Eating a little dirt…

Our first game was today. Everything I imagined my team to be the day of our first practice, this team was. Big, mean, ugly (okay, I don’t know if they were particularly ugly), and tough. I nicknamed them los toros. One girl, La Bestia. Another, La Tren.

I was a nervous wreck starting the night before. Had to take a sleep aide just to calm my nerves enough to sleep. I went early to the camp where we were meeting. Had a nice relaxing picnic lunch, courtesy of my Spanish mother, and read a book for about 1 hour. There was also an impromptu photo shoot in there, but that’s not important.

When the other chicks arrived, most of them were extremely pumped and ready to go, but I could tell a lot of us were just flat our bundles of nerves, and frayed nerves at that. I didn’t want to die. I’m still so young…

Jackie, the other American, was doing a countdown the entire car ride there. “Only two more hours left to go, Monique.” “Oh my god, Monique, we only have an hour and a half left.” “Monique,” arm slap, “there’s only 5 minutes less time left than the last time I alerted the world.” Hehe Instead of annoying the hell out of me, it was cute. She was nervous and excited and I could sympathize with that. There is hope for me yet, I suppose.

Anyway, we got to the field, finished changing and headed out for warm-ups. I was trying to focus on what the coach was saying, and not focus on the fact that I was wearing loose shorts to do physical exercise for the first time in many, many moons. Trying not to worry about the fact that someone might possibly be able to see my chonies while I did my hamstring stretch to the right, and trying miserably not to snatch glimpses over at the other team who was also warming up and working on their intimidation from the other side of the field.

The first play, my first question, “How do we start the game?” something I guess I should have known, but I didn’t. And apparently, I wasn’t the only one. But it starts and the first play, I think we’re scored on. I ran the chick down and pushed her right as she was crossing the goal line. Unfortunately for us, she still crossed the goal line and scored. Even more unfortunate for us, she was one of their best players, and I happened to shove her in a mud hole. She was covered head to toe in mud the first play. She shook her finger at me. I’d managed to piss off their best player within 30 seconds of the game starting.
Lord, help us.

But help us, he did not. Hehe Play after play, they rammed into us, ran us over, threw us down. Now, don’t get me wrong. We fought hard. But they had an endless supply of women. They were rotating and swapping like a speed dating match. We, on the other hand, had exactly 13 players. We’re supposed to have 15 to even be playing. So nobody was going anywhere. Pah.

One woman, a big beefy hunk of woman-flesh, seemed to be aiming for me. She first took out my right shoulder when I botched a “rack” (a tackle). The next time, it was my left. No one could seem to take her down. Sometimes it took three of us peons jumping on her to get her to the ground. But, Lorena alerted me last night, that she had finally taken her down. And for some reason that doesn’t surprise me one bit. That Lorena’s a tough cookie. She’s the type that could be sucking on a lollipop and stab you in one motion. Just kidding, Lore. But she’s pretty tough. I, on the other hand, was staying as far away as possible from beefy woman-flesh. I had to do everything in my power not to run FROM her.

For 80 minutes, we were danced around, taunted, embarrassed, pushed, shoved, beat-up, stepped on, and flung (I was actually flung AND spun simultaneously at one point. It ended in my doing a somersault. Olympic quality, really). But in the end, we were victorious. We won.

Pah. Didn’t you read anything I just said? Hopefully you didn’t believe that.

We ended the game with a victory of that we all had our limbs and no one left on a stretcher; on paper we lost by a whopping 20-0. But I didn’t feel bad. I don’t think any of us did. Despite the royal spanking we got, I had a lot, a lot, a lot of fun.

At the end of the game, we did the customary hand-slapping, butt touching, sports womanly thing that teams do (don’t understand it, myself) and the mud eater withdrew her hand and stepped aside. Some people! So you ate a little mud and still kicked our butts. Get over it!

It was our first game and we made it through. It seemed like the longest 80 minutes in history.

**I must give a special shout out to Jackie who, I think, stunned us all. She was everywhere, taking out big women, clipping knees, hanging onto thighs. I really didn’t expect her to be such a tiger, but she was dirty, she was hurt, she worked her butt off. And I was oddly, but not really, really proud of her. Way to go Jack Jack.

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