Saturday proved me right (to what I said before) that soccer games are much more fun than practice.
           For some reason, we couldn't get our act together enough to get to my soccer game on time. I showed up and the first thing Profe asks is "why are you so late." "I don't know," I reply with a small sigh. He tells me to wait in the dug-out with Fernando (the smiley) and just as I am about to start warming up, he puts me on the field. I am put in as mid-fielder. Small note: When I am put in, the score is 1-0 our advantage.
          I don't know how the score got to this but then it is 4-3 we are down. After that last goal that broke our tie, we depressingly walked back to our starting positions and Pepe (the hedgehog kid) says to me "4-3, come on Yurmina." I had a chance at a goal but I panicked at the prospect of it being up to me and I passed it off. That was about the nicest thing he said to me ever. I believe he scored the last goal before half time tying us 4-4.
         We walked back to Profe after drinking our water and he gave us a pep talk. He said that he really dislikes it when people don't have fun playing. He said that we need to try harder and that when the other coach makes fun of our team after we score (I didn't notice this) we should channel our anger into stealing the ball instead of illegally pushing the players. He told Fernando (the offender) that he can't just stand by and watch; he said that since he wasn't even playing in his age group that if he doesn't do it in these games, it will be harder for him when he goes to his normal group (I am guessing that his normal group is the older team). Profe also told some defenders to not just watch and try and steal it and then he also told me that if I am wide open, take a shot.
          Then, he put me as delantero (forward) my biggest fear. I got the ball as I played left offend and dribbled up the field. I got to the other side of the field and slid out of control (on the account of the mud and water) and could only poke it weakly. The whole left side of me was wet and I was disappointed with my efforts but I had to keep playing. I got another chance where I was right there in the end zone (I just had to internally say, screw my fear) and I got really low and pegged it pretty hard. The problem was that at the same time, the kid trying to guard me slammed his arm into my chest and I fell over. I didn't feel so lame though because once I kicked it, it slammed into the goalie's chest and had someone on my team been there, maybe we could have gotten a goal.
            Soon after, Profe pulled me out and he laughed and said "did you get tired?" I nodded and he gave my head a hug and said, "we are getting better." That made me feel good because he is not one of those people who gives compliments if it is not earned. He put me in later as left offense for Ismael. We won by 7-5 and I finished the game pretty satisfied with how I and my team had played.
         Later at home, we marveled at how all of my teammates (save Fernando the smiley) that are not emotionally attached. I have hardly seen any of them smile and they are generally serious (again, this does not include Fernando the smiley).

Mud on my leg that got down my shin guard when I slipped.