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Editor’s Note: Mark St. Amand was a typical South Louisiana dad: He had watched, and even coached, his children playing soccer, but the only thing he used his feet for was to flick the occasional ice cube under the fridge. Then, at age 44, the graphic designer joined a soccer team, a Baton Rouge Soccer Association over-40 co-ed group called the Bravehearts. His post-game e-mails quickly became required reading for family, friends and strangers. After some arm-twisting, we convinced St. Amand to let us publish excerpts from his informal blog.

Game 1

Well, I played my first “old man” soccer game yesterday. My butt is tired and sore, not to mention the rest of my body. We played against a bunch of old Mexican dudes. NEVER trust an old Mexican dude with a soccer ball. We lost 4-1. Once one of those dudes got a pass, it was theirs until they passed it again. Several times they went right between my legs. They have a term for that, I don’t recall what it is, so let’s just call it a “nutter”. Don’t get me wrong now, there isn’t anything faster than a pissed off Coon Ass, and I did wheel around most of the time and made a play from the back side. That gets old very fast, however.

Have you ever seen the commercial for Power-Aid where the triathlon runner gets close to the finish line and his legs give out and he craps his pants? That was me after the game.

Crap in Shorts Amand

Game 2

We got our butts whooped again, 7-2. You can tell our captain is not used to getting beat so badly. He’s still nice to us but he’s biting his lip.

Observation: Remember when we were young and we wanted to play some

Ball? Football, baseball, basketball, whatever? We would pick up the ball, put on our shoes, sometimes tie our shoes, then go out and play. We’d come in after running three hours, get a glass of lukewarm water, then watch Gilligan’s Island reruns, totally unaffected? That doesn't cut it any more.

The over-40 game prep is a little more involved. You’ve got to start drinking a lot of water several hour before the game. Exactly one hour before the game take one Ibuprofin and eat a Power Bar. Get dressed. Pack for the game: One bottle of water, one bottle of Gatorade, contact lenses case and solution, spare glasses and strap, soccer ball, cell phone with 911 preprogrammed, and a lot of other stuff.

Health Alert: Keep Icy Hot off of your testicles. After the game the front and groin areas of my upper legs were really sore. So I thought I'll put me some Icy Hot on that. Well I got a little too close to the groinage area. It wasn't too bad at first. Unfortunately I didn't read the label carefully—it said “icy hot.” You see, the Icy comes first, then the Hot. As the Hot kicked in I could be observed in some discomfort but still in the sitting position. Several minutes later I could be observed running for my life. The running created just enough breeze down there to make it bearable. I dared not stop to try to wash it off, the pain would have been far too great.

Still running, Mark

Game 3

Finally played another soccer game (we were postponed by Rita and a tournament the last two weeks.) And yes, we lost again, 5-0. I think there is a trend here.

Game highlight: I took one hard goal shot and hit a guy square in the groinage area. Unfortunately, it was John, the guy who I coach Bernie's soccer team with. I helped him get up and for a moment I think his eyes rolled back into his head. He plays on a team called Red September. I think he may want to change it to Redsack in October. I’m gonna go shopping for a cup this week.

Coaches Corner: When you are running after the ball and someone yells “Time!” to you, do not stop running. You see, it does not mean time out. It means you have plenty of time to get the ball with no defenders near. That is unless you think someone actually called time out and stop running like someone, who will remain unnamed, on our team did. Then, you will hear your team yell “RUN!” in unison with a slightly agitated tone to their voice.

Aches & Pains: I finally have gotten to the point where the games are not killing me physically. The rest of the week, however, is killer. I’m afraid to take too much Ibuprofin for fear it becomes less effective when I need it. Therefore I hobble around all week just so I can play soccer for 1.5 hours on Sunday.

Our team was having a pain and remedy conversation after the latest defeat when I enquired if anyone else was having pain between the point of the hips and groinage area like I was. First they tried to convince me that the pain was in the front of my legs, and then in my stomach. Then our team captain suggested that I am running improperly. I told him that I've been running the same way since I was three years old and never had pain there before. He said that one runs differently in soccer and that he would keep a close watch on me during the next game. About this time, I realized that this was a group of quacks (although none are actually doctors) when Robin, one of the ladies on my team, suggested that it may be my ovaries. She suggested I get them checked and may even have them removed. Finally, a voice of sense. I'm checking with my doctor soon.

Painfully yours, Old Soccer Dude

Match 4

(You see? They are called matches, not games. I’m learning)

The humiliation of the week award goes to me!

O.K., this is what happened. I was doing my usually shaky, but spirited, job on defense, when somehow I found myself chasing the ball toward my own goal, the ball bouncing directly toward it. That’s not too unusual. But I also had three opponents chasing me down, with no help within miles. (I think our other defenders and goalie decided to take a beer break without telling me.)

What did I do? My first reaction was to grab the ball with my hands. With hands about 2 inches from the ball, I realized I wasn’t playing goalie. That’s when my knees buckled. I fell upon the ball like the first graders on Zack’s team do when they miss kick it.

So here I am on top of the ball with three guys ready to kick the s--- out of me so they can score. Most intelligent people at this point would’ve said “My bad,” got up, dusted themselves off, and laughed. But, I’ve already established that I do not fit that

mold. Somehow I noticed the goal post about three feet away, so I rolled my body off the ball, creating a HUMAN SHEILD between myself and the opponents, and began rolling toward the goal post to get the ball out of bounds. About a foot away from the out line I lost the ball and the other team scored anyway.

I began to search for a hiding place, but the only thing that I could find was that danged goal post that let me down earlier. As I dusted off, I could see in the eyes of all who witnessed it the level of shock and embarrassment that I single-handedly created with my play. I hope no one had a video camera.

Your favorite tumbleweed, Mark

Match 5

I made my first goal of the season and of my life. It wasn’t really anything to brag about, but I will anyway. It went in, and I slid to about a foot in front of the net. So I guess my shot was from 1 foot away. Woohoo!

Other game tidbits:

* We lost again, 3-1. Basically the same story, we spent a lot of time on defense so my legs are really sore today.

* Latest diagnosis for the source of my front leg pain from Jim. (Now remember, Jim originally thought it was my running style.) Now he’s convinced that it’s my kicking style. It stems from the fact that I kick too much with a straight leg—not enough knee action. Never mind the fact that I may kick the ball really hard about 5 times a match.

* Groinage area update. Well, our other fullback, Doug, caught one in the groinage area Sunday. I figure my odds are getting worse each match. That was only Doug’s second match, and I’ve already played five. I’m thinking about getting a teammate to line up about 10 feet away and take a few shots at me just so I can get it over with. Maybe not.

* Total score. The score was 3-1 as I mentioned earlier, but while drinking post-game beers we “recalculated” the score. Jim had two bloody knees which we added to the score. This made it a 3-3 tie. But wait a minute ... I had one bloody knee, which we also added to the score, giving us a 4-3 victory. We reported this to the other team, but they did not agree. What poor sportsman they were.

* Did I mention that I scored a goal?

As they say in South America,

Goooooooaallll, blah blah, some Spanish stuff, blah blah,

Mark

Match 6

Greetings. We came so close to victory that I could smell it ... well, maybe that

was the smell from the beer bottles opening a little early on the sidelines. The Bravehearts played bravely in their first regulation time TIE of the season. What’s all this mumbo jumbo about regulation time, you ask? Well, the truth of the matter is that both teams agreed to play a 10-minute overtime, in which the other team promptly scored two goals. DANG!

The difficult part is that we had a lead or tie for the whole match. We dominated the first half, and kept the ball on the other side most of the time. Our best player, Jim, had to leave at half-time, however, and that’s when it became a match.

I moved to goalie for the second half. I don’t quite remember any details but I know that they gave me a really ostentatious, bright colored goalie shirt to wear. I requested something more in muted tones that would blend in with the grass in case I messed up I could lie down and hide, but evidently the custom is to have the goalie stand out. This way they can be scoffed and ridiculed if they mess up. With this in mind, I set

my jaw and decided I would not let a shot through for the half.

Unfortunately, we switched to a new defense, I think it’s called the sieve. I remember shot after shot coming at me along with a lot of diving, crawling and getting kicked. The rest is a blur. Somehow I managed to let in only two shots. When time ran out the match was tied 3-3.

Then everyone said let’s play some more. I thought, ‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! ‘ I did not want to say this out loud for everyone would think I'm a sissy. We can’t have that, although it may be true. Thankfully, someone else played goalie in the overtime, which allowed me to learn the new sieve defense. I think I picked it up pretty quick because the other team scored two goals in eight 8 minutes. So much for our tie. Anyway, if I want a tie I can wear one to church, I will not be satisfied until we have a victory. Even if it’s a forfeit. heh, eh.

Well, Jim won the ‘Source of Mark’s Pain’ lottery. Craig (my brother) also nailed it. Soft-tissue damage in my ligaments where they connect to my hip point area. This is good news. Although painful, I am still allowed to play and it will heal with time. Also a lot of ice, heat (be careful with that Icy-Hot) was recommended.

Correction: In the first “Old Man Soccer” report I said that we played a bunch of old Mexican dudes. Well, they were actually Iranian. Oops! The rest was true, however.

Patches: I got these patch thingies at the drug store. They are kind of like nicotine patches, but are supposed to relieve pain. The instructions said to apply on the skin surface in the area where there is pain. I thought “now that is silly, if I do that I will look like a rag doll or “the mummy”. Instead, I applied where the pain was unbearable. It worked pretty good! I did not have the tingling in my legs that I usually have after the match. I think I’ll go stick one on my butt right now.

Mr. Ostentatious

Match 7 8 and 9

The Bravehearts (that’s us) have participated in a forfeit in which the other team only had 3 players show up, followed by a humiliating defeat 10-4, and a two-week break for Thanksgiving, and healing. Yesterday, unfortunately, was far more interesting.

We played a team led by this huge dude. He was a combination of Shaq, Mr. Clean and The Soup Nazi. Dude was about 6-6, bald and all about the soccer. When he headed the ball you could see the sweat fly off his head. Kinda cool, yet gross. Two minutes into the match he scored three goals, and then became bored. So he pulled on a goalie shirt and switched teams.

Say what? Yeah. Evidently, he has this thing with his teammates where he switches teams and smack-talks his teammates for the rest of the match. Every time he blocked a goal, and there were many, he would yell “No soup for you On one shot that was hard and close to the goal, he jumped up into the air with his body horizontal, creating a wall with his large body. The shot ricocheted off his foot and somebody took a rebound shot and he blocked that too. He was something to see.

Later in the match, I was playing sweeper when a stocky, angry foreigner had a breakaway toward our goal. He was running full-blast to the ball when I slid and kicked the ball away. Unfortunately, SAF tripped while running full-blast. He started bitching at me before he hit the ground. Yes, he did hit the ground with considerable force, but I didn’t touch the dude, all ball. Oops, I didn’t know slide tackles were illegal in our league. So many rules to learn, heh, heh. While making that stellar illegal play, I got simultaneous Charlie horses in both calves. They really hurt. As I’m on the ground pulling my toes toward me with all my strength I witnessed the following, surreal conversation.

“Slide kicks are illegal, they’re even illegal in the over-30 league,” one of their players says. “What’s wrong with that guy? He’s trying to hurt someone, blah blah, a--hole, blah blah, jerk, etc.” All this time, I really didn’t care because I’m still on the ground, pulling at my toes to relieve two Charlie horses.

Before they had a chance to light my jersey on fire or throw a urine bomb at me, my captain, Jim, came to my defense.

“He didn’t know the rule, he’s new,” Jim says.

“New? How new?” they ask.

“This is his first season,” Jim says.

“Well ... well... how come you didn’t tell him the rule?" they press.

“I didn’t know he didn’t know the rule,” Jim answers. “He’s never done it before.”

Then silence.

Later, I thanked Jim for saving my life. The other team could have beat the crap out of me and I was not going to let go of my toes. The calf pain was worse than any butt whipping.

Your favorite target, Mark

Match 10

A victory for the Bravehearts! We won our final match, 3-2. I must apologize because nothing really embarrassing or humiliating happened to me this match. I will try harder next time.

Thanks guys, it was fun. Mark