The Jolley Robbins

This is our coed indoor soccer team. The name, Jolley Robbins, means exactly what it says. This team has Jolleys and it has Robbins. Three of Josh's sisters play on it, with two of their husbands, and then a couple of brother-in-law's brothers. It was really fun, only I would leave each and every game completely humiliated by my behavior.

See, I've become that girl. The girl who loses her temper and is screaming at guys twice her size. I have even punched a guy in the back... after the game, when we were shaking hands. I've told many a refs that they are nightmares. I've been honestly ready and willing to get in multiple fights with any number of male opponents. I have no filter and absolutely no control over what I say and who I say it to.

So why should last night be any different? Well, it wasn't. I always start a game making promises to myself that I'm going to remain human and not fly off the handle. No such luck. I didn't just 'fly off the handle.' I ran at a full sprint away from it, never to return.

Idiot defender guy: "Oh give me a break. Tell that girl to relax" (referring to my sister-in-law, Karen)

Idiot Goal Keeper: "Seriously. She's out of control!"

Me: "Why don't you both just shut your freaking mouths?"

Idiot defender guy: "Oooohhhh..."

Booty Shorts (girl wearing exceptionally small shorts): "Okay, everyone, it's just a game. Relax."

Me: "Save it Booty Shorts"

Idiot Goal Keeper: "What did she call you?"

Booty Shorts: "Booty shorts"

After the game was over and we're shaking hands....

Booty shorts: "Next time don't comment on what people are wearing"

Me: "Next time, wear clothes that fit you."

And this girl was just some random peacemaking type, who probably hadn't played a lot of soccer and honestly didn't have a pair of soccer shorts, so she opted for the next best thing -shorts that look like underwear. In her defense, she did have pretty amazing legs. Not the point. The point is I told a ref to go back to Mexico, I screamed a number of times at people to shut up, and ultimately, I was hoping beyond hoping that someone would just get in my face so I would have an excuse to punch him or her in the face. The rage that engulfs me during games terrifies me later.

Josh and I were discussing it after the game on our way home. I expressed that I hated the type of player I had become. I never used to lose it like that. I never used to (there may have been a time or two) argue with refs, get in fights with players, or completely forgo any self-respect I might have had and act like a complete lunatic. Josh summed it up perfectly.

"When you used to play to a certain ability, and you never had to say anything because you just let your play and skills speak for you, and you don't necessarily play at that same level you once were capable of, you improvise."

I guess that's what I'm doing. I'm improvising for all those missed passes, crappy shots, and failed one-on-ones. Sad. I wish I could still just be decent instead of having to fight every single person on the field. I don't think my mother-in-law is too impressed.