When I was seven and on the Shamrock’s soccer team, I remember my coach telling me I needed to be aggressive and it was my duty to protect our goalie. 23 years later, I have been told I am too aggressive, too strong willed, uncontrollable and too hard on things. I blame all these traits on the direction I received from him.
Admittedly I am not graceful. I break cell phones merely by touching them, no electronic device comes out of my posession unscathed, I ruin any item of clothing I have that is labeled “delicate”, I have too many speeding tickets to count and I often have bruises from unknown origin.
I have the desire to be really good at one thing. I don’t know if it stems from watching too much American Idol or Dancing with the Stars but I often think if I could just focus on honing my skills in one particular area I could potentially be amazing at that one thing.
Instead, I am mildly good at many things. I am a wealth of random information, I am somewhat artistic but will never expect to have an art exhibit, I have come to accept that my singing is best appreciated when on mute. I can hold my own rock climbing, dirtbike riding and scuba diving but cannot do any of these things well enough to be impressive. I am good at many things but my search to be great at one thing continues.
This brings me to my point.
I began playing soccer at a very young age. Like all other good Orange County children, I joined AYSO where at the end of every season, everyone received a trophy. No matter if you actually played well, or chose to pass time picking flowers and braiding your teammates hair as the soccer ball rolled past you…in AYSO everyone wins. I played soccer for many years and then, when it came time to decide if I wanted to really get amazing at playing or to quit, well I chose to move on to find other things to become mildly good at.
Now, at 31 years old I decided I really wanted to play soccer again. I joined a co-ed league with high hopes to rediscover my love for the game and uncover my hidden talents of soccer. I have been playing now for 6 months, and sadly my talent remains hidden. Each game I am huffing and puffing down the field, running full speed at the opponents only to find that by the time I reach them, they no longer have the ball. Playing soccer as an adult is much different than it was when I was young. A lot of the men have beer bellys, some of the women have thighs that jiggle when they run, the stamina in the players is much less than I remember, yet still I cannot seem to make a goal to save my life. My only hope is to convince one of my teammates to let me braid their hair on the field…now that was the part of soccer I was great at!
