(no subject)
Sep. 27th, 2007 07:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
khiemtranThere's one feeling I miss most about not playing soccer anymore.
It's not, as you might expect, the thrill of scoring a goal or winning a game. I certainly enjoyed it when it happened, and I can remember many goals and their build-up in exacting detail, but the scoring and the winning in themselves aren't something I miss. Neither is it the feeling of being "on", great as it is, when your legs just want to keep running and the ball always finds your feet and it seems like you're always just a bit faster than you thought you were.
Nor is it the feeling you get after the game. The tired, achey, happy feeling, when your body's worn out but the adrenalin's still pumping and you feel both sore and contented at the same. Or the post-game chats on a darkened oval, with my office mates or the Thai students who would use our pickup team as warm-up practice.
What I miss most is the feeling you get when you've got the ball and you make a 'cut'.
I should explain here. A 'cut' is probably the second most basic move you can execute after the 'pass'. Basically, you point the ball in a direction that forces your opponent to move, and then before they can finish doing so, you chop your foot down and make it go the other way. And that's pretty much all it is. The most amazing thing is that it works. You push the ball towards the opponent's left then hook your foot around and skip past them on their right. Caught off balance, even the most determined opponents suddenly become powerless to move just the few inches they need to stop you. What's also amazing is how far out you may need to be to execute it properly, and how slowly things can seem to unfold. Surely, this is too obvious, you think. Instinctively, it feels all wrong. Surely, he can see this coming. Surely, he'll just stick out his foot to stop me. Instead you need to see the world as your opponent sees it. Suddenly what you're doing isn't obvious or predictable at all. As slow and ungainly as you might think you are, from the outside you're suddenly dangerous and fast. Everything seems to be going in slow motion because you're in the know and no-one else is [1].
That's the feeling that I miss most of all. The time-slowing moment when you've just kicked the ball the other way. Too far out, surely, too blatantly. And then, against all expectation it works. You prod the ball forward and suddenly everyone else seems to be moving in treacle. A little tiny bit of everyday magic.
Then, of course, reality catches up with you, and the chances are the next time you try it, you end up being tackled and dispossessed by some lightning fast teenager who then runs forty metres and scores a goal. But, at least for a tiny moment, the magic was there.
[1] It's even better when you can watch very good players doing this and they seem to simply jog past younger, faster defenders who topple over helplessly as they pass. I was never even remotely that competent.
It's not, as you might expect, the thrill of scoring a goal or winning a game. I certainly enjoyed it when it happened, and I can remember many goals and their build-up in exacting detail, but the scoring and the winning in themselves aren't something I miss. Neither is it the feeling of being "on", great as it is, when your legs just want to keep running and the ball always finds your feet and it seems like you're always just a bit faster than you thought you were.
Nor is it the feeling you get after the game. The tired, achey, happy feeling, when your body's worn out but the adrenalin's still pumping and you feel both sore and contented at the same. Or the post-game chats on a darkened oval, with my office mates or the Thai students who would use our pickup team as warm-up practice.
What I miss most is the feeling you get when you've got the ball and you make a 'cut'.
I should explain here. A 'cut' is probably the second most basic move you can execute after the 'pass'. Basically, you point the ball in a direction that forces your opponent to move, and then before they can finish doing so, you chop your foot down and make it go the other way. And that's pretty much all it is. The most amazing thing is that it works. You push the ball towards the opponent's left then hook your foot around and skip past them on their right. Caught off balance, even the most determined opponents suddenly become powerless to move just the few inches they need to stop you. What's also amazing is how far out you may need to be to execute it properly, and how slowly things can seem to unfold. Surely, this is too obvious, you think. Instinctively, it feels all wrong. Surely, he can see this coming. Surely, he'll just stick out his foot to stop me. Instead you need to see the world as your opponent sees it. Suddenly what you're doing isn't obvious or predictable at all. As slow and ungainly as you might think you are, from the outside you're suddenly dangerous and fast. Everything seems to be going in slow motion because you're in the know and no-one else is [1].
That's the feeling that I miss most of all. The time-slowing moment when you've just kicked the ball the other way. Too far out, surely, too blatantly. And then, against all expectation it works. You prod the ball forward and suddenly everyone else seems to be moving in treacle. A little tiny bit of everyday magic.
Then, of course, reality catches up with you, and the chances are the next time you try it, you end up being tackled and dispossessed by some lightning fast teenager who then runs forty metres and scores a goal. But, at least for a tiny moment, the magic was there.
[1] It's even better when you can watch very good players doing this and they seem to simply jog past younger, faster defenders who topple over helplessly as they pass. I was never even remotely that competent.
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no subject
Date: 2007-09-28 12:42 am (UTC)The equivalent for me is that moment when you see "the picture" and put the ball just where it needs to be for "the picture" in your head to happen on the field. I could do it regularly from dead ball situations, but not very often from open play. Least often "the picture" involved the ball entering the goal. Though I can still clearly remember two of the three times I managed to score direct from a corner (the other was a fluke in a strong wind).
What I miss still more is tennis. To the extent that I can't even watch it on TV. Again the feeling I grieve for is seeing "the picture" and making it happen. Unfortunately the state of my back means I can't serve without risking a slipped disc every time. I don't miss tennis THAT much.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-28 10:08 am (UTC)I think I understand about "the picture", although in my case I never had a clear image so much as a vague "somewhere in this area would be good".
I remember once playing table tennis at uni (I was, incidentally, officially the single worst player in the entire city - the weakest player on the bottom team in D grade), when a Chinese player gave us some coaching tips. He got us to practice aiming at a small coin near the corner of the table and it was slightly magical how easy it was after we'd been trying for a while. You just think about the coin and how much you want to hit it and your brain just does the rest.
no subject
Date: 2007-09-30 04:24 pm (UTC)It's another great feeling.