Oh snap.

I am in a very foul mood.

For the second week in a row now, I have come home from a soccer game wanting to hang up my cleats forever. What's the deal?!
I'm almost over last week, but today-- oh today. Livid.
First of all, my expectations were high-- it was still daylight (first time since playing here) and it was 60 degrees! Totally set it up for bliss. I arrived to the field that took seriously like 45 minutes to get to due to rush hour, and discovered it is grass. FML. I haven't played on grass consistently since high school and I hate playing on grass. I will admit it, I am a full blown turf snob. Not only does it make for a more consistent and predictable bounce on the ball, it is way less brutal on my achy breaky knees. Grass turns your legs into cement blocks. and your feet into sledge hammers. THEN we only had seven people show up-- again flash back to high school club soccer. It SUCKS playing even one man down, much less FOUR. Not even the sunny weather could negate the grass and lack of teammates. But we played on-- within five running steps my knee caught funny and didn't stop throbbing for the next 90 minutes. About 20 minutes into the first half I took a spill (as I ricocheted off some large man) right on to my right patella-- which has been and continues to be the bane of my existence. Every step on the uneven and SUPER LONG grass was brutal. My touch was so incredibly horrendous due to the rugged terrain and a dysfunctional right leg. When my touch is off, all bets are off. That's the one 'thing' I could ever claim in the game (that and 'vision'... ugh). I am not fast and no matter how hard I have tried to be, speed is something I do not excel in. So granted-- I was kind of bumbling around out there- AT RIGHT WING NO LESS. Probably the WORST position I could be put in. UGH. People slowly started to trickle in leisurely. I'm sorry, I was taught that if you're late, you are RUNNING to the field. When tardy turds saunter in giggling and chatting with spectators I want to throw up on them. At on particular point, I got called for a lame foul-- some thick foreign man was shielding the ball but his legs were SO FAR apart so I poked my foot between his legs to get the ball from behind him. Apparently that's not allowed. A tardy teammate who was SITTING on the sideline as she casually put her shoes on goes "From behind," in such a know-it-all-I'm-perfect-you-suck-how-do-you-sleep-at-night way. I raised my eyebrows at her and said, "Thank you, I'm aware." (...even though I didn't know that was a foul.. whatever). The rest of the game this girl talked to me like I was four years old and had never even HEARD of the sport of soccer in my life, much less played and coached for many many years. I can't even articulate the ludicrous nature of her tone. It pissed me off SO SO SO much. Once it was our goal kick and the goalie had to go quite a ways to retrieve the ball, so I took advantage of that time and was walking to where I needed to be. She yells to me "HEY! GET WIDE... ALL THE WAY TO THE SIDELINE ON GOAL KICKS." I looked at her again and said "I'm on my way there, thank you." I didn't try to hide my pissed off tone. She said the same thing to me again maybe ten minutes later-- I hadn't NOT gotten wide, I hadn't been out of position-- if there were reason for her to correct me, then I might not get as upset, but when it's totally unjustified, I don't tolerate it well. This time I yelled to (at?) her "I KNOW. I AM GOING. I AM CREATING THE SPACE. I AM DOING WHAT I NEED TO. THANK YOU." She shutup a little bit after that. A while later she asked if I wanted to play center and she could play wing, undoubtedly because she thought she could do better at wing, and fine, she probably could. So I accepted the offer enthusiastically. GUESS WHO DIDN'T GET WIDE. GUESS WHO DIDN'T COME BACK TO MARK UP. --EVEN WORSE-- GUESS WHO GOT YELLED AT BY THE SWEEPER TO MARK HER PLAYER WHEN SHE STAYED UP TOP?!?!?! ME. The next time she failed to come back, I yelled to her that she needed to get back-- that didn't go over well.. soo the next time I just picked up her person, trying to turn the other cheek. She kept looking back at me and then looking to the middle (where I should have been) and then she goes "Why don't you go back to the middle?" And I pointed to HER mark and said "Well, I'm marking this player right now, so I was going to stay on her, but if you want to come back and do your job, I'd love to go to the middle." I was so cheezed off by the entire game at this point. I drove through rush hour traffic to play on a shitty field to hurt myself to play in a game where I apparently was in capable of even knowing what to do to get yelled at and bossed around my a know it all snatch who wouldn't even follow her own instructions. AND WE LOST. No thank you I have no desire to be a part of that.
What happened to the game where we pass to feet and work the ball up the field as a team? What happened to the game where we work together and play GOOD soccer? What happened to the game where we relied on skill and intelligence and vision as opposed to speed and how hard you can push? It is so unfortunate that a potentially awesome 90 minutes can be spoiled by a few who really just suck in their attitude and demeanor towards others. It is more unfortunate that I haven't found a way to rise above those boogers in the punch bowl and enjoy the game regardless of their antics.
UGH. I swear she is the spawn of Troy.
For the record-- I do accept constructive criticism. If I am f-ing it up consistently, by all means, offer your two cents. I know that being on the field doesn't offer the time or environment to sugar coat anything so things often come across as curt or mean. I totally acknowledge that and can accept instructions in whatever tone when it is called for . But even though I was not the super star of the game today, I was not the peon that this tool-ette made me out to be and her conduct was completely un-called for. UGH the more I think about it the more I want to never play again-- with her or not. Doesn't seem worth it to get so riled up. I could seriously rant for a lot longer, but I'd say it's gone long enough.
(Final note: it's been quite some time since I've been THIS irritated-- it seriously reminds me of my senior season at NP-- and when I got to this point in frustration and fury I dealt with it by running (because Lord knows I didn't expend any physical energy warming that damned bench-- lets not go there). But right now it is all I can do to walk to the shower and stand in there long enough get clean. I am 24 years old but I might as well be 80. I even have the wrinkles for it. Wah).