I had one of those experiences Sunday I hate to waste, so I am writing about it. No, it was not one of those emotional wrenching kind of moments that brings tears to the eyes. It was more like a body wrenching experience that brings out the Excedrin bottle, and a heat pad. I played soccer with Koreans. Yes, you heard me, I played soccer with the big boys. It was kind of like me trying to keep up with the Blue Angels doing loops and dives at Mach 1. No-way-Jose! My Korean enemies, I mean opponents, were dressed up in their Nike soccer wear. They looked like a bunch of Brazilian players out to avenge their loss to Argentina.
They took to the field first and practiced for 20 minutes while my team was eating kimchee and drinking coffee. They were kicking goals from 50 yards out with no sweat!
When we finally took to the field we looked like a team that had arrived off a hay-rack wagon from Georgia: blue jeans and tee shirts. Not a Nike outfit on any of us. I knew we were outmatched!
We did not practice, we just ate and headed for the field. When Koreans play soccer they always line up facing each other at mid-field and bow. Some of them say things under their breath. I don't know Korean but it sure sounded like the guy in front of me said, "You're mine American!" Was that a laugh I heard?
I didn't even know the rules. I hurriedly went up to my new Uganda friend (they play soccer in Uganda) and asked him what part of the body can and cannot touch the ball. He told me no part of the arm from the shoulder down could make contact. There were other parts of the body I hit the ball with later that should be illegal, if you know what I mean. It has been years since I went down so quickly on my knees in a praying position, groaning! Is that what it means to "groan in the spirit?" When I told my teammates in a rather high-pitched voice that I suddenly felt like praying they just laughed and left me on my knees alone with God.
I found out that hitting the ball with your head won't kill you, it just makes you wish it did. Three times I hit the ball with my head. Even my enemies, sorry, even my opponents said, "good play!" Easy for them to say, they weren't the one half-dazed wondering around in a circle!
I was told we would play for 20 minutes. For 20 minutes I ran, OK, walked fast, up and down the field trying to look good. When the final whistle blew I felt great knowing I was still standing, OK, wobbling may be a better word. I went over to the side line and gulped down some Mango juice and a few bites of kimchee. Little did I know that this was only half time! Koreans apparently don't tell you everything!
For another 20 minutes, which seemed like hours, I waddled up and down the field. I kept asking the referee how much time was left, but I forgot I was in Korea, in fact, I had forgotten most things by then. He just motioned for me to get back.
When the final final whistle blew we had been soundly beaten. Imagine that! After crawling to the side line gasping for air I asked Bonnie if she got any pictures. "Of course not, " she said. "I didn't think it was that important!" When we went back onto the field to do our final bow and hand shakes my Korean opponents (got it) told me how good I had played. I walked off the field feeling like I could walk on water. I had played with the big boys and lived to tell about it! Then it hit me, if I could walk on water Bonnie wouldn't take any pictures, so why bother?
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