Futbol Soccer

My legs are sore.

The very first time I did squats, I couldn't poop. Not because I was constipated or anything. Squats don't mess with your digestive system unless you strain so hard that you poop out your intestines (this has actually happened, but not to me, thank Jesus). I was just so sore that I could not physically sit down on to the toilet. The pain of DOMS (delayed onset muscle soreness) was too much. My cousins used that opportunity to punch me in the legs and I'd go down like a sack of bricks, crying from the intense pain. 

My legs aren't that sore right now, but it hurts to put on my pants. I wanted to walk around without any pants, but Delma wasn't having any of it.

I wish that, someday, as a society, we can accept those who wish to wear no pants. But until that day comes, I have to grin and wear it. 

My legs are sore because I played soccer. Futbol, I mean. I played futbol soccer yesterday. I joined our work league and I played futbol soccer yesterday and I was really bad and our first game is on Tuesday.

It's not the first time I've played futbol soccer.

The first time was in kindergarten and I tried kicking the ball, but I missed completely and pulled a Charlie Brown. That's not a euphemism or anything. It's a term that implies kicking something really hard, but you miss and your feet fly into the air and you land on your back. THAT'S what Mr. C means when he tells you to Charlie Brown during the 'Cha-cha-slide.' 

Anyway, I kicked the futbol soccer ball and I missed and Charlie Browned and landed on my back in the mud. All the other kids laughed at me. I had to go to the nurse's office and they had to call my mom and she had to bring me a change of clothes because it looked like I had explosively diarrhead upwards onto my back. 

I haven't gotten much better since then.

In college, we had to take two PE classes. I took cardio kickboxing and futbol soccer. I was MUCH better at cardio kickboxing than I was at futbol soccer, mainly because my mom and I would do a lot of Tae Bo when I was in middle school (my dad wasn't around to play futbol soccer with me so I hung out with my mom a lot). 

During the second week of my futbol soccer class, I twisted my ankle while stretching my hammies. 

During the sixth week of my futbol soccer class, I tried to kick the futbol soccer ball to my teammate, but ended up missing and kicking another teammate in the shin.

During the final week of my futbol soccer class, I was goalie for our exhibition game against the other futbol soccer class and I let in twelve goals. Twelve. I did block one though. With my face.

I wasn't that bad yesterday, but I wasn't that good either. I wasn't even that decent. At best, I wasn't a hindrance to my teammates, which is all anyone can really ask for.

Mas ayuda el que no estorba. 

My mom would say that to me all the time when I was growing up. It means "You can help more by not bothering me." I would try to help her clean and would end up making an even bigger mess. So she'd tell me to just stay out of her way.

In that sense, playing futbol soccer yesterday was a success. I didn't get in anybody's way. Mission accomplished, guys.

I just wish I could kick the futbol soccer ball further than fifteen feet. I can't tell whether it's my technique or lack of leg strength. Probably a combination of both. 

Delma says I should do more squats.

I say I don't want to poop out my intestines.

We'll just agree to disagree. 

You say tomato. I say futbol soccer.