it seems). I did take two naps though, one at lunch and one after work when I was driving around pointlessly. They did help. A lot. Fortunately, my excellent pal Keeley invited me over to help with her physics project to make a mousetrap car. I wasn't too good at it, all of my ideas were oddball ones, in spite of their possible merit. For example: Ice as a low-friction front wheel, skis instead of front wheels, caulking on the back wheels for grip and weight...

If this were the 19th century, I'd definitely be an inventor. But not the Da Vinci sort. I'm talking about one who would try to make steam-engine robots and other silly stuff, and fail miserably, all the while getting horribly disfigured by scalding vapour. But christ, steampunk stuff is awesome, though I hate the name. Beats gas, which is incredibly steep for me (please refer to: reasons why I'd sleep in an elementary school parking lot in the back of my car, where you will also find "having not been paid for that new job yet").

My magnum opus in a previous lifetime.

Regardless, come game time, I arrived a touch late. It was an indoor mens game, and the team we played must've had a squad of 17-19 compared to our measly 13. They came out really, really strong and rough, so I vouched to be a bit of a hard ass right back. We ended up tying it 1-1 at the half, and they came out sluggish. Unfortunately my team was pretty drained, and nobody looked up for running. We went down to a penalty and a controversial goal, at which point I was left alone on defense a couple times. I did manage to thwart two three on ones, one through cunning and skill and the other through a complete foul. It worked though, so I can't complain.

As a note, though, learn to jockey for those situations where I fouled the guy. I've got a horrible habit of not doing so.

There was also a huge prick on their team who I made it my goal to give a rough tackle to by the end of the game. He was the type (and I'm sure you know somebody just like it), who has a comment about everything. For example, he was "taking out the trash" when he first scored on us. It wasn't too great, but I retorted with that I would be "taking out his mother later on". I did eventually knock him over, but not as well as I was hoping for. I'm not usually like that either, but man, something about that guy just screamed "I'm just like the guy who bullied you in grade seven, and my head's still up my ass".

Otherwise, I played particularly well. I got open, I defended fairly well, I made good passes when available, but my team just didn't bring the conditioning today. And it's too bad they won't bring it in practice either. Ahh well, what can you do?

My team also became fairly frustrated, but in the end, it's just a game. They were fast, ruthless and played simple give-and-gos that my team couldn't pick up on, but they deserved the win and got it, 5-2. One goal was a penalty shot and two were own goals, but they still had us pinned in our end a good bit. Maybe I need to develop a more competitive attitude? As they say, and I'm not sure who, but somebody did say it;

"It's only a game if you're losing."

I'm thinking I'm going to treat this like a strange literary work. I'm going to start by showing you what I want, which I did. Then I'm going to tell you stories. Which I will.

As the stories progress, details about me will unfurl, making for a hopefully interesting read as you learn about me and get to know me. And don't be a stranger, either. Comment as much as you please.

Keep in mind that as I write this, I'll be diving into a world that only those that have traveled it know. I'm training to become a professional athlete, so why not throw your two cents in? I've done a good amount of reading on the subject, but really, any pointer to make my training that much more effective or any words of motivation or criticism, or whatnot will only make this more interesting for myself. That being said, I hope I can keep things interesting for you by avoiding the simple "today I did 13 push ups and drank a protein shake" format.

That being said, I'm not one for protein shakes. My dad used to have them, and they tasted like a warm float with chalk as the main ingredient. If you're at all like me, you probably just had the urge to make a root beer float as well, didn't you? Unfortunately for me, I have no ice-cream, no root beer, and nothing of whatever else is required for such a delicacy. Except a cup and the will to make it. That leaves me with something synonymous of an empty dream. Hopefully that's no sign of things to come.


I find that, as mentioned in my first post, that motivation is hard to come by until you begin something. Today, it was a case of not wanting to shower after some light training.

But I decided to dive into it anyway for an hour an a half of largely interrupted training. I played a ball against my house to work on my first touch and one-timers for twenty minutes or so, after which my dad came out with my dog, Bailey, baby version seen right (there's your "aww" of the day). That is her when we first chose her from the litter of wheaton terriers. She was a runt, and a girl. This, and the fact that she fell asleep in my lap, are the reasons why they chose her. In addition, I have a taciturn cat named Sylvester, with frostbitten ears and a broken tooth, who doesn't take well to strangers. So, my parents did some reading and guessing, and decided to get a small, somewhat reserved dog of the opposite gender. It didn't work out too great, she still harasses that poor cat. As fate would have it, while that dog has been spoiled by my parents, Sylvester and I have formed somewhat of a friendship, especially since the weight machine and treadmill are in my basement, where my cat generally resides.

Now, if that aside my mother and father (who I live with, if you haven't gathered) treat that dog like their third child. In my opinion, they spoil her, by letting her get whatever she wants from them.

Now, it sounds strange, but trust me, that dog can work the system. In fact, there's about a pound of mixed vegetables, ground beef, and god knows what else in a bowl in the fridge, just waiting to be mixed in with her morning and evening kibble fix.

As I said, my parents think the world of this dog, and my dad had taken her outside. I asked him to see if we could measure 40 yards out on the grass to test sprint times, and him, being the nice man that he is, willingly obliged.

After some debate about the speed of my dog compared to me, I decided to have a race with with her. With only a seconds hand to count on, I managed a six, while the dog managed a seven. This was not head to head, but rather comparing times, with liver snaps on the line for her, pride on the line for me. So no, I didn't treat the race like a friendly match of SEGA Road Rash*.


Not bad. I can hold my head high knowing that logically, something with four legs should very well have been faster. Maybe it was all that garbage they feed her?

Either way, as far as sprinting goes, my next goal is to try and get timed somewhat accurate to the nearest tenth of a second, then begin my HIIT (High Impact Interval Training) schedule. I'll keep track of progress every week or so, and eventually, I hope to further my reputation as neighborhood dog-racer by beating that psychotic thing next door.


And I haven't even begun my speed training.



I really wish I could end this post there, as it was at a nice climax.

But afterward, I chatted up the neighbors and their relatively skittish new black lab (Who could've ran circles around me), and played with the ball some more, until I went inside and lifted some upper-body weights.

I have a game tomorrow, after all.

(CONFOUND IT! Another twist!)

* - If I could caption two things under the Road Rash image, one would be "That was surely EA's finest hour". The other; "I really wish I hadn't google image searched that".

This is a blog for a little adventure of mine to play soccer for a living. I'll try to update daily, but no promises. Though I really would love to, as it's "good motivation" if you track your progress, according to almost every pundit on motivation.

What I hope to get out of this may seem a touch ambitious, but if you look at it another way, there's no real loss if it doesn't go as planned. Even if I pull a shred of anything I hope to out of this, that's fine too.

-1-
I hope to prove to myself that motivating myself isn't (hopefully) all that hard. I'm a famous slacker, most notably in university. I really, really need to change that. I hope to see that it's not as hard as I make it out to be, and I hope to act on that and start becoming a touch more responsible about everything.

-2-
I want to see what I can do. What happens when I put my mind to something? It could also serve as good motivation for other things.

-3-
I also want to keep track of my progress. I want to see improvements, and I want to have a good recollection of how football/soccer was before the improvements, so I can see how long (or short) I've come.

-4-
And I suppose, least of all, I want to keep my brain active over the summer by just writing.


My grand goal is to earn a living playing soccer/football. I realize the incredible odds of that happening are pretty low, but it's worth a shot. Besides, I enjoy the game, and I enjoy getting better - what is there to lose?