Journey, realized

I have sat down to write this post more times than I care to remember. Every time I do, I find myself instantly censoring all of my thoughts. It's as if some internal editor with a ragin' case of hemorrhoids and a espresso addiction has supplanted my gray matter. Well, not this time Mr. Editor! This one's got to come out.

Yesterday I was cruising down the highway on the way to play outdoor soccer. Radio up, windows down, straight-up Cruise-Inn! I was enjoying it so much, I almost didn't notice when a peculiar thought snuck into my head. At that exact moment 25 or so people were in various stages of converging on a soccer field. In this game there were sure to be lots of tackles, challenges, and shot opportunities. The success of these are largely determined by the ability to get to the right place at the right time and do the right thing. I started envisioning the road trip as something more than a noisy interlude juxtaposed between being at home and playing soccer. I started envisioning it as part of the soccer game itself. Each turn, lane change, stop sign became part of the multitude of things that must go exactly to plan if I was to arrive to make the play on the field at the moment of truth. Instead of my usual rocking out, I found myself getting mentally into "game mode". I thought about each footstep that I would take, the speed of the passes, how to strike the ball impeccably, the angles of pursuit. In the middle of this my inner editor said "What, do you think any of this will actually help?". "Nothing ventured...", I cliched back. So I continued. After I had gone through most of the iterations for defending(my main duty as a younger player) I dared to imagine myself finishing a great run with a stupendous strike, garnering the adulation of my adversaries and teammates alike. If you know me and my playing, you understand how far I had strayed from reality. Quite far, indeed. Nevertheless, I looked up into the rear view mirror to find a stalwart and purposeful soccer player staring right back at me. He looked ready.

At kickoff there was no rush of anxiety. My moves were deliberate. "Take your time, play to your strengths". The hypothetical advice echoed internally. "Patience, patience, choose your angles wisely" It was like I was coaching myself and playing at the same time. Near halftime our captain had given instructions to play "possession" soccer, which is to say that we had plenty of goals and should take it easy on them. I distinctly remember that NOW, but during the heat of the match his voice was outmatched by my inner coach. It was this coach that said "Put a move on that striker and carry the ball up the field." So I did. Not the most conservative play for an overweight central fullback whose team is up 3-0. "But so what, I will most likely end up passing it off anyway", I rationalized. The midfielder was on me quite a bit later than he could have been and I found myself at midfield facing his challenge. The anxious me would have tried to force it through him and end up behind the ball AND the man, racing back guiltily to defend his goal. This was not the anxious me. This was the patient me who waited for the man to commit to the tackle and maintained balance throughout, coming away with possession of the ball and an inordinate amount of space to play. The dogs were now coming full tilt. By now all the alarms were going off in my head. "What ARE you doing?", I thought. "You have crossed midfield, now PASS that ball!". Still, I nervously declined to heed.

Now two defenders were on me. "That happened fast!" was my first thought. "...because you are so slow! Now PASS", my editor intoned. Negative. I stopped the ball mid-run, just before both defenders could close me down and I cut hard to the middle of the field. They blew by me in an instant. When I got my head up, I noticed that I was running parallel to the top line of the 18-yard box with room to spare. I was bracing for the stiff challenge that usually comes when you try to dribble around the top of the box. To my amazement, it never materialized! What I did notice at this moment was my entire team screaming "SHOOT IT!". I tapped the ball out in front of me and wound up my leg muscles with a vision so intensely focused on the ball I could have etched my name, address, and number into it. I didn't bother to look for the goal frame, I FELT it in every fiber of my being. When I struck the ball, I knew it was good. I caught it perfectly with my laces and sent it cracking with a wicked spin that was not unlike something you see in professional bowling. It bent from high above and beyond the line of the right post, across the face of goal, and ducked into the left corner of the net, just clearing the crossbar at the last possible moment. Unstoppable. Completely, utterly unstoppable. I heard someone gleefully exclaim "Van der Saar couldn't have stopped that one!" A bent rope to the top corner from 20 yards out. Simply a brilliant strike. My team went crazy. The other team rushed over to congratulate me. I had the strange sensation of deja-vu and told my inner grouch "...nothing gained!"

I marvel about how much time we spend travelling from point A to point B mindlessly and how much better served we would all be to make that time more productive. I have a feeling my next soccer match will start even before I turn the ignition, and I am getting excited already.

Just don't ask me to play "possession"!