Stupid American

Have you ever seen a sea of fifty thousand men? Well I sure have at the Monchengladbach German national soccer game that I gladly volunteered to attend on a fine Sunday evening. Here I think that I am going to a typical football stadium such as in America to watch a European football game, which would consist of both the female and male sexes but to my delight, I quickly discovered upon arrival that Erica and I were about the only two survivors of the female race present. Apparently soccer is only a macho man’s game in Germany. Therefore the women must be obedient housewives by staying at home ironing their husbands underwear while preparing a feast of sour crout and frikadelen for the family, then patiently sit by the fire knitting their beloved men’s socks waiting for them to come home at any hour and as drunk as they please. Yeah right, keep dreaming men! So being about the only two women at the game I thought, “Wow what a bummer, I just really detest being surrounded by a sea of men.”
Although I know Germany is absolutely insane about soccer and in my opinion is the king of soccer because they hold the most world championship titles, I did not realize that the games was watched in such grand stadiums and publicized as widely as is American football. It was so neat to learn that Monchengladbach had recruited the American national team goalie. Not to mention throughout the game he made some amazing saves leaving us Americans very proud. With a big mustard smeared bratwurst tucked into a crisp bread roll in the right hand, a German pils beer in the left, and crystal clear view in the front of the stadium of sexy German men running around kicking a ball on the grass with little cute white shorts on, I would have to say, I was on cloud nine. Not to shabby to have a German dad that is good friends with the Monchengladbach stadium’s market director and also who was once a big soccer player himself. It was unbelievable witnessing even thirty minutes before the game started, thousands of fans singing at the top of their lungs perfectly coordinated German Monchengladbach soccer chants. They did this weird criss cross thing with their arms while jumping up and down at the same time, creating a huge ricochet effect of noise throughout the entire stadium. And the flags that these people carried were about four times the size of one large dwarf. How they swung them around while singing, jumping up and down, and gulping down beer all at the same time beats the hell out of me. Now fortunately I am a complete retard and I thought the team dressed in green and orange (northern Germany) was the home team (Monchengladbach Western) thus persuaded Erica to cheer loudly for them with me. Now I thought I heard someone say to me in German “Stupid American go home that is the wrong team” but then again, my German is not up to par so he very well could have said, “Beautiful American let me buy you a yummy beer.” Either way, soon after Monchengladbach scored a fabulous cross cage goal and the fans went absolutely bezerk, did I have to admit to Erica what a complete failure I was and that we had been cheering for the wrong team. After she swiftly back handed me across the face because surely by now all the men probably hated us, I quickly regained my composure and switched over to the right side and began cheering loudly for the correct team. Final score, an even two two, and even though a boring tie, still quite an amazing experience to see such talent right before your eyes.
Watching them warm up with such stern and focused looks on their faces reminded both Erica and I off all the years of pre game warm up before water polo matches at UCI. Obviously, we did not play under such heated pressure as professional national German soccer players, but the rush of adrenaline that shoots throughout your body and waves of excitement are the same. It made me a little sad for a second thinking that even if I wanted to, I would never be able to physically handle the strenuous training of four to five hours a day like back in college polo after my accident. Mentally I am too far removed and my NCAA is far used up anyways to even consider getting back into it. But just the thought that I couldn’t is a little bit of a downer. However with that being said, on a brighter note, the next morning when I woke up I felt this sudden urge to go for a nice long run. Since I have arrived in Europe Erica and I have been going on long walks with a mixture of slow jogging for five minute stretches. This is a major improvement from November when I could not even get out of bed to even walk to the toilet without major assistance and excruciating pain. So this morning I wasn’t going to push it to the point where I have major pelvis pain as I have accidently done a few times already. Since it was oh I would say probably five degrees outside and drizzling shards of ice rain, I made sure to bundle up in a beanie, sweatshirt, gloves and so on so forth until I looked like a little brown eskimo. A few minutes later jogging alone through farm fields that stink of good old fresh horse and cow poo, listening to a mixture of Matisyahu and Damion Marley reggae, I finally for the first time felt almost zero pain in my pelvis or knee and therefore was able to continue jogging much further and at a quicker pace. To say the least, it was a great feeling knowing that with patience, determination, and an angel from up above always looking our for me, finally my body was finally coming around. And although it will probably never be as powerful as it was during my years of college polo, nor did my body ever possess the slightest chance of containing as much technical talent as the German professional soccer players, either way, it was all slowly coming back together in one strong piece, me.