Isabelle's State Final...The goals.

These are the goals scored by Diablo FC in our game. You may recall that we were down by 2 at the half. My article was off on a few points, but only slightly.

What I Missed

Isabelle had a tournament, called Kick Or Treat, while I was away at World Fantasy. Players were not allowed on the pitch unless wearing a costume. Her team went with Rock Stars as their shared theme. It must have worked, as they placed second.


DFC 02 | THUNDER 2011 from e3 webmedia on Vimeo.

Pain Can Be Such Pleasure

In a lot of pain just now.

Twenty-one years ago I played my last soccer game. The family had moved to Switzerland for my last two years of high school. I played just as hard and fast as I had for my Varsity squad in Peoria.  I received a yellow card each game. The cards, coupled with the language barrier that prevented me getting to know my teammates, killed my desire to play.  Instead I played rugby a few times, thoroughly enjoying it.

But I didn't continue to play rugby when I returned to the States, and never returned to soccer either.
Most of the soccer leagues I might have attempted were a little hard-core for me, as out of shape as I was and with my concern that I not hurt myself, preventing me from working.

Last week The Coolness played in a local coed 30+ league. I watched as her team played their asses off.  They had no bench and insufficient bodies to cover all positions.

Regardless, both teams had lots of fun, and had great attitudes.

I was in.

This week, I played goalie for The Coolness' team. I showed up kitted out and ready to play in that position, as last week's goalie had pulled a calf muscle and couldn't play.

As I was warming up, I hear, "Barber."

I look over and it's one of my Academy classmates, who lives south of SF, but comes out to play most weekends. Small world.

Warmed up, I stepped on the field for the first time in 21 years to play a position I don't recall ever playing in a real match. The opposing team had us outnumbered and outclassed, shooting five shots for every opportunity we had. It wasn't a matter of lack of skill: once again we had less than a full squad, and no relief.

I discovered exactly how poor my conditioning is. I am so glad I wasn't playing in a position that might have required me to actually run for extended periods.

I made about twelve saves, a few of which were quite good. My daughter watched the entire game, mostly from a seat behind me in goal, offering encouragement and fetching balls that rocketed past.

I did let four pass me by: Two were simple errors I pray I won't make again. One was a beautifully arranged shot that the player slipped in over my head, and the fourth was a free kick that the ref called but that could have gone either way.

We scored no goals.

The opposing team will certainly remember me. I unintentionally put a player from the other team out with one of my punts. Trying to clear the ball to an open forward, the ball left my foot like a rocket and connected with the guy's face six feet from my foot.

So now, I smell like a mint julip, hurt like I haven't in ages, and am happy as a clam.

I feel so good.

What I've Been About, And Mad Chortles

I only just realized I hadn't posted a thing yesterday and had yet to do anything today. So, here goes:

Isabelle and I went to see Tangled, and both enjoyed it immensely. It was also the first movie using modern 3-D techniques I've seen. Quite remarkable. I don't feel it was a requirement for the film, which quite stood on its own without such gimmicks. Then again, Isabelle stretched out her hands many times to touch things, which was a joy to watch. My heart swells each time Isabelle reaches out that way to take my hand.

The rest of Thanksgiving was quite nice, with friends and family about. The meal was excellent, as usual. I think next year I will get to frying turkeys again. I had a request for one, and wish I could have filled that order.

Today was sit around, nap, put the brain in neutral and enjoy leftovers and my daughter's company. Tonight, more of the same. Tomorrow, dare I hope, even more.

As part of today's fun, I also watched a movie I never expected to watch, let alone enjoy: Bandslam. It stayed with tropes, but the characters were well performed, and the character motivations seemed much more keenly adhered to and different from those of the average teen movie.

The only thing, aside from this post, that I've done that was close to writing was downloading the new version of Scrivener and attending #litchat and #scifichat in the twitterverse.

I might write some tonight, but ideas for Bridge of The Broken and Eyes of The Alley are currently percolating in the back of my mind. While they are edging toward the front, they don't yet feel quite ready to flee out through the fingertips.

Part of what drives this desire to let things percolate is, having written a solid section for Bridge of the Broken, I found that while I intend to keep it, its proper place is not in the book. I will instead use it as my guide to 'what really happened'.

I will enjoy reading, polishing,tweaking, even chortling madly over it. Those of you I've run roleplaying games for will surely know what my mad chortle means, and fear for the characters...

Speaking of which, tomorrow night The Greedy Little Bastards will be getting together at my place again. I plan to bring the pain. Indeed, I actually have a plan this time. Yes, there was a mad chortle there... You just might not have heard it.

Magickal Pharts

I found it interesting that my girl asked me the same question at least two of the UFGirlz also hit me with:  What's with the weird faces?

As you can see, my daughter is not only creative, she can also be a real stinker!

My Pink Pixie

Isabelle gives her father much to be proud of.  The best things in life are, unlike Conan's claims, the hugs of a happy daughter and the pride of watching her angle across the field to smoothly steal the ball from the opposing team and dribble downfield, passing or taking the shot herself, as the situation warrants.

It has been my distinct pleasure to coach her and six other girls this year.  The team, dubbed the Pink Pixies, had a shaky start, but showed what training and a desire to learn can bring.

As you can see, she's here to score goals and chew bubblegum, and she's all out of bubblegum:

And don't get me started on her academics.  I about blubbered in the parent-teacher conference this year.

Spain Wins, and Other Good News

Went to a friend's place to watch the World Cup Final.

We almost didn't go, as I figured finding parking would be a nightmare and I would be on guard the whole time, given that the neighborhood my friend lives in is my old foot beat. I was whining about it this morning, and Isabelle said, "Could we take BART?"

I shut my mouth. Such a perfect solution, and from my little girl.

We went, we watched, we enjoyed. Spain won it in the second half of overtime. Wonderful result, hard fought for.

Isabelle continues to impress me with her solution-oriented thinking...

Now, to write.

Why Being Daddy Explodes the Heart

I coach my daughter's soccer team. They are doing well. Very well, in fact. This Saturday my daughter stunned the opposing coach with her play. Stunned him so greatly he was talking about it four minutes later as he came off the field.

The pack was scrambling around the ball, my girl on the outside near the side boundary line across from me. One of the girls on the other team got a piece of the ball and tried to send it up the line past Isabelle.

Isabelle trapped the ball with her right foot, her left shoulder pointing towards the girl that had kicked it. The player on the other team continued to charge forward intending to get a foot in. In one fluid motion, Isabelle rolled the ball under her foot, tapped it with her heel to send it behind her and rolled out at a full run, dribbling the ball smoothly. The entire field was caught flat-footed by the move which she turned into a beautiful goal.

This had all happened not two yards in front of the opposing coach, whose mouth I watched drop open. I heard him say, "Did you see that? Where'd she learn that?"

A few minutes later, at the half, he was walking across the field and talking to the ref (that his team had supplied), "Did you see that #9's play? I wonder whose kid she is."

Ear-hustling on their conversation, I smiled and hooked a thumb at my chest, "That's my girl."

"Wow. That was pretty neat."

My heart about exploded from pride, "Sure was."

Sunday was Mother's Day, and I was bent on cooking a nice breakfast. In order to make that happen, I got up at about 0600 hours. I was in the midst of doing the dishes from the night before when I heard the pad of little feet. I turned around and there is Isabelle asking, "What can I do to help, Daddy?"

She had made sure to wake up early, knowing we were going to be cooking for Mommy. We worked our buns off, and made a very nice breakfast. When everything was just about done, she said, "Thank you very much for helping me cook and make a very special day for Mother's Day, Daddy," and hugged me.

My heart almost exploded again. I managed not to snivel, but I did have to wipe a tear away when she hugged me.

Reality shift

So we had a minor disaster today, a slight loss of control in my experiment caused a rift in the local space-time continuum. The resultant energy release threw the house sideways and all the little ones rattled around with it.

See, the cat is there under the dog, and Isabelle has her feet on their backs. Thankfully, they remained tranquilized by the solar emitter I placed just outside the window prior to initiating testing.

The secret experiment continues in, well, secrecy. I will not stop until I have mastered time and space in order to bring our master forth from his slumber....

Cthulhu Faghtn!