I began playing soccer in first grade, and if not for my coach that year I wouldn't have the amazing memories the deep seeded want to play that I do. You see Kelly was an amazing coach. She made it fun while still teachin us the basics. I even remember once she brought in another coach, someone semi-famous I think, and he worked us to the bone. I remember her even asking him to let us stop for a water break, I don't think he was used to working with young kids. She is perhaps the only coach I've had that made me feel like I was an asset to the team. I was our "special weapon" because I could see behind me without actually looking, this made me great at guarding other kids. I don't remember how long Kelly coached me, not more than a year or two, and she was off. She made a special poem for all of us, and there are times I can still remember a line or two. She was by far the best coach I've ever known.

Kelly was my first and only coach that wasn't a parent, at least not to any of us on the team. Once she left one of my teammate's mothers took over. This was a pretty exciting time too. I remember someone on the team one day forgot their shinpads for a game. We always had to rap our knuckles against our shinpads for the ref's so they would know we had them on. Well, our coach, being the quick thinking mother that she was, wrapped a couple of diapers around my teammates shins and we were ready for inspection. After her, I moved on to a male coach. He lived down the street from me and I was friends with his daughter. He was fun because he would let us "Kill the coach" at the end of practice every day. This consisted of him playing goalie and all of us pummeling soccer balls at him as fast as we could, we loved it.

Perhaps it was the change to middle school, but soon my coaches seemed to care more about drills then fun. The coaches now tend to blur together. There were two or three I believe, one in particular made us practice in hail, not much fun if you ask me. Though during this time my team also had the best record one year, and we even got a pizza party to celebrate. This was pretty exciting, and perhaps it was a testament to our coach, as the boys team he coached had done very well also. We even participated in our first soccer tournament. It was held at the middle school and everyone was trading patches from their team. While I don't remember as much from this time it was a lot better than what was to follow.

I didn't realize until quite recently that in order to excel at something you have to work, that is, unless you have a natural ability which I lacked. I never excelled at sports, though I loved them. It was a love hate relationship really, I loved them, they didn't care so much for me. So, it should have come as no surprise when I didn't make the soccer team the summer before my Freshman year of high school. I don't remember much about try-outs. Running, and being told I wouldn't be on the team, that's really about it. That spring I tried out for the softball team, and again, didn't make it. Though the next spring I tried out for softball, I had officially given up on soccer. I think I began to understand how much running soccer involved, and I was by no means a runner. But I have held out a secret hope that perhaps I could play soccer again sometime soon.

My college had a few racquetball courts that were open to the students, people rarely used them, and this is where I found my love of soccer again. I would bring a soccer ball in, and juggle it, and shoot, to my hearts content. I loved the thrill it gave me. But still I didn't touch a soccer ball on the field for a few more years. A few months back the urge to play became like a dragon, I just had to play. I found a few teams on craigslist, but none that were in my area, until one day. I e-mailed them and told them I would be at the next pick-up game.

I received an e-mail that went out to everyone reminding them of when the next pick-up game would be, and I became worried. The e-mail addresses were followed by their names, names I could barely pronounce. I wasn't sure who I would be playing with, but all of a sudden, I wasn't quite as excited. It turned out to be a bunch of Indian guys, would they accept me? I wondered, after all, women didn't play soccer did they? The first pass to me went sailing just past my head, and knocked the sunglasses I had so nicely perched there. So, perhaps I wasn't thinking when I did that, but I was still frustrated that they were known broken. They didn't pass the ball to me much, after all, they'd been playing together for a while, I was new and didn't fit in. I was quite discouraged but decided not to leave until they did. I never went back. I would still love to play. Though I think this time I will ensure that it is a team of women, or at the very least, co-ed. And I've even thought about joining an adult league, somewhere where perhaps I can learn the skills again that I once had. Maybe this time I will excel.