Spring Break
Out of my league
Dan Kukla
Issue date: 10/24/08 Section: Sports
You play ball like a girl.
It's the last thing any self-respecting male athlete wants to hear. But I found out the hard way that the only reason I don't play ball like a girl is because I play it much worse.
For reasons still not entirely clear to me, I desired to practice with the Miami University women's soccer team. The intramural sports junkie part of me wanted to experience competition at the DI-A level. The arrogant guy part of me wanted to prove that picking a then 3-7-1 team of women ensured a certain degree of success.
As the adage says, pride comes before the fall.
After 10 minutes of light jogging and stretching to warm up, head coach Bobby Kramig gathered us around for the first drill.
Essentially, we played a giant game of keep-away. Half the girls wore bright yellow jerseys to distinguish a team from the white practice uniforms. Those wearing red (the two goalies and I) were all-time offense. The objective was to pass the ball around without turning it over. Teams received points for one-touch passes between teammates.
Although this provided a relatively simple way for me to get my feet wet, one fear still gripped me:
"What if they just ignore me and I never touch the ball?"
The drill certainly had the potential to feature me running around as invisible Mr. Cellophane without seeing one pass come my way.
Several minutes into the game, however, a new fear replaced this original one: failure.
Junior Kersta Carlson broke the awkward tension and fed me the ball. In an attempt to earn a point, I prepared to tap it straight back to her, only to watch in dismay as the ball shanked off my foot right to a defender.
"Come on Dan," assistant coach Shane Meridith mockingly screamed from the sideline.
Next came a long-pass drill.
Cones marked off a portion of the field into four linear 10-foot sections, with the two center quadrants divided by four-foot flags. The object was to kick the ball over the flags while standing in the far sector. Three quadrants away waited a teammate ready to receive the 40-foot aerial pass. Players received a point for each successfully completed cross.
It's the last thing any self-respecting male athlete wants to hear. But I found out the hard way that the only reason I don't play ball like a girl is because I play it much worse.
For reasons still not entirely clear to me, I desired to practice with the Miami University women's soccer team. The intramural sports junkie part of me wanted to experience competition at the DI-A level. The arrogant guy part of me wanted to prove that picking a then 3-7-1 team of women ensured a certain degree of success.
As the adage says, pride comes before the fall.
After 10 minutes of light jogging and stretching to warm up, head coach Bobby Kramig gathered us around for the first drill.
Essentially, we played a giant game of keep-away. Half the girls wore bright yellow jerseys to distinguish a team from the white practice uniforms. Those wearing red (the two goalies and I) were all-time offense. The objective was to pass the ball around without turning it over. Teams received points for one-touch passes between teammates.
Although this provided a relatively simple way for me to get my feet wet, one fear still gripped me:
"What if they just ignore me and I never touch the ball?"
The drill certainly had the potential to feature me running around as invisible Mr. Cellophane without seeing one pass come my way.
Several minutes into the game, however, a new fear replaced this original one: failure.
Junior Kersta Carlson broke the awkward tension and fed me the ball. In an attempt to earn a point, I prepared to tap it straight back to her, only to watch in dismay as the ball shanked off my foot right to a defender.
"Come on Dan," assistant coach Shane Meridith mockingly screamed from the sideline.
Next came a long-pass drill.
Cones marked off a portion of the field into four linear 10-foot sections, with the two center quadrants divided by four-foot flags. The object was to kick the ball over the flags while standing in the far sector. Three quadrants away waited a teammate ready to receive the 40-foot aerial pass. Players received a point for each successfully completed cross.
Be the first to comment on this story