By Saturday night, I was crawling around the floor, speaking things that didn't make much sense, and in a general state of delirium. The crawling was based on the physical fatigue, while everything else was mental fatigue. I had played three games that day.
Normally, when I've played three games, it doesn't really get to me. I've done it a few times before.
But the arrangement and circumstance was the deadly aspect of it all. I went to bed the previous night at 4, woke up at 9 to drive my parents to the airport, and then had a game at noon with AFC Soccer.
Jahan pulled me aside and told me that I had raised my game once more, and I in fact did. I made few errors, created a few plays, and could've easily had a couple goals. The only error that comes to mind was failing to chest-and-then-volley a pass that would've created a 1-on-1 with the goalie, and there was really no excuse. Perhaps on a day with some more sleep, I'd have been able to hit it.
Aside from that, I had a lot of dangerous runs, a few dangerous and smart passes, and a couple where I almost could've scored if another player on my team decided to pass as opposed to beat the goalie in some manner. I am not complaining though, as we won 10-5.
After that game, I went home and relaxed. I had a White Eagles game at five.
At the game, I played defense. As an indication of how tight the footballing community is around here, the referee that took care of my noon match was also due to ref this match. Even stranger, though, is that the Eagles called up a couple players that one of the guys worked with, and it was a couple of old pals from Euro FC. For anybody not in the know, Euro FC was a team of Portuguese guys that won only one game, had terrible attendance, and was my team two summers ago. We practiced three times, and the great majority of them tired after three minutes of playing. They lacked speed and defensive abilities, but were somewhat decent in taking on men. Perhaps this sticks out in my mind because they did not pass, just tried to beat everybody.
Playing defense for the White Eagles is usually quite occupying, but tonight was an exception. We were playing a team that originally had no substitutes, so it game me license to move forward a little and provide a target that actually moved. More than once I had to pass it back to my own goalie because not a single striker on our team moved, and they had a man on right behind them.
I made one normally-suicidal attacking run forward, and managed to pass most everybody on both teams. I gave the ball to one of my Portuguese pals, and continued sprinting. He gave me a surprisingly excellently weighted ball to chase down, and I latched onto it with a touch or two. By this time, the opposition's goalie and a defender closed in on me, and the defender pushed me over. During the push, I was able to chip the bouncing ball over the oncoming goalie's head, and I was over by a foot. The ball bounced back, and by this time, I was on the ground. There was no whistle, so a rebelious part of me told me to play on. While on the ground. Which is normally illegal. Now, just try to imagine...
Normally, when I've played three games, it doesn't really get to me. I've done it a few times before.
But the arrangement and circumstance was the deadly aspect of it all. I went to bed the previous night at 4, woke up at 9 to drive my parents to the airport, and then had a game at noon with AFC Soccer.
Jahan pulled me aside and told me that I had raised my game once more, and I in fact did. I made few errors, created a few plays, and could've easily had a couple goals. The only error that comes to mind was failing to chest-and-then-volley a pass that would've created a 1-on-1 with the goalie, and there was really no excuse. Perhaps on a day with some more sleep, I'd have been able to hit it.
Aside from that, I had a lot of dangerous runs, a few dangerous and smart passes, and a couple where I almost could've scored if another player on my team decided to pass as opposed to beat the goalie in some manner. I am not complaining though, as we won 10-5.
After that game, I went home and relaxed. I had a White Eagles game at five.
At the game, I played defense. As an indication of how tight the footballing community is around here, the referee that took care of my noon match was also due to ref this match. Even stranger, though, is that the Eagles called up a couple players that one of the guys worked with, and it was a couple of old pals from Euro FC. For anybody not in the know, Euro FC was a team of Portuguese guys that won only one game, had terrible attendance, and was my team two summers ago. We practiced three times, and the great majority of them tired after three minutes of playing. They lacked speed and defensive abilities, but were somewhat decent in taking on men. Perhaps this sticks out in my mind because they did not pass, just tried to beat everybody.
Playing defense for the White Eagles is usually quite occupying, but tonight was an exception. We were playing a team that originally had no substitutes, so it game me license to move forward a little and provide a target that actually moved. More than once I had to pass it back to my own goalie because not a single striker on our team moved, and they had a man on right behind them.
I made one normally-suicidal attacking run forward, and managed to pass most everybody on both teams. I gave the ball to one of my Portuguese pals, and continued sprinting. He gave me a surprisingly excellently weighted ball to chase down, and I latched onto it with a touch or two. By this time, the opposition's goalie and a defender closed in on me, and the defender pushed me over. During the push, I was able to chip the bouncing ball over the oncoming goalie's head, and I was over by a foot. The ball bounced back, and by this time, I was on the ground. There was no whistle, so a rebelious part of me told me to play on. While on the ground. Which is normally illegal. Now, just try to imagine...
This, mixed with...
Wait, what?
Well, very basically, the ball bounced off the panel above the crossbar back to me while my back was on the ground. It took a bounce, and the oaf that bowled me over tried to clear it. He didn't. I bicycle kicked it while on the ground, and somehow scored. The other team complained, and I thought it wouldn't have counted either, but apparently it didn't count as a slide nor a high kick. I'll have to ask some officials at my next few games. It was easily one of my greatest goals to date. I'll have to make a list of them some day.
I've been working on a few other skills to suplement being lucky while on the field. One of them, the Trivela, is surprisingly handy given its asthetic value.
I've been working on a few other skills to suplement being lucky while on the field. One of them, the Trivela, is surprisingly handy given its asthetic value.
Sure, I can't hit it like that...
I took about a 50 yard free kick using this, and managed to pick out a head on the far post. Pretty good considering I didn't have much room to manuever. I put a ton of spin on it, too. I imagine this becoming a great tool for me.
Other than my personal performance, the Eagles game was routine, aside from the fact that we won 4-2. Most of our players played terribly, leaving HUGE gaps in the defense and not moving on offense. At half time, two of our players got in a fight because one wanted to switch sides as striker, and the other just told him to man up and put up with his defender, who roughed him up.
At least we got that elusive second win.
I grabbed some food after that game, then headed to the Coverall to play with Team Gigantic. We had a game against one of our friendly rivals and league leaders, Sabres. Strangely enough, they are only rivals because of Derek, who declared them so after he realized Greg on the other team and I were old pals on our high school soccer team. They creamed us the first half, 7-2. I was not into it due to fatigue, and the entire team played badly. In the second half, either they took the foot off the gas, we stepped up, or both of the aforementioned things happened, because we ended up losing the half 1-0. I personally played better at that point, as that was when runner's high seemed to kick in. I was able to beat people with ease, and have many shots, though few were on target. I also went a little crazy and laid down underneath the bench, which was a bad idea, but I wanted rest. All in all, we lost 8-2, but I did as good as I could, having very little sleep and enough rest time between games to make me feel like I was not tired.
It hit me later, at Jay's house, after we watched the taped version of last year's championship final, and after Matt and I decided to play some strange combination of pool and snooker with our hands, trying to bend the pool balls. Matt and I did this for about an hour.
I got home at four, let my dog out, then passed out. Big game tonight, though. AFC Soccer plays in the quarter finals of the championship at Skylight. I'm trying hard not to get nervous about it, but it's tough. Ahh well, at least it'll take my mind off that essay due tomorrow.
Other than my personal performance, the Eagles game was routine, aside from the fact that we won 4-2. Most of our players played terribly, leaving HUGE gaps in the defense and not moving on offense. At half time, two of our players got in a fight because one wanted to switch sides as striker, and the other just told him to man up and put up with his defender, who roughed him up.
At least we got that elusive second win.
I grabbed some food after that game, then headed to the Coverall to play with Team Gigantic. We had a game against one of our friendly rivals and league leaders, Sabres. Strangely enough, they are only rivals because of Derek, who declared them so after he realized Greg on the other team and I were old pals on our high school soccer team. They creamed us the first half, 7-2. I was not into it due to fatigue, and the entire team played badly. In the second half, either they took the foot off the gas, we stepped up, or both of the aforementioned things happened, because we ended up losing the half 1-0. I personally played better at that point, as that was when runner's high seemed to kick in. I was able to beat people with ease, and have many shots, though few were on target. I also went a little crazy and laid down underneath the bench, which was a bad idea, but I wanted rest. All in all, we lost 8-2, but I did as good as I could, having very little sleep and enough rest time between games to make me feel like I was not tired.
It hit me later, at Jay's house, after we watched the taped version of last year's championship final, and after Matt and I decided to play some strange combination of pool and snooker with our hands, trying to bend the pool balls. Matt and I did this for about an hour.
I got home at four, let my dog out, then passed out. Big game tonight, though. AFC Soccer plays in the quarter finals of the championship at Skylight. I'm trying hard not to get nervous about it, but it's tough. Ahh well, at least it'll take my mind off that essay due tomorrow.
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