Soccer

It's a sport I play every Sunday, but a word I utter sparingly. Playing with mostly Koreans and proper gentlemen from the UK, soccer is a useless word. To me, it almost represents a lack of knowledge for the game. A game for which my knowledge is already very small. Sometimes the treacherous word slips from my tongue amidst European company, and a deep feeling of shame washes over me. I quickly look to the ground, hoping no one heard.

Of course, when I am in the company of a fellow Me-gook (American) player, it's soccer, soccer, soccer all day, all night. Even when we're talking about teaching or the weather.

"Yeah, it has been cold. Why aren't th--SOCCER! Why aren't there pl--SOCCER! plows in this SOCCER!! SOCCER!! SOCCERRR!!

Sometimes football is shortened up to footy. Who knows why? Not like you use your feet. Most countries around the world use some variation of football. Except Iceland, which uses Knattspyma. Icelanders also use dung to heat their homes.

So let's call it chukgu (Korean). It's a sport I've played since I was 6 or 7 years old. Honestly, it was mostly a filler sport between summer baseball and winter basketball. I don't know if I really ever enjoyed playing it in the states. Too much running. No timeouts.

Also, I could never score. Upon entering the box, I would usually panic, kick the ball straight into a defender and then throw my hands in front of my face as he booted it back down the field. True mincer.

In my 3 year varsity career, I think I tallied 6 goals? The first year I was a full-time ball boy and only played when the other team was winning by 7 or we were playing the American School for the Deaf. But I celebrated my ball boy status. Two other freshman and I actually coined our group BBOA. Ball Boys of America.

We would make full out dives for stray balls and slide into pricker bushes in search of lost ones. Sure, our efforts went unnoticed, but we knew how many balls we had stopped from killing Timmy's grandmother or upending a nest of newborn baby birds.

Don't really remember much in my 2nd year, but definitely began to play more. I also became the king of penalty kicks. We would have PK tournaments at the end of each practice and I did surprisingly well one day. Using a pair of moccasins from the lost and found (I was known to forget my cleats and athletic clothes every so often and since the 6th grade, was a happy and frequent lost and found customer) I beat every single person on the team. Right corner was my spot. Moccasin Monagan became my name. Just kidding.

But this day carried my PK legacy into senior year and I became the go to penalty kicker. Four of my six goals over my 3 year career were scored in this fashion. I probably would've had more PK's but had a Rick Ankiel-like mental breakdown midway through my final season and couldn't even lift the ball off the ground. Kept seeing little green goblins dancing around the goal line.

Now I'm in Korea and am really enjoying football. I play almost every Sunday. Sometimes Saturdays. I don't know why I suddenly enjoy it. I think because it keeps me in shape and I enjoy hearing the Korean players scream "Nice-Uh!" when somebody does something well.

Play a mix of 11 a side and 5 a side. I think I enjoy the 5 a side more because of the smaller pitch (less running) and ample touches.

Last week, myself, Lewis (Yorkshire ballin' till he be fallin'), Steven (Energizer Tiger) and Zack (Mayor of Chuncheon) walked on to a 5 a side pitch of high-school aged kids and dominated for a span of 4 games. It's like in America, where it's 5 on 5 pick-up basketball. You lose, you're out.

Lewis scored his usual 8 goals and I had 6. We were dominant up front. Like Jordan and Pippen in the late 90s. Steven was the hardworking defender (Luc Longley). Zack was the everywhere man, flying all over the pitch (Dennis Rodman). We also picked up a Korean keeper, who I believe had a 3rd arm.

The crowds of Korean high schoolers oohhh and ahhhhed every time we rocketed a shot towards the goal. They shook the cage that surrounded the field every time there was a hard foul. It was epic. In 2 short hours, we became Chuncheon legends.

When we left, a chorus line of about 20 Korean men gave us a hefty bow. Lower than Obama's bow to the Japanese president. Lower than a baby pygmy bow.

We hope to go back to this field someday.

When we do, a grand entrance will definitely be in order. Maybe something like this. Just to remind them who is boss: