Sunday Soccer

Its interesting. Regular readers of this will know that I am not close to my family. No, not my wife and kids. My brother, two aunts, two uncles and 4 cousins. (Thankfully, one of my aunts never had kids. Some people just shouldn't have kids.) I feel like an outsider. I don't like most attorneys. I wouldn't hang out with them if I had the choice. (Some I would, most I would not.) I don't feel the need to hang out with people based on sharing a common religion. I don't have a ton of friends. But, I belong somewhere.

For me, that somewhere is Sunday Soccer. Yes, it gets capitalized. This game started 20 some odd years ago in Elk Grove. A group of guys wanted to get together and play soccer with their kids. Slowly, word of the game spread. For the last 13 years, I have been fortunate to be a part of this game, although it is more than a game. I am one of the "old timers" now along with a handful of much younger guys!

What is it? I don't know. We aren't family. We aren't quite friends. I mean, some of us are. Some folks come because their friends come. But we are us. And, we happen to like us.

I can't explain it. I look around this group and over the last 13 years we have had new people come, old people stop showing up, some people who stay and some people who leave. We have our rules and our personalities. But we have each other.

I remember last spring. We had a group of guys show up (we play co-ed but these were all guys). They didn't like our rules. They didn't like the way we played. At some point, it ended up as us against them. A beat down is the only way to describe. And no, not by them. By us. It wasn't pretty. I haven't seen those guys back since then.

Some of our guys are real soccer players. We have guys who have played professionally. We have some kids, and these guys are still kids in my eyes even in their mid to late 20s, who have played high school soccer and could have played further. They will never admit it, and that is one of the great things about the game. The egos are checked at the door. You think you are hot stuff? Come out and watch some young kid nutmeg you. It doesn't matter who you are. They manage to do it.

Some of us have played all of our lives, even if we are step (or six) slower. Some are guys who come out with their kids who play, even if dad hasn't played before because he wants to learn the game. (Okay, one guy I can think of, but he knows who he is.)

We have been through happy times together. I brought out See's cigars when my Brooklyn was born. We have had guys get engaged, get married, have babies. One guy is engaged now (or is it two?) and one guy's wife is pregnant.

We have been through sad times. My mom passing away. One of us who committed suicide. And we supported each other. I remember when Troy died. This kid could play soccer like nobody's business. He may have been the most natural player I have ever seen, no offense to any of the guys reading this. When we found out, we had a moment of silence. After our game, there was a prayer circle. It doesn't matter that we aren't the same religion. What mattered was that we were there for each other. Later that week we all showed up for his memorial service. 

I don't know why we all go out there. I go to play. I go to burn off stress. I go because on the soccer field, whatever problems I am having that day, that week, that month, disappear. I can't possibly worry about those while playing. I go because soccer is part of who I am. Its a bond between my father, who taught me the game, and myself. Its a bond between myself and my kids, who I taught to play. Its a bond between me and a group of guys (and women) who I would stand up and call my friends, be it guys who I actually like or guys who may rub me the wrong way, but are part of who we are.

I want to thank everyone who shows up on Sundays. I may not be there every week (and I will miss the next two), but the game, the people, they become part of who we are, part of our families, even if no one will man up and admit it.

I belong.............