The last time (before this time) I got a black eye was in a bar fight a few years ago. Of course it was in a bar fight the night before we flew back home to Wifey's family for Thanksgiving. That just does it, don't it? A black eye to make the in-laws feel real good about you? This last Sunday morning, playing my normal Sunday pickup soccer game, some goon flies outta no where, a good second or two after I had already headed the ball, cranium right into my left eye. Big old golf ball sized swell, right away. And of course, this all happens just two days before I am supposed to attend my very first glitzy movie premiere. That just does it, don't it? A black eye to make the celebrities feel real good about you? So last night during my maiden voyage as a hanger-on, the Diner Old Boys got into a fight. I wish I had been there. I really enjoyed the film, mind you, but I wish I had been in that fight. Someone kicked Terry and Terry tried to punch someone, there was field length run by an opposing goalie resulting in a rugby tackle, a clearing of the benches, and, in the end, a futile loss for the club. Fighting gets a bad rap in my book. The kind of incoherent, unnecessary rapture that attends a childishly absurd fracas is something to experience. Perhaps not as much as possible, but with a certain annual rhythm in mind. The key, of course, is to surround yourself at all times by those with a keen inability to fight. And no better place for that than an adult co-ed soccer league centered squarely in the middle of hipsterdom. While I bumbled over an insecurity-swollen tongue, trying with obvious difficulty to play it cool, my teammates were biting ankles, throwing haymakers and humiliating themselves with another kind of wanton exertion perhaps more valuable.
The last time (before this time) I got a black eye was in a bar fight a few years ago. Of course it was in a bar fight the night before we flew back home to Wifey's family for Thanksgiving. That just does it, don't it? A black eye to make the in-laws feel real good about you? This last Sunday morning, playing my normal Sunday pickup soccer game, some goon flies outta no where, a good second or two after I had already headed the ball, cranium right into my left eye. Big old golf ball sized swell, right away. And of course, this all happens just two days before I am supposed to attend my very first glitzy movie premiere. That just does it, don't it? A black eye to make the celebrities feel real good about you? So last night during my maiden voyage as a hanger-on, the Diner Old Boys got into a fight. I wish I had been there. I really enjoyed the film, mind you, but I wish I had been in that fight. Someone kicked Terry and Terry tried to punch someone, there was field length run by an opposing goalie resulting in a rugby tackle, a clearing of the benches, and, in the end, a futile loss for the club. Fighting gets a bad rap in my book. The kind of incoherent, unnecessary rapture that attends a childishly absurd fracas is something to experience. Perhaps not as much as possible, but with a certain annual rhythm in mind. The key, of course, is to surround yourself at all times by those with a keen inability to fight. And no better place for that than an adult co-ed soccer league centered squarely in the middle of hipsterdom. While I bumbled over an insecurity-swollen tongue, trying with obvious difficulty to play it cool, my teammates were biting ankles, throwing haymakers and humiliating themselves with another kind of wanton exertion perhaps more valuable.
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I think I agree with you. I'd like to let my inner tank abbot out a bit more. it's a question of venue for me. It matters perhaps on a more primary level where the fighting happens. on a soccer field sounds perfect.
I think you both would have been horrified if you saw what I saw last night. Toddy, I'm glad you weren't there. Fighting is always violent, but when it's preceded by extreme stupidity and recklessness it always makes it harder to watch. That's why I was sad to hear they got rid of White Collar boxing at Gleason's Gym. Regular folks putting the gloves on in the ring and belting the piss out of each other while their friends watch. Todd, maybe we can do that on your roof some day.
I want to hear a first hand account of the fight.
Ah, Eyore over there, spoiling our fantastical myths about fights where the thing is broken up just in time to allow a few wayward punches, a number of missed swings, lots of panting, more than a little adrenaline shaking and a pint bought afterward for the loser.
What do you mean, that doesn't happen anywhere but in movies about men on ships, men on the assembly line or men in uniforms?
Sheesh, let us hold on to our dreams already...
For Kevin: We're losing 2-1 to a shitty team. 30 minutes into a 50-minute game a guy on our team, Kevin, commits a late, ugly flagrant, senseless foul (he full on kicks a guy in the leg after the play is dead). The usual threats ensue. They are held apart by their teammates. Meantime, the goalie is approaching Kevin from about 40 yards away, full speed, unbeknownst to all of us. He tackles Kevin hard and is pulled off before he can do any more damage. Both keeper and Kevin are ejected. Kevin apologizes profusely and claims temporary insanity. (I'm not kidding)
Cut to 2 minutes left in the game, we're still losing 2-1. We have a free kick from about 20 yards out. Terry our resident danger-man and all-around pain in the ass, is vying for position. He is flagrantly kicked hard in the leg (retribution for Kevin's earlier foul or because Terry had just done something nasty that no one saw). Terry elbows, turns and pops the guy in the face. (a nice punch, by the way) He is instantly covered by almost every male on the other team, including the previously ejected goalie, and some guy who was dressed in street clothes. The women are kicking him while he's down.
I should have just stood and let him get his ass kicked, but instead I try to pull people off him and get an elbow in the mouth for my troubles.
Todd, I was wrong. You should have been there.
I know! Fracas! I could have two black eyes"!
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