When Soccer Players Attack ... me
This weekend I nearly got into a fight while playing soccer. To give you perspective, this is a friendly co-ed game with a group of people I’ve played with for six years. Player ages range from the early twenties up to fifty something.
After a tough play, the other player (I’ll call him Bob to protect the guilty) and I got into a verbal argument. I’ve been in these shouting matches before. You yell at each other a bit making sure to look real angry. Eventually, someone else will yell “C’mon. Just play soccer!” and we’ll both agree to quit yelling and continue with the game.
But Oh No! Not this time. Bob had to go and change the rules on me. As the shouting match was in a normal bell-curve progression, he stepped toward me and shoved me hard. This shocked me. My thought process in that moment went something like this.
That a-hole just pushed me! Oh no he didn’t! No. Wait. He did. Now why would that moron do that? Doesn’t he realize this is a shouting not a shoving match? Damn, he’s pissed. He needs an anger management class. Come to think of it. I’m pissed too! He’s a good 4 to 5 inches taller than me. I don’t care, I should kick his ass. Hmmm… Then again, if I retaliate, I may not be allowed to continue playing. Hmmm… I’d rather play soccer than whoop Bob’s ass.
I’m a slow thinker, and by the time I reached this conclusion, there were five people between the two of us, and I hadn’t made any reaction except the look of shock on my face. He is definitely in need of an anger management class or two, but it also gave me pause to consider if I’ve been an angrier person lately. Certainly if you get me started talking about the Bush administration (and calling it an “administration” is being too kind. It’s more of a nitwit circus) I get in a furor. I certainly could have let Bob wag his finger at me without responding in an angry manner. But lately, I’ve lost all patience for fools. I do not suffer fools lightly. I’m becoming Huey from the Boondocks.