Last Thursday I played in my first soccer game. I didn't really mean to. The thing is, for the ward teams there has to be at least three girls playing, otherwise you forfeit. So Austin and I are rushing from campus, he's changing in the car, and we pull up and this big group gathered around the ref all turn and stare at me. Then Gaelin, our next-door neighbor, runs up to my window and starts pleading with me to play. ("You don't even have to run, you can just stand there on the field...I'll cook you a t-bone steak...etc.) Anyway, I agree, because otherwise everyone in the ward will know me as "the-girl-who-caused-us-to-forfeit-our-game" right?
I've only played with my family before (homeschooled, remember?) but I was having fun running around until this girl who had gotten a yellow card earlier kicked a soccer ball at me at close range. The upshot of which is, I had forgotten to take my ring off, so the ball crunched my fingers onto my ring, gouging a square gash down the inside of my pinky and bruising the side of my hand, then ricocheted off the left side of my face, leaving a red streak up the side of it for the next 24 hours. I was really embarrassed because I started crying just as an instant reaction to the pain when the ball hit my face, and the girl started apologizing profusely and the ref came over and asked me if I wanted to go out, and I'm just trying to wave them away and tell them I'm fine as I'm crying and holding my face. Because come on, it's sports--no pain no gain! As this girl in a session today said, pain in sports is like a toy in your Happy Meal--you just expect it.