1) They ask you to play with them because they think you're good, see some hope in you, and think you're on the way to playing soccer like a Mexican.
2) They ask you to play with them because they see that you're no good, play like an American, and they only want you to play so they can display just how much better they are, have someone on the other team they can demolish with their eyes closed, and know that you will just be fun to have around, cause they can do whatever and not have to worry about what you're doing and where you are. You're American. You don't play soccer. Especially like a Mexican.
Hello Wednesday: Day of getting pwned by Mexicans. Even the old ones. But only in the second half. The first half, we held our own quite well.
So, after work every Mon/Tue/Thurs/Fri, the Casa 7 boys, some college-aged kids from town, and I play soccer for a few hours. Whether it's on the grass or the basketball court depends on the weather, who is there, where the goals were left from the previous day, and what mood we're in. Grass is more slow paced but a lot more running. A trot. Concrete is uber-fast paced, but less running. A sprint.
Last night, after soccer, two of the college kids came up to me and asked me if I wanted to play soccer with them at this big get-together in Las Cardenas (half an hour south) after church tomorrow night. Heck freaking yes. I was in immediately...and slightly flattered they'd even asked me to play with them, considering how I usually play around them. Anywho, so they said to meet them at Globitos (the mom and pop store down the street), and we'd drive down together. Also included was this little disclaimer: "We don't know if you're even allowed to play cause...well, you don't really look like us at all, but if they ask, just say you're Canadian. We don't want any fights breaking out." Hahaha...that's reassuring. Makes me want to go soooo bad! No, really, I still really wanted to go. My chance to show that not all Americans don't love soccer as much as them.
My neighbor, Edgardo, ended up coming as well, so that was awesome. Sadly, he won't be my neighbor anymore cause he's getting married on Saturday. Sad life. For me, not him. I'll miss him. He was great. But anywho, back to soccer. So my neighbor, the two guy guys who originally asked me, and one other guy (who we picked up on the way) headed out for Las Cardenas.
When we arrived, I noticed that the Mexicans have a very unique, clever way of playing soccer. Fast paced, small teams, high scoring. They take a normal soccer field (normal being dirt), split it in half (where the center line is), and put the goals on the sides of the field (where the teams usually sit). So you've now got two separate fields, with goals on the sides, and a shorter, but still wide, field. It's almost the perfect little field. Throw in some grass, maybe some line judges, and a couple real goals, and you've got yourself the perfect field. But then again...I'm getting more used to the dirt (and I happen to like more than our Pothole-ville, which happens to be adjacent to Break-Your-Ankleton. Yeah...as much as I like our "grass" field, it really screws with your footwork and the general flow of the game. Dirt it is. Nice, flat, fast-paced dirt. 'Twas a blast.
We started off great, went down 1-nil. Then quickly came back and tied at 1 all. Then we scored again, up 2-1. They came back with the equalizer shortly after. 2 all. We scored yet again, which they followed up again soon after. That was the first half. Second half, again, started off on the right foot...then they scored. And again. And again. 6-3. We got worked in the second half. They worked us harder than Donald Trump works his hair every morning...EVEN on those occasional bad hair days. Or, in his case, every day.
Overall, the whole thing was a learning process. Experiencing playing with college kids and older men, instead of my usual Jr. high/high school friends. It's good to get out a little and play with men who will seriously push you around, and bruise you, and create ball imprints on your thighs. That's always fun. Battle wounds. Like I need anymore of those...
In other news, I have come to believe that though this billboard statement made be statistically true, at least the first one, the second one is not quite so true. There are definitely other ways besides the American way...just depends on what you're going for. I'm led to believe, at least for me, a more fulfilling lifestyle is lived outside those 50 grand states of ours. And for the time being, I'm finding that right here.
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