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Tag: soccer

English and crocodile tears

I mentioned yesterday that getting from Rotterdam to Amsterdam via the train was a bit of a fiasco. Before reading this there are three things you should know. 1. I used to live over there so I have a fairly good idea of how the train system works. Or at least I think I do. 2. I speak Dutch fairly well. I’m not 100% fluent but I speak it well enough to get around and understand what’s going on around me. 3. Thinking you know things better than you actually do can be worse than not knowing anything at all.

Once I got into Amsterdam I was supposed to meet a former au pair friend of mine but I couldn’t get a hold of her before I left. We had talked the day earlier and she said she’d be into Centraal Station around 6pm. I could have gone earlier and been with my host family’s current au pair but I wanted to spend a few more hours with them. At the time I thought I would leave for home early the next morning and wouldn’t see them for a long while. Ha!

Anyway, of course I hung around until the last possible second and got to the station way later than I should have been. Since I was running late I decided to take the express train since it would get in at 6 instead of the normal getting in at 6:30.

I’d never taken the “super fast” train before so I asked at the desk for that train specifically. I double checked when she handed me the ticket that it was for the fast train. Oh no, I have to pay extra for the fast train. Ok I knew that (and why I asked for the fast train but whatever). I paid the extra, she handed me a different ticket, I took that one and made a run for the train since I had less than five minutes until it was supposed to leave.

I was relieved that I am a fast runner and made the train with a minute or two to spare. I found my seat and glanced down at my ticket. That’s when I realized what I was holding in my hand wasn’t a ticket at all. All I had was a voucher for the extra fee. In a panic (because the fine for not having a ticket can be 50+ euros) I went to the door to ask if what I had was enough. Nope, he said. I stood at the door not knowing what to do. I would like to mention that to the conductor, I spoke English. Sure, I could have easily spoke Dutch but then? How could I feign being an ignorant tourist?

The train was leaving so there was no way I could go all the way back to the ticket counter. If I waited then I spent an extra 8 euros for nothing since the next express train wasn’t for another hour. I’d just have to take a normal train. I told him I paid for a ticket but this voucher was all I had. He was nice and said a ticket was only 10 euro so I should just stay on the train.

That would have been fine but stupid me only brought a few euros more than I would need to get there and back. I opted not to bring my credit card because I didn’t want to lose it. At this point I was at the brink of tears. I was mad that I was going to pay double for a ticket and worried that I wouldn’t have enough money to get home.

As soon as the conductor came by I burst into tears. I’m talking, giant crocodile tears. I started to tell him I wouldn’t have enough to get home and I really did pay for a ticket I swear. He interrupted me mid outburst and asked how much I had paid. I told him how much and he said not to cry, someone found my ticket. He then stamped both tickets and walked away leaving me feeling like an idiot for crying.

I wish I could thank whomever found my ticket. Or maybe the conductor just felt bad for me and pretended someone did and so he could let me on the train. Either way, I had enough money to get me there and home despite my poor planning.

After I got to the station I waited around for several minutes before I heard that my friend was actually sick and not going to make it. I know she couldn’t help it but seriously? I went through all that just to get there 20 minutes sooner… and I wasn’t even meeting anyone. ::sigh::

As you know I ended up having a great time anyway. Why the darn lady at the ticket counter didn’t call after me I’ll never know. I really don’t think I was running that fast that she didn’t notice. I also don’t remember there being anyone behind me, or even in the ticket area at all. Thank goodness for English and my ability to cry crocodile tears on command.

Lost in a sea of orange

I finally have internet here again which means I can finally post about the game. Yes I used finally twice in the same sentence. I’m that excited, ok?

It was quite the experience. I’ve had two weeks now to process everything but it’s still hard for me to put into words exactly how it felt to be there. I went alone which was ok. It was kind of disappointing because I was supposed to meet a friend but she ended up getting sick. Getting there on the train was a bit of a fiasco, involving a ticket mix up but that could be a post all by itself.

Once I arrived in Amsterdam I made my way through the sea of orange to Museumplein.

It was funny because as I was walking down this main street I realized that I didn’t actually know exactly how to get to Museumplein. I mean, I’ve been there dozens of times but it’d been years. I had a general idea so I decided to just follow the masses of people. They all seemed to be walking in the same general direction. It worked out but I did end up taking a rather round about way. Turns out, not everyone in Amsterdam was going to Museumplein to watch the game. Psh.

One of the things I love most about the Dutch is their enthusiasm for all things Nederland. The orange outfits ranged from impressive to just hilarious.

This? Was probably not even the weirdest outfit there. Just the weirdest I got a picture of.

The area was set up to hold 100,000 people. They estimated there were 180,000 people there. When I say we were like sardines I’m not exaggerating even a little. There were times I was moving through the crowd and my feet weren’t even touching the ground. I’ve been to many rock concerts and outdoor festivals but I have never been in a crowd that was this jam packed. Generally in big crowds there are breathing areas where people are spaced out a bit more. Not here. We were shoved, shoulder to shoulder as far as you could see. If you could see the screen, you were smooshed up against people on all sides.

Oh right, have I mentioned that Dutch people are statistically the tallest people in the world? Yup. Have I also mentioned that I’m 5’4″? So when I mentioned seeing the screen I really meant the people who were 6′ and above.

This picture (and all crowd shots) I took on my very tippy toes with my hand stretched as high above my head as I possibly could.

Not even joking, this…

was my view for about half the game. Not actually bad to look at per se, but also not exactly what I came to see. My head was barely at their armpit height. Halfway through I decided to move around. I never actually found a good spot to watch from so I basically took my cues from the crowd as to what was going on in the game.

This is my very favorite picture from the trip. It was clearly a very intense moment in the game.

Being in the big crowd alone was overwhelming to say the least. Not that I was nervous or felt unsafe but it’s amazing how alone you can feel when everyone around you has a group. There were friendly people but mostly guys and I’m pretty sure it was mainly for ulterior motives. Actually, their motives were fairly clear in certain cases. One group of four guys was so excited that they put me in the middle and humped me from all sides. Fun. Another guy asked me (for his ::cough:: friend) if I “wanted to have sex because he’s very horny”. Charming. It didn’t bother me necessarily but it would have been nice to have my own group of people.

By the way, it was hot. The Netherlands is supposed to be all mild with the weather. You know, mid 70’s in the summer. Beautiful. Not this summer though. At one point it was 93 degrees. Ninety-freakin-three degrees. That, combined with the fact that there was copious amounts of alcohol being consumed and we were crammed together like cattle, made for a seriously smelly experience.

At one point a helicopter flew over and dropped orange gerber daisies on the crowd. It was very pretty but also perhaps to help with the smell? Please ignore my incredibly sweaty bangs. Gross. Also notice the guy next to me is several inches shorter than I am. Poor dude couldn’t see anything either. We would have commiserated about it together but he only spoke French and Spanish. Ah well.

The noise level was unbelievable. Not only was there cheering and yelling and singing but the vuvuzelas. Oh the vuvuzelas. Also, air horns. I’m not sure what’s worse. Honestly? I’m leaning towards the air horns. At least they have to stop when the user needs a breath. It was noisiest before the game started. While they were playing there were moments where the quiet was almost eerie considering how many people were there. It was quickly followed by shouts of excitement or disappointment but some moments the tension was something you could actually feel. That was the best part of being in that insane crowd, feeling every emotion of the game times 180,000.

Yes, there were moments when I was beyond disgusted. First off the smell, which I have already mentioned. Then there was the time I watched a guy just pee, right in front of me, in the middle of the crowd. He didn’t want to lose his spot. At that moment I was never so happy to be wearing tennis shoes instead of sandals. I may have looked like a dumb tourist but at least my toes weren’t anywhere near touching that filthy ground. There was also the beer flying through the air (why do people waste perfectly good beer? I don’t get it.) Then the vomit. And God only know what other liquids.

Amsterdam is generally a very clean city. Not so much when there’s a game apparently.

I’ll be honest with you. I didn’t stay for the entire game. About three quarters of the way through I went to the edge of the crowd. I just couldn’t handle being smashed against so many strangers anymore. It wasn’t like I could actually see anyway. I did stay until Spain scored their goal. There were only a few minutes left so I knew it was over. Plus? I. was. dead.

See? Dead.

I wanted to catch a train as fast as humanly possible. I knew that I would only be ahead of most of the crowd by a bit but I hoped that it was enough of a head start that I could maybe get a seat. It worked. I had to stand until the first stop and after that I was able to sit down. I really needed to sit down, see above picture as evidence.

What an incredible experience it was. I really am glad I went. There were moments where I doubted my sanity in going. The train trouble getting there, the intensity of braving the enormous crowd alone and the stress of getting a flight home all made me wonder if it had been worth it. In the end I really think it was. It’s a story I’ll always have. That’s really why I did it, for the adventure.

And boy, from start to finish, what an adventure it was.

Hup Holland Hup

Go Nederland! Kick Spain’s ass!

“Hup Holland hupOranje_leeuw_3
Laat de leeuw niet in z’n hempie staan
Hup Holland hup
Trek het beessie geen pantoffels aan

Hup Holland hup
Laat je uit ‘t veld niet slaan
Want de leeuw op voetbalschoenen
Durft de hele wereld aan”

Also, this song below cracks me up. It’s called Het is Stil aan de overkant which translates to It’s Quiet on the Other Side. The whole song is making fun of the other team asking “Why aren’t you laughing?” “We’re singing, why aren’t you?”. HA-larious!



I really hope The Netherlands wins the World Cup today. Either way I will be decked out, screaming my head off cheering them on. Hup Holland!

Probably jet lagged

If you’re reading this it means I made my flight to The Netherlands. It also means I’m a big ball of tired jet lag. Going to Europe is always rough on me. You leave in the afternoon so you’re not that tired and it’s hard to sleep on the plane and you arrive early in the morning. Not early enough that you could go back to bed, just early enough that it’s for. freaking. ever. before you can realistically go to sleep for the night. If you take a nap then you’re pretty much screwed for sleeping at all at night time. Most of my first days in Europe I remember in a haze of sleepiness.

Anyway, I love this country so much or I wouldn’t have traveled all the way over here for only two days just so I can celebrate with them while they play in the World Cup final. I am so excited for them!

The first time I went to The Netherlands was in 2000. I was in Amsterdam for 2 weeks and during that time the Euro Cup was going on. I have never seen so much orange in my life. I first fell in love with the Dutch on that trip and I got my first hint of a crush on Joel there too. I was 14 so it was going to be more than 4 years before something came of it but it’s super sentimental to me.

I’m also ridiculously excited to spend some time with my former host family. My sweet Caroline, Timo and Morten are growing up so fast it makes my head spin. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen them. I think this is actually the longest I’ve gone without either them coming here or me going there. I miss them so much! One of these days I need to do a post about my time there. It was one of the greatest adventures of my life.

Alright, well send The Netherlands good vibes and me awake vibes. Unless you’re reading this in the afternoon, in which case I hope to be sleeping over here. So send me sleepy vibes… I’m asking way too much aren’t I? Just cheer for Oranje in the game tomorrow and we’ll continue being good friends. Tot ziens!

Battle wounds

Yesterday night I had a soccer game and I got beat up. The team we played against was rough and mean. Especially the girls. I mean, I’m competitive and play hard but they were practically growling. Plus, the elbowing and tripping were not necessary. It’s just for fun people! There is no prize! (or at least I don’t think there’s one) Anyway, the extreme aggression is just pointless.

Because of the over zealousness of the other team I ended up taking several falls and am quite sore today. I also ended up with some pretty decent marks and bruises. Most of them are boring scrapes and such, but one I am actually pretty proud of. I’m impressed with it mostly because it came from an awesome block on my part, if I do say so myself. A guy took a shot at the goal and I saved it with my knee. It stung like crazy! Enough that the dude asked if I was ok. It was a hard hit. I was fine but when I got home I took a better look.

Yes, that is an imprint of the soccer ball on my knee. Jealous?

I’m sorry but that? Is a pretty cool bruise. It’s more than 24 hours later and it’s still there in the same shape although it’s faded a little. Not exactly the sexiest thing around but I think Joel is impressed and that’s what really matters.

If you see me I won’t be rocking shorts for the next couple of weeks until these marks start to go away. Right now it’s very obvious that I got in a fight with a soccer ball… and it won.

Game Two

We lost again. World Cup Champions we are not. We did however improve over last week… by one point. What? Shut up.

Seriously stop laughing.

Anyway, Joel came to the game this time and took a couple pictures and video clips. It was hard to get a clear shot because I am so awesome and move like lightning there was a net in the way. He got a couple decent shots though and then turned it into a fun little video. Enjoy.

I play like a girl

But I’m ok with that. Today was my first soccer game. Honestly? I was nervous about it all day long. I’m lame like that. I generally get all worked up about new situations. Not enough to not do whatever it is, but enough to seriously consider backing out. What’s the fun of running away from life though? I love trying new things. There’s just those last second, what-the-heck-did-I-get-myself-into?!?! type thoughts that sneak in. If you virtually held my hand or made me laugh on Twitter while I freaked a little thank you so much.

Anyway, I worked up the nerve to go inside and was informed that since it’s a co-ed team there has to be two girls on the field at all times. There were two girls there. ::commence mental freak out number two:: The other girl (the smart one) quickly called playing defense and my eyes probably grew as big as saucers when I realized that meant I would be playing forward. ::visions of self being carried away on a stretcher:: Thankfully God loves me and another girl showed up before the game started which meant I could play defense and not die. Yay for not dying!

We played a pretty good game. Well, at least we tried really hard. I even got a few good blocks in. There were also a couple times when the ball when straight through my legs but we’ll not focus on those. The only really dumb thing I did was go back to the same side after half time. Duh, of course we switch sides halfway through. You’d think the fact that I was standing amidst the other team would have clued me in. Nope, one of my teammates had to call me over. ::facepalm:: Oh well.

I ended up playing almost the entire game. I think I sat out for maybe two or three minutes at the end of the first half but I stayed in the entire second half. Since I played defense I was able to rest while the ball wasn’t on our side. Don’t know if that’s what I was supposed to do but I did. So there. It meant I was only dying half the game. Or really like three quarters since the other team quickly figured out who the weakest player was and focused on my her side of the field.

We went a really long time and kept them from scoring. Aaaand then not so much. The final score was 7-1. They basically murdered us. At least we got the one goal so it wasn’t a complete embarrassment*. I didn’t mind losing so much since I was just proud of staying conscious. I think it really bugged a couple members of my team though so I felt a little bad about that. I’m definitely starting C25K tomorrow to get my endurance above like, zero.  I’m also going to try and get a soccer ball so I can practice between games. I don’t expect to play professionally (bahahaha, sorry just reading that makes me laugh) or anything but I know I could improve a lot if I just kicked a soccer ball around every day.

I’m really glad I joined this team. Not sure how glad they are that I joined but oh well. They need my warm body at least to be the second girl. For now? I’m cool with that.

*Yeah, who am I kidding? 7-1? That’s still a complete embarrassment.

What did I get myself into?

I mentioned before that a friend of mine asked me to join a soccer league with her. I said yes. My first practice is today and after running out to get my equipment I’m beginning to think I should file this under the what-was-I-thinking category.

At the Sox game last I got a coupon to Dick’s Sporting Goods. Normally that would have gone straight into the recycling bin but I needed soccer gear so off I went.

I can’t remember the last time I was in a sporting goods store. I think there was one at a mall I used to frequent and you had to walk through Dick’s to get to the rest of the mall. Actually being in one to buy something? I have no idea. Those places are massive! Since I’m clueless I immediately went to an associate and asked where soccer stuff was.

Over there in team sports.

Team sports, got it. I wandered through golf then running and managed to find the soccer section ok. I needed shin guards, socks and shorts. Hm, there’s a whole wall full of shin guards. Kids, small, medium or large…. How the heck do you know what size your shins are? Luckily I found someone to ask. He pointed me in a general direction of a measuring device.

Um, sure…. as I wander cluelessly in the direction he pointed.

I was looking for something like what you stick your feet in to measure shoes. Makes sense right? Nope, it was just a stick on the wall to tell you how tall you are. I stood against it and the guy said I was about 5’5″.

That puts you in a large.

Um, did he just call my shins fat? Whatever. Since I still had his attention I asked him about socks to wear under my shin guards.

You wear the socks over the shin guards.

::blush:: Haha, that could’ve been embarrassing.

He didn’t seem amused. What? Did they name Dick’s after the attitude their employees have. Geeze!

He went back to ignoring me while I looked through a rack of Adult soccer shorts. There were only two racks there, Kids and Adults but the smallest adult size was medium. I held it up to myself but it looked HUGE. So I asked if they had anything smaller.

Yea, those are men’s. Women’s are over there in soccer stuff.

I thought I was in soccer stuff. ::sigh:: And since when does Adult = Mens? Sexist.

I wandered to the other side of the store and finally managed to find the shorts.

Women’s shorts, which looks basically the same as the “men’s” shorts, they just come in smaller sizes.

So my trip to Dicks was a success, I think. I called my little sister to find out if there are any more dumb mistakes I could make… like putting my socks on under the shin guards instead of over. She laughed at me a little, but she was also nice and explained a couple rules I wasn’t sure about. I think I know what’s going on now. I think.

The whole Dick’s experience has made me even more nervous than I already was. My friend who invited me onto the team isn’t even going to be there tonight which doesn’t help my nerves either. Since I know no one else on the team.

If I make a giant fool out of myself at least it’ll make for a funny blog post, right?

Voetbal!

I joined an adult indoor soccer league today. Don’t laugh! I played indoor soccer when I was a kid. I was even on a really good team once. We made it all the way to the championship game with zero losses. The final game two of our best players decided not to show up and we ended up in second place for the year. I’m not still bitter. Really.

That was when I was 12 and I haven’t played since. In high school I was much more into music and the dramatic arts. I danced but that was about as sporty as I got. Soccer is still one of my favorite sports though and when a friend of mine asked me if I wanted to join a co-ed soccer league she was getting together I decided, what the heck. I did warn her that my soccer skills are probably not star quality.

I’m guessing there will be a lot less

and a lot more

Me of course being represented by the man lying on the ground hoping not to lose any teeth.

I’m mostly concerned about the amount of running that I’ll have to do. Stupid wisdom teeth making me stop C25K two weeks in. ::grumble grumble:: I’m planning on starting the C25K program over again tomorrow though since I’m finally all healed up. I don’t know if it will do anything in preparing me for playing soccer again but it’s better than nothing, right?

Either way I expect it to be a good time. Even if I end up being a bench warmer I’m cool with that. I wasn’t the star player even in my “prime”. Not that I primed at 12 years old… you know what I mean. Anyway, my hope is to meet some cool people and to get in better shape while having fun. If I don’t break my nose or collapse from all the running that will be a major bonus.

Goooooal!

The weather was so pretty most of the time I was out in California. There were a couple days of rain but mostly it was sunny and in the mid 50’s. It was perfect spring weather, at least for the Chicago area. Of course I’m completely jealous that that is normal winter weather for them. I’m still trying to figure out why exactly we don’t live there…

One of the nice days we went out to the football field on base so Hunter and Brandon could practice their soccer skills.

Brandon blocking one of Hunter’s shots. I’m pretty sure Hunter got a couple good goals though.

I’m not sure if he meant to wink at me or if the sun (which was directly behind me) was in his eyes.

Brandon ccould kick the ball seriously high and was great at heading the ball too. As you can see, Hunter was not at all thrilled about the idea of a soccer ball flying at his head.

Liz and I enjoyed sitting on the sidelines and soaking in the sun.

Hunter had a great time. He’s going to be a good little soccer player.

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