Soccer season arrives, you’re excited until you start waking up at 6:30 a.m. every day during the summer. As the first game is on, you arrive expecting to play just to realize you’re warming up the bench. It’s not a big deal, it’s still August and it’s easier to tan while sitting down. It isn’t until you’re laying there camouflaging between the soccer bags; laying like a lizard taking the sun in that your coach yells for you to jump in. You scramble up and trip between bags and *****, making your way to the sideline. You do the final stretches and make your way in awkwardly lifting your hand to high-five your teammate coming out who misses it completely. Then it’s game on, it is time to start playing. But that is not how it goes. 15 minutes into the game you realize you have roamed the same 15 square foot area all this time. I got the ball once, I controlled it on my feet. Yeah, I know. Unfortunately when I turned the ball found it’s way between my legs and fell into the opposite player. ******. I’m getting a good tan though; I think I was supposed to get that pass, I slowly jog towards it. Should I? Well now the ball is gone. Let’s go back to my 15 square foot area; my legs are tired. I see the ball coming from up in the air, I’ve never done this. I’m running, just keep running. No, that’s the sun not the ball. There’s the ball, jump, jump. jump. I jump and a 200 pound guy crashes with me, I’m on the floor. Done.