I retired from team sports when I turned thirty which was the same year that my brother Andrew turned forty. He had promised his wife he’d quit playing football at forty, and I was mainly playing to have an excuse to hang out with him, so we both hung up our cleats at the same time. I’m glad I didn’t do another tens years of waking up early on Sundays and running full speed into other grown men, because the aches and pains from my twenties are bad enough.

But now I’m seriously considering joining an adult league soccer team. I’m much older now and my body refuses to take a lot of directives from my brain. I can’t jump anymore, but strangely I don’t think I’ve lost all that much speed. I just wonder if I can avoid muscle injuries. I haven’t played competitive soccer since I was 15, although I did lead my league in goals that year, so it’s not like I was never good at the sport. Still, a thirty-one year lay off is pretty huge.

I don’t know, I suspect I’m a little crazy, but CabinGirl is encouraging me to do it, so I guess I’ll put the cleats on one more time and see what’s left in the tank.

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