I dribbled the ball to the right… My footwork wasn’t all that great, but I had got past a few defensemen. the wingers were all tied up to the left. Five more feet and I had an open shot toward the goal. Coach Siler is screaming for me to pass the ball – I’m not that great a player but I’m open and I’ll take my shot. The ball was sluggish; probably needed more air. With a little burst of speed, I brought my foot back. The goalkeeper wasn’t there, now swiftly…
“Why did you kick me?” Judi nearly shouts.
I come to my senses. “Hm?” I check the time. 12:30 AM, January 31, 2011. I’m tangled in the sheets of the bed, lying on my side, the roar of a now-half remembered angry coach still ringing in my ears.
“You kicked me! In the boobs!?”
“I did? sorry. I didn’t mean to. Really. Sorry.”
“You were mumbling in your sleep. It woke me up. You didn’t have to kick me.”
“If it helps at all, I was dreaming about soccer.”
Judi snorts and laughs aloud. “They may look like soccer balls but they aren’t.”
“Well, I am sorry.” I reach hesitantly and touch her leg.
I try to make sure both my legs are covered by blankets and not hanging all free and willy-nilly. Soon all is forgotten and I drift back to sleep. Coach Siler was right. I should have passed it to someone.
If Judi has her way, she may never let me play with my balls–or hers–again. Shot blocked.