the 4th star

Above stands a different Vergara. Kudos if you picked up on the theme here. Much more photogenic than the local soccer official, don’t you think? Here’s some more of Sofia. And some more. And a little more. Hell, at this point, why not take the whole day off? It’s not like you’re going to get anything done now.

After ignoring a 25 year layoff, with three of those spent begging to play, I have decided to make a triumphant return to the beautiful game. In a stunning act of charity, the Crescentwood Saturday Soccer Club has done the unthinkable and allowed me to play with them in the Winnipeg Soccer Division this summer. If I can score one goal this year, I’d be pretty happy. Judging from my inconsistent play, my teammates would be equally ecstatic, too. Here’s the weekly update:

1. Try not to look stupid.
2. Contribute in some small way.
3. Hustle.
4. Keep good position out there.

Now it’s debatable if I have managed to hold up any part of the first three points. I’m pretty sure I look ridiculous when the ball comes my way. I’m surprised I haven’t stepped on the ball and broke an ankle yet. Or popped it. And as far as what I’m adding to the experience goes, well, let’s just say that being a warm body at the start of the game is the basic form of contribution provided — and I’m barely doing that with this mother of all Charley Horses I currently am riding. As for the third one. Well, running around takes little skill.

But the fourth on the list was a must. I told myself at the start of the year:

Wazoo, if you’re going to do this, at least try to play your position.

To which I responded: OK, handsome. Have you been working out?

Early on I asked people if I was doing a good job up front, wondering if they needed me somewhere else when they had the ball. I was a sponge when it came to where I was supposed to be. I just wanted to be an option. They didn’t know that I sucked yet, so maybe they’d pass it to me. Others up front would drift into my area but I would not answer by drifting the other way. Being in a good spot on the field was the simplest, most basic attribute I could bring to the team. It’s the one thing I hoped to do well, and as the season went on I felt like I was doing just that.

That’s why last night’s game, a 6-2 victory over the BFR A.C. was so unsatisfying for myself. The reason: Offside calls. On me. A couple times in the first half and a couple times in the second half. On me. Number fifteen. Offside. Me.

Now call me what you want (a jerk-off, a terrible soccer player, a wanker, a douchebag…feel free to stop me at any time) but if there’s one thing I know, it’s the offside rule. It’s my biggest worry when trying to keep my position. Don’t go offside, don’t go offside, don’t go offside. I spend 80 percent of my time on the defensive line, moving up and down it, so I know when I’m offside and when I’m not. Staying onside is the one thing I can actually do with any consistency (ed note: I do better without the ball).

All told last night, CSSC was whistled for an offside infraction about 212 times.

As for the game when the action wasn’t suspended do to another phantom offside call, CSSC jumped out to a 2-0 lead, led by a goal at the break, and then pulled away in the second half as the under-manned opponents started to snipe and bicker. I scored a goal, thanks to a nice cross from DK which somehow deflected off my side into the netting. And it was only my third chance of the night, not the usual ten that’s required until personal celebration takes hold.

For those of you scoring at home, that’s two goals in two games. Floodgates, people.