Liquid Courage.

Any one else notice that my blog titles usually have nothing to do with what I am writing at the time? Aren't I the clever fella?

It finally hit me. I have discussed my past and my regrets and how I have things I'd change. This without a doubt is something I would do over again. This one moment has pretty much defined me without ever really running through my mind much at all. Maybe I have changed certain memories cause it's kinda depressing and I may just be remembering things the way I want to. So be it. This is my take and I don't really know too many people who can contribute much to change the way it went down in my own mind. Except for maybe Coach Sondra, but I don't think she will be reading this any time soon.

Junior year of High School. Best I can recall I was 16 years old. I was the starting goalkeeper for the best division 3 varsity soccer team in the city. Perhaps by default, but I had the job. I can readily admit that I was not the heart and soul of the team. I was not making any all-conference teams, but for our team at the time I was in between the pipes. It was playoff time. As the number one seed in the playoffs, we earned a home game against a High School by the name of Ceres. I did nothing all day at school cause all I thought about was that game later that afternoon. As I write this I can feel that same tension and nervous excitement again running through me. A chance at immortality. Maybe that sounds like a cliche, but it is what it is. I heard talk of people actually being charged to attend the game cause it was a playoff game and certainly any chance for the section to make money off the kids is a good thing. Ok I made that part up, but it sounded funny didn't it? Final bell and now there was maybe 2 hours to kill till game time. I'm really not sure if I went home or just hung out at Manuel's house as was a usual occurrence back in those days. By the way Mom, thanks for all the food back in the day. I can remember getting to the field and seeing something that changed my life.

Someone else was in my goal.

I won't name him cause he doesn't deserve to even be named, but here is the back story. He was basically the kid who took my spot on the varsity team when I transferred overto Foothill High School as a sophomore. Coach Sondra felt I wasn't the right fit for the team at the time. Come the next year he was a field player and I was inserted in goal. He got injured about midway through the season and wasn't playing for us the rest of the season. Until that day. He dusted off his goalie uniform and got to the field early and started warming up for the game in MY goal. And yes I keep saying my goal cause it was my job. I had earned it all year and no one had questioned it all year as far as I know. It seemed to work out well for us considering our record and all, but on with the story.

I put my uniform on and then I stood on the sideline. WAITING. For someone. Anyone. To say something to me. For my coach to explain to me that this was the best move for the team cause he was the better goalie. For my replacement to walk up to me and talk to me about the situation. For my friends and teammates that I had spent nearly 5 months working with to get to this point to look in the goal and ask, "Where is Rich?" I waited. I got no answer. To make it worse I did not ask anyone why. I didn't ask my coach why. I didn't ask my teammates why I was being replaced. I have talked about that day with some of my friends and they don't really have a good answer for me. Part of me hated them for a while for just brushing me off as easily as my coach did. The part that makes me cringe even till this day?

I TOOK IT!

I watched someone else take my goal. I watched someone else play my playoff game. I watched my teammates that I thought depended on me go at it with someone else and they didn't even flinch. I watched for 100 minutes. If memory recalls we played two 40 minute halves and two 10 minute overtimes. I sat in my coat as the rain fell on us all and I did something that still to this day kinda disgusts me. I watched that second goal sail over the back-up goalies head in the final minute of that overtime as we lossed the game and I smiled. "GOOD!"

Talk about repressed anger and memories. My coach was running around trying to get her penalty kick list together as our 5'7" goalie gave up the game winner. Yes I mention his height cause maybe a slightly taller goalie makes the save that he couldn't. Perhaps revisionist history on my part cause no one really knows, but go with me on this one cause I'm being a jerk at the moment.

If you go back to Foothill High School and see the 1994 Capital Valley Conference championship banner for boys soccer hanging wherever it hangs at the school you will know one thing. I spent the next few years telling everyone that I wasn't apart of that team. I wasn't on the field at San Juan HS when we clinched the title cause the injured midfielder took my spot on that day as well. Maybe I should have said something then as well. Maybe I am just remembering this all differently for the effect of the story, but I got a descent memory. I don't recall my coach ever saying you gotta sit now cause our best goalie is back now and he is gonna finish the season for us. If memory serves me correctly He was given a game to perhaps feel him out and see how he was as far as coming back from the injury. The nature of the injury would prevent him from playing his normal midfield position, so the only way to get him in the lineup was through ME. I was good enough to help beat Rio Americano, Center and so on. I was good enough at the beginning of the season, but not the end. Maybe somewhere along the way I showed that I wasn't going to be good enough to get the job done come playoff time. Maybe my teammates didn't believe in me, so they told our coach to replace me. I wish I had a photographic memory, but this is gonna have to do.

Why do I tell this story to you? Cause I have always waited. Just like that. I didn't find a way to get my job back. I didn't go the extra mile to overcome the obstacle. I didn't shake the powers that be cause I wasn't a shaker or a mover. I was a witness to my own lil tragedy. The thing that I think about now? I never got to really know if I was good enough. My senior year we bowed out in the first round of the playoffs with a torn and tattered team as the same kid who replaced me in goal my Junior year yelled, "WAY TO BLOW IT FELLAS." Ya I do remember that clear as day. The last organized soccer game of my life and I got a turncoat teammate spitting on me after the final whistle. If I could relive that moment you can damn sure bet that I would throw the first punch in my life towards that SOB.

I still do it today. Wait that is. I believe I have what might be referred to as excellent self-recognition. I could tell you a lot more stories that followed this lil soccer story, but that would be redundant. I guess I finally found a new fuel. Maybe a slight chip on my shoulder would do me a lil good. I don't call it a grude anymore. Maybe for the first couple of years after, but not so much nowadays. I just wish I had more answers than questions. If that was the case I wouldn't be writing this here blog. So it would be a win-win for everyone, right? Self-deprecating humor is the best kind. No clever lines today after all that.

Oh wait! What are your measurements again Cassie? I gotta get the right sizes for that package. ( wink wink ) I really am just asking for a butt-kicking soon. But it's just too damn fun to insert foot into mouth and be EDGY! Rabble Rock people!