I've forced myself to watch ALOT of soccer the past five weeks, I've tried to embrace the World Cup but just could not do it. It's simple, there is nothing to watch from my point of view, and I have watched endless hours of it and still find it for no better word to describe, BORING. With that said, I once played the game, many, many moons ago. While primarily concerned with baseball at this age, myself and a ruthless band of renegades formed an intramural soccer team while at Florida State University in I believe 1980. We called ourselves the Cone Kickers and we had a couple of guys that actually knew how to play, we also had guys who had never played before that wore steel toed work boots to play in and their underwear on the OUTSIDE of their pants. We had a seven color minimum for some reason, which meant your uniform had to have at least seven colors on it each week. I suppose this was to celebrate the true international flavor of the sport as we tried to represent all of the flag colors, or maybe we were tripping on mushrooms and thought it would look cool when we ran. Anyway, we won every game and made it to the championship game to play for the coveted Champions T-shirts which were sure to get us laid if we wore them on campus. We were matched against the Foreign excahnge students who spoke broken English at best. They had not been scored on once the entire season, and that is the truth. Just minutes into that epic battle, Alan Hoffmeister kicked the ball from midfield towards our opponents goal. The ball skidded off the bottom of the crossbar and over the goalies stretched out fingers and we scored. It was perhaps the greatest goal ever scored in unrecorded World Cup play. We dog piled Alan at midfield. As I can best recall, the ball rarely touched the ground the remainder of the game and we lost 11-1, but we left champions, we scored on those bastards. I never attempted to head the ball in those days because there was no way of telling where the fucking ball would go off my afro, and that is the truth.
The Cone Kickers, 1980
I played (loosely) defense, my job to kick the crap out off the ball away from my goal and run over people.
And of course running over people means getting knocked on your ass every now and again. Here I am literally knocked out, for a while.
And this was the collision that caused my first or second concussion, can't remember which.
Filed under WTF 
I think I got red carded for trying to head the ball with my fro one time.
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