Soccer Match

This past Saturday, I had the ever so fortunate opportunity to go to a European futbol match between AC Sparta Praha and Victoria Plzen. AC Sparta is the main team in Prague and the top seed in the Czech national league. If you know anything about me, you know that I've breathed and bled soccer for as long as I can remember. I still have my very first trophy sitting in my room in Cleveland dating back to 1997, which means I received it when I was either 3 or 4, depending on if it was from the spring or fall season. Granted, I was so oblivious to how soccer was played back then that I didn't even realize I played on a predominantly female team (I do remember wondering why the little person on my trophy had a pony tail...), not to mention I probably didn't actually make a play on the field until I was 8. I've heard the stories from my uncle and Dad about how I would just stand in the center of the field and pick dandelions, periodically waving with feverish excitement to my loyal spectators (parents) who were actually yelling at me to chase the ball with the rest of the kids. Regardless, I have fond memories of soccer from the very beginning of my athletic career, though as I grew older I found my passion on the field actually playing the game, not just idly picking weeds. I often ask myself what I would do without soccer in my life; it's my escape, my worldly expertise, my humility. When I play, usually pick up or indoor at the Metroplex nowadays, my mind goes blank and just for a few hours, I forget about my worries and concerns. I forget about my homework, my frat, my friends, my family, everything and just commit to the game. I like to approach the game analytically, like I'm maneuvering through a maze of jumbled people and space, trying new combinations of teamwork and creative footwork to ultimately put a ball in a net just a few yards in front of me. If I have one regret, it's not pursuing my soccer talents as far as I could, I tried playing in tournaments in high school, traveling to elite camps, playing on a college squad, or even pushing myself further than that. However, whenever I ask myself these questions, I also realize that had I chosen that path, I would not be in Prague, I wouldn't be in a fraternity, I wouldn't have my friends, and I probably wouldn't give a shit about my film career, whatever it may be(come).

I guess that paragraph got a little away of me. These are just the thoughts I had as I watched the game from the second row up from the field around the 30 yard line. They were amazing seats--not too low that I lacked depth perception of the field but not too high that I felt detached from the game. I could really watch how the players touched the ball, controlled it in tight situations, and even judge their quick decisions in certain situations. Would I have passed that there? Should he have crossed it or made a run closer to the goal line? Mmmm great touch, too bad he got a little selfish with his second one. This is my mind as I'm watching the game--I can't help it. I think I picked up this tendency from my father, who just watches the Spanish channel once a month, makes his own comments on the players' moves and mocks the commentator's boisterous laughter or breathe-taxingly long GOL cheer. It's not a bad thing, it's just the only alternative a rabid soccer fan has when he refuses to purchase cable TV. Perhaps that's a part of why I never pursued soccer too seriously; I never followed teams and players because all I had was YouTube highlights and the fucking Spanish channel. It's kind of like how I never really had premier teams to choose from because it seemed like a too much of a luxury so I just stuck with pick up soccer and playing in underground indoor soccer leagues with former European professionals. It definitely did the trick though, it's just nobody really scouts out talent at a half-church, half-warehouse soccer facility or the local elementary school field.

Shit, it got away from me again...Okay, here goes. Sparta won 2-0, there was a wave after the second goal, the extremist fans totally lit a trashcan on fire/lit off fireworks after each goal, the first goal was off a diving header off a cross from half field, I wore a scarf and felt awesome and Euro, and I even picked up on some of the chants. The field is only a 10-15 minute walk from my apartment, which made the victorious walk home interesting, surrounded by drunk, cheering czechs in a sea of maroon and white (Sparta colors). I had an awesome time, though it makes me really anxious to come home and see a few Browns and Cavs games. If you're not paying attention to the Cavaliers, shame on you. Cleveland's got the hottest young team in the NBA and it's headed back to the playoffs. Uncle Drew and the crew, let's go.