Num. 37, 38, 39 - YNWA

37. I feel like I've got at least one more book in me, and I worry that I will make it too complicated.
I'm working on this. Instead of feeling like I'm running out of time as I approach my mid-fifties, it feels like I finally have something I want to share. 

38. I am comfortable being alone and working alone. But, I love being with people and accomplishing things with others.
Working alone affords me the space to think much longer without interruption, shape ideas, and understand more. Rejoining my colleagues, friends, or family energizes and rejuvenates me. At the end of the day, I look forward to reconnecting with Meeka or an impromptu happy hour with our neighbors. Catching up with my kids on the phone or by text brings me joy and encouragement. For me, isolation is best when balanced by connection and vice versa.  

39. I wish I had played football growing up. Not American Football
I grew up playing tennis. I loved the sport in my youth and probably would still enjoy it if I spent more time playing it. I occasionally enjoy watching tennis on television when the players aren't grunting like every shot is their last dying gasp! But, seriously, isn't that so annoying?! 

All three of my kids took up football very early (Soccer is the name most Americans use to refer to what the rest of the world calls football. It's not wrong. Still, I prefer football since, after all, the sport is predominantly played at your feet.) Our three kids quickly found a challenging activity that connected them with teammates in the sport. They all excelled, poured countless hours into improving, learned valuable lessons about themselves, played matches across the state of Texas and beyond, and endured all sorts of frustrations and disappointments along the way. Meeka and I loved watching them play, too. I hated to see them lose, but there was something in every match that gave me a deep sense of pleasure. Don't get me wrong, I had my fair share of frustrations! And, yes, I might have "spoken" to refs from the touchlines (sidelines) a time or two. But, it was ultimately an absolute joy watching them and supporting them. 

Along the way, I became a fan of the sport in the world. I love that it is, in fact, a worldwide sport that has so many cultural infusions and influences. I also love the simplicity of the match. Unlike American Football, there are so few rules. Another departure from football, basketball, and baseball, the footballers (players) have to improvise and execute without the aid of timeouts, huddles, and play-callers shouting at them through an earpiece. Instead, when the whistle blows, the 22 players (11 a-side) on the pitch (field) decide the match's outcome through creative, skillful, and gritty play!

Speaking of grit, the endurance required to play at a high level is without parallel. The average player in the middle of the pitch will run over six miles in a match! Most of those miles are covered in wind sprints and eat up tons of oxygen in the leg muscles. Yet, with heavy legs and a pounding heart, the professional footballer still manages silky touches and missile-like strikes to the back of the net (goals!). Amazing!

Let's address the ugly elephant in the room: diving or flopping. In the rules that govern the sport, diving is known as simulation. Whatever you want to call it, we all agree it's an ugly and unfortunate part of football. It is disgusting watching otherwise healthy, strong, coordinated men throw themselves to the ground at the slightest contact while glancing at the referee, hoping to get a call. Players who simulate fouls like this are supposed to be given a yellow card (two yellows get you thrown out of the match and your team plays a man down the remaining time, and you're suspended from the next match). But, for whatever reason, refs throughout the world are slow to show yellow for the deception. So I say, Stop the flop!

Speaking of disciplinary actions in football, few people know about my infamy in the local church league several years ago. But, I'm not going to lie. I'm proud of my reputation among the 10 people who know I earned the only two red cards that season. In fact, my appreciation for the sport grew because I received those cards. You see, I was working hard on the pitch, working up and back. I was covering a lot of ground and trying to make good passes and lawful tackles (a tackle is when you take the ball from the opposing player; this particular league didn't allow much contact, nor did it sanction slide tackling). Unfortunately, as my body's fatigue grew, my fine motor skills waned. My precision, in other words, eventually left my body. Having already been warned by the ref to chill on both occasions, I was too aggressive. I lacked deftness, which translated into my opponents holding their ankles on the pitch. No, they weren't diving! Yes, I was clumsy and lacked skill. Yet, the opposition knew that if they dribbled on my side of the pitch, they were likely to get a knock! (minor injury)

One final thought on this topic. In European football, Liverpool, the team I follow, plays in the English Premier League, the top league in England. How I became a Liverpool fan is for another day. Suffice to say, one of my favorite traditions at Anfield, Liverpool's home pitch, is when the supporters (fans) serenade the players once they have taken the pitch singing the "You'll Never Walk Alone" (a show tune written by Rogers and Hammerstein in 1945!) In fact, the phrase "You'll Never Walk Alone" is the motto of the Liverpool Football Club worldwide. Its letters stir deep emotions amongst the supporters from every walk of life: YNWA.

Me, circa 1981 in Freeport, Tx. The second of my two-season football career (Note: Unfortunate team name verrrrry 1981)