Elise has the capacity to annoy.
That’s stellar. She’s best at it when she’s in goalkeeper gloves and a ponytail. It’s a blast to watch. She’s a self-proclaimed midfielder stuck in goalkeeper gear. You wouldn’t guess it when she slides out at girls’ feet and sweeps away their harmful intents.
One day she kept one of the conference’s best teams scoreless with those antics.
In a tight game, little details get magnified. I’ve told the girls that every time you swipe away a scoring opportunity, you tilt the game ever so slightly. Soon enough, you begin to capture bits of their soul. It’s dramatic, for sure. Sports make for compelling theater.
Anyway, back to Elise’s annoyance of the high-scoring team.
She slid out on a girl’s feet once and came up cradling the ball. The spurned would-be scorer stomped toward Elise on the ground. I feared something dastardly lurking. “F*** you!” she screamed at my girl, who popped up with a smile on her face.
Elise held up a loose hand to her adversary, as if she held something. The girl shook her head and retreated upfield.
“I heard that girl drop the F bomb on you!” I said afterward.
“Right?” Elise said with a smile. Her team lost the game. However, a scoreless match at halftime resulted in their side yelled at with vitriol during the break.
“What did you say to her when you got up?” I asked.
“Remember what you said about stealing a little bit of their soul?” she said. “I told her, ‘Your souls. I’ve got your souls, b*tches!’”
What? It makes a dad proud.
1. What does the rest of the world call our football?
The world, in its centigrade and metric-measuring ways, calls our football “American football.” Americans call it Canadian bacon and White Russians. And would you just call them Jumping Beans in Guadalajara? Can Canadian bacon just be bacon in Ottawa?
Do Colombians just call it coffee?
We’re the ones who wear armor. Americans play football with our feet for extra points, kickoffs, punts and field goals only. Hell, kickers hardly even wear pads.
In our parallel universe, Americans came up with a name for football. We differentiated it from what the rest of the world played. A version of football, Rugby Football, and was later shortened to Rugger. A pint or two later, a random wanker said “soccer,” and, Bob’s your uncle.
The rest of the world hates us for calling soccer soccer. Hell with it.
2. Why does the Hulk’s shirt tear up, but his pants don’t?
Probably Elise took a little of his soul, too.
Bruce Banner’s transformation from scientist to raging green menace costs countless Van Heusens. He goes through them the way the New York Jets rifle through mediocre quarterbacks. Or the Jacksonville Jaguars rip through unused game tickets.
The Incredible Hulk doesn’t ever lose his trousers. It’s written in the Comics Code. The Code specifies that comic book characters and their activities remain child-friendly. An angry thrashing Hulk pulverizing all in sight? Neat. He’s way cooler than Marshawn Lynch, for instance.
Wonder Woman’s outfit qualifies as acceptable, though.
What if tirades turned me green and grumpy and ruined my oxfords,? I’d wear stretchable trousers in the name of modesty. I’m not prone to tirades that turn me green and grumpy, though. I’d hold onto the stretchable trousers, for buffets.
I ruin enough oxfords there, anyway.
3. Can you say ‘shit’ on your blog?
Search the term shit in my blog. It yields eight results! Once, I used sh*t in a headline (and it still turned up in the search.) A Google search for coach daddy shit reveals I rank in the top two spots for that search term! Excellent, right? Hope Solo ass and man unzip also rank in my search terms.
There should be a Blogging Code, too, to prevent that shit.
4. Does it smell bad in the locker room?
I’ve never gagged in there.
Images scorch themselves into my retinas. Linemen ought never to bend over on their way to the shower.) For a room of 53 sweaty men, it’s not stinky. Not even as stinky as the corner of the house where your soccer bags hang.
The University of Oregon’s swanky football locker room features stink-resistant lockers. They funnel away the funk from sweaty Ducks. Presumably it gets piped all the way to the University of nebraska.
5. Can twins have twins?
You’re not referring to Twins, as in Minnesota Twins outfielders Oswaldo Arcia or Byron Buxton, right? They could have twins. They could have Twins together. That stat isn’t on the back of their baseball cards. (Could you imagine if it was, though?)
Babycenter.com says twins have a greater likelihood of having twins. If you’re older, you’re likely to have fraternal twins or even triplets or quads. A twin in the twilight of her child-bearing days should probably double up on onesies and those little turkey baster booger yankers.
Like peanut allergies and NFL players with dreds, twin-having has become a trend. That site said twin births have risen 76% in the past 30 years. Fertility drugs also play a role.
By the time you have kids, maybe twins will be the norm. Maybe the University of Oregon’s stink-lifting technology will come standard on all diaper genies.
Wouldn’t that be some shit?