Girljockery
Dec. 10th, 2009 09:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vostoklakeAuckland Harps play in the Cup Final of the Auckland Gaelic football tournament on Saturday. The second-choice goalie (yours truly) has been told that the first-choice goalie will be turning up this week, so there's little chance of getting a game. But I just went town to the park and kicked the ball, chased it and otherwise ran around for half an hour. Some might wonder why. But the point of playing football is not - however much my ego tries to persuade me it is - to get on the field and impress people. The game is its own point. I would rather watch my team win than participate in my team getting beaten. My team, whether coach decides I should be on the field or not.
Plus, after all this exercise, I will be dynamite when soccer starts again. 15 kilos lighter and a truckload fitter than the end of last season, to say nothing of having spent the summer practicing kicking from the hands on a long, long field.
It happened that tonight a local touch rugby team were having a social of some sort at the ground. On my way home after training, some friendly Polynesian men associated with this team cheerfully asked me if I "needed someone to play with". I thankfully declined. When did I become attractive to men? Granted, they were at something of a distance, but still...
Plus, after all this exercise, I will be dynamite when soccer starts again. 15 kilos lighter and a truckload fitter than the end of last season, to say nothing of having spent the summer practicing kicking from the hands on a long, long field.
It happened that tonight a local touch rugby team were having a social of some sort at the ground. On my way home after training, some friendly Polynesian men associated with this team cheerfully asked me if I "needed someone to play with". I thankfully declined. When did I become attractive to men? Granted, they were at something of a distance, but still...
