I was glad when I finally got a goal this morning. Up to that point, I was feeling snakebit. I’d blasted a long shot just over the crossbar. I’d had a one-timer from in close ruined by an amazing play by the goaltender. I’d snuck a left-footed wormburner through their entire defense only to see it go wide by less than the width of a soccer ball. I’d taken a touch that I shouldn’t have and ruined an easy chance to score.
When the goal finally came, it was pretty routine. A simple give-and-go where I sent it out wide, made a short run, and had all the time I needed to slot the return pass past the helpless goalie.
The wait was made easier because my passing was the best it’s been since I went back on the pitch after a twenty-five year hiatus. I had three assists in the first half. I think the final score was 5-3, but all I know for sure is that we won.
And now I need an ice bath.
