The Last Ephor

I get tons of emails about playing soccer with me on Wednesday nights. (OK, that actual number might be closer to zero) Herewith is why I play. Ignore the glitz and glam. The scenes of playing are dead on. This was directed by the ever brilliant Guy Ritchie

That's right. Wednesday night soccer. 8 PM in Middletown. Let the manly among you come forth and be counted. All others will be eaten. More info available on request.

I've been playing soccer one night a week in a pickup game for a few months now. Most of the players are a bit older (late 20's and up) and generally trying to get in shape. The games aren't serious and we rarely call (or need to call) fouls. A week ago I was running full speed for a ball that was headed for the opponents net. I was two steps away from a one on one with the keeper. Out of nowhere, a defenseman shoulders me and I hit the turf. Hard. I landed fully on my shoulder and heard a crunch. I was in white hot agony almost instantly. I sat for the rest of the night and went home. I figured I just jammed it and it would hurt of a while. If it still hurt after that, I'd see the doctor. After a few days, it still hurt and range of motion was a problem. I would try and lift something with my right arm and my arm would not go above chest level. It was not pain stopping me, it just wouldn't go. Not good. I called the doctor and explained the situatio...

Teenage drowning victims identified . I feel sick. Remember that soccer game I've been playing on Wednesday nights? Leonard was one of the players. I can't say I knew him, but I knew who he was. It's jarring to know that I played soccer with him on Wednesday and he was dead on Saturday. I played with him for his last game and he was 16. 16 years old and he's gone. My heart breaks for the parents. I have no idea how you go on after something like that.

I've been holding out on my reader(s). I've been playing soccer for the first time in literally a decade. We play once a week at from 8:30 until 10:00ish. I got roped into this by someone we'll call Brian. A few weeks ago when we started this I met Brian at his house so I could follow him to the field. We got there and there were only 7 guys. We took sides and I touched the ball to start the game. Brian took one step and tore his ACL. As he's writhing on the ground writhing in agony I say; "You are in so much trouble." His wife's parting words to us were "Don't get hurt". "I know" he said sucking in air and making sounds like a leaking tire that swears. That was the end of his summer career. In fact, he just had surgery this week to repair his leg. Some guys will do anything for attention. Anyway, back to the story... As we're making the initial introductions, three guys are wearing Red Bull New York gear. As ask one...