Last night was my first game in the Buckskin Soccer League, the local adult Soccer League. My team, the Rowdies, is in the C division (A is competitive, B is competitive, but for men over 30 and women, and C is well, not competitive). We are so non-competitive that we never paracticed, never met as a team nothing, beforehand.

I was recruited to the team by Catherine Gouge, a colleague of mine and an all around sporty type person, but she and the couple of other people I knew that she had recruited weren't there for various reasons, so when I arrived (amidst a thunderstorm, no less) I knew no one.

When I finally did locate my team, I had to confess to them that the last time I had put on shin guards was 1987. I'm 100 pounds heavier and 14 inches taller than I was then. I was small and quick then, and (because I wasn't really coordinated with either foot) claimed to be left footed, though I am right-handed. As for last night at 6:30? I didn't know whether I'd be able to kick left-footed or really even at all.

I streched and warmed up and figured out that I was still as reliable left footed as right footed, and my foot speed was still comparatively good, so I played left wing almost the whole night: two 45 minute halves, shorthanded, which meant that there were no subs. Our team scored no goals, but I think I was pretty successful getting the ball downfield and crossing it in. We just couldn't seal the deal. So ultimately, I think, score one for my legs, which after all these years, still remmembered a little soccer.

This morning? well, score one for the sport of soccer, which is having its revenge on my poor quads. Lots of water, lots of advil, and I'm going to try to get out for a walk this evening.