"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!"
After taking an expensive taxi to Efrat Friday morning, I was fortunate to hitch a ride with the Leibowitzes to the Central Bus Station this morning. So what if I got there at 10 a.m. for the 12:30 van-- I was able to read a lot of my new book, "Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister" by Gregory Maguire (I finished it later today). The book, which places the story of Cinderella in the context of 17th century Holland, discusses the concept of Cinderella and her beauty in a way very similar to Wilde's "The Portrait of Dorian Gray." I also grabbed a quick shawarma before heading to catch the 12:30 van.
Unfortunately, someone had forgotten to call the van, so we had to order it anew. The earliest it could come was 2:25, so we had a good two hours to kill. Ilan, Ezra and I taught everyone else the nuances of Fa-No-Ha-So, and when that proved to be boring, we headed to a nearby park. We borrowed a soccerball, and proceeded to play what I think is the worst game of soccer the world has ever seen. I played with Yehuda, Ezra, and Kirby, and we lined up against Yisrael Klitzner, Marans, Weiler, and Ilan. The game was simply ugly: bad passes, the ball flying every which way, mud everywhere. Some of my personal favorites were Yehuda kicking the ball as his shoe went flying; Marans trying to hit the ball with his chest, but missing in an almost art-like form; and Marans the goalie stopping a shot with his hands, only to have the ball then dribble through for the winning goal. I think I saw some Israelis crying, but I'm not sure; they may have been trying to gouge out their eyes at that travesty, that sham, that mockery, of their sport. I think the word should be travshamockery.
The final score was 5-4 (we won), and I think I have solved the problems with soccer. Yes, our pitiful game has enlightened me. The new rules:
a. The field must be made smaller. I don't know how much smaller, but definitely smaller. This ensures that the ball must get in the goal sometime. I'm talking Arena football small.
b. Limit the number of people on the field. Our four on four was just perfect.
c. All goalies must be midgets, children, or at the very least, unathletic. All these diving saves mean less scoring. The more incapable the goalie, the better the game. Similarly, the goal will also be doubled in size.
d. The goal will be like one of those basketball arcade games. You know, when the goal moves back and forth, side to side, and you get more tickets per basket? Like that?
e. And, of course, the upside to all this is hearing those announcers go "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!"
And let's face it, the more this happens, the more we enjoy the game.
Happy birthdays to yous,
Happy birthdays to yous,
Happy birthdays to Liza and Lisa and Rachel and Yehuda,
Happy birthdays to yous!
Unfortunately, someone had forgotten to call the van, so we had to order it anew. The earliest it could come was 2:25, so we had a good two hours to kill. Ilan, Ezra and I taught everyone else the nuances of Fa-No-Ha-So, and when that proved to be boring, we headed to a nearby park. We borrowed a soccerball, and proceeded to play what I think is the worst game of soccer the world has ever seen. I played with Yehuda, Ezra, and Kirby, and we lined up against Yisrael Klitzner, Marans, Weiler, and Ilan. The game was simply ugly: bad passes, the ball flying every which way, mud everywhere. Some of my personal favorites were Yehuda kicking the ball as his shoe went flying; Marans trying to hit the ball with his chest, but missing in an almost art-like form; and Marans the goalie stopping a shot with his hands, only to have the ball then dribble through for the winning goal. I think I saw some Israelis crying, but I'm not sure; they may have been trying to gouge out their eyes at that travesty, that sham, that mockery, of their sport. I think the word should be travshamockery.
The final score was 5-4 (we won), and I think I have solved the problems with soccer. Yes, our pitiful game has enlightened me. The new rules:
a. The field must be made smaller. I don't know how much smaller, but definitely smaller. This ensures that the ball must get in the goal sometime. I'm talking Arena football small.
b. Limit the number of people on the field. Our four on four was just perfect.
c. All goalies must be midgets, children, or at the very least, unathletic. All these diving saves mean less scoring. The more incapable the goalie, the better the game. Similarly, the goal will also be doubled in size.
d. The goal will be like one of those basketball arcade games. You know, when the goal moves back and forth, side to side, and you get more tickets per basket? Like that?
e. And, of course, the upside to all this is hearing those announcers go "GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAL!"
And let's face it, the more this happens, the more we enjoy the game.
***
On a totally unrelated note, I fell behind in the birthday count. I was away from home and thus did not have my birthday calendar with me, but that is no excuse. So let me see: Liza (January 18), Lisa (19), Rachel, and Yehuda (both 22), allow me to form a scrumtrellescent birthday song for all of you:Happy birthdays to yous,
Happy birthdays to yous,
Happy birthdays to Liza and Lisa and Rachel and Yehuda,
Happy birthdays to yous!
posted by Yoni Bain | 12:09 PM
1 Comments:
Re: soccer--wouldn't a bigger ball help as well? and maybe legalizing the use of hands...and allowing tackling...yeah!! And maybe the goalies should be seeing impaired as well (if the goalie wears glasses, confiscate them for the game)...Oh, what marvelous ideas you have! Let's move on to new rules for baseball and start with the size of the bat...
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