after three days of sight seeing, walking up and down as many streets that i can, and this view from my hotel window... i have officially began my playing experience. to say an "experience," is to undermine the true meaning of the word. in the states, i have been spoiled with grass fields and a playing career that minimizes dirt and gravel pitches. at wilmington, and even high school to dig deeper into the memory banks, the fields were plush midwestern grounds fit for a high quality level of football. even in europe, the bad fields that i played on seemed like cathedrals compared to the hard rock infested areas that are called soccer fields here. i am not trying to sound like a pre-madonna, but lets be honest, if you were a goalkeeper (portero in spanish) would you really want to go diving around only to hit the ground in a hard thump with blood slowly dripping from the freshly broken flesh of your hips? i did not think so... day one was not quite the exaggeration that i just described but it was close. the surfaces looked more like a mole had made a network of neighborhoods in the 18 and the sun had dried it into place leave nothing more than a series of unpredictable mounds. any routine ball hit one the ground had the potential to take a hateful bound off the front of your face. it was however manageable and i was able to find success in comparison to the other gks.
day two proved to be football hell for a gk. to be honest, this may have been God´s way of punishing any arrogance in my life that comes from the thick-headed nature that comes with the keepers psyche. it was enough to make me go to church and pray to the saint of fertilization for plushness to all the world. my first attempt to the ground, though successful, proved to be the nothing more than a one way ticket to the hip transplant list. i already have one friend with a transplant and after eleven months on crutches and a 50cent style limp, i am not looking to join anytime soon.
it is no wonder why some of the best keepers in the world are from the united states, not only because we tend to be bigger athletes than other parts of the world, but also because we have a built in padded device called grass and soil made soft by a steady diet of cloud skies and rain.
i know i am spending a lot of time talking down about the surface and in all honesty, i am very thankful that i have played on these surfaces because it give me a greater appreciation for the facilities that i have been blessed with. and if i hear one more kid that i coach saying that they are afraid to dive, i am going to grab them by the back of the next much like a bitch does her pup, find the deepest, darkest, most unpleasant, jagged rock infested hole, and throw them down just so they have an idea of what these kids are forced to play on...i think that might get them to shut up.
on the greener side, day three was much more suited for the position that i play. we made our way to the dominican fiesta hotel and deportes (sports) complex where we trained on a turf field. normally turf is turf to me, and this was not even good turf, more like 6X10 square yard pieces of turf fit together over a large area to form a field, but by this time it felt like diving in clouds. i was finally able to play without possessing the same fear that one has when they watch a decrepit old man walk down the stairs with no hand rails. it was the first true time that i was able to be a keeper, make saves, and feel that i was playing a brand of football that i was used to. granted, i did not play my 100% best and i am sure there are one or two balls i let through that i should have saved, but being the keeper that i am i have already forgotten them by now. by the end of the session i was able to walk away with a well earned sweat that perspired from a keeper that was truly happy, hips and all, from the way that he had played.
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