Self-Improvement Through Ultimate: Don't Be Afraid To Take A Dump

Back in my first or second year of university at Dal, my wife Terri worked part-time at an after school program at the Elementary in Porters Lake. On one particular Friday, I was to pick her up at work to head into the city for a then-standard night of binge drinking (ah, university!). Riding shotgun was a good friend, who – while perfectly nice – just happened to be that friend in any group who acts a little more badass than the rest. Like Donnie Wahlberg. He had the pierced tongue, the pierced eyebrow, always had a big bag of weed, and was the first to get a full sleeve tattoo. Y’know the guy…

Anyway, he serves no purpose to the story except to provide juxtaposition to the earnest preppiness of my wife, who was sporting her STAFF outfit and a purse full of gumballs when she climbed into the back seat of my grimy Civic hatchback. Shortly thereafter, somewhere between Mineville and Preston, she stuck her head in between the front seats and pulled an impressive Gene Simmons/Miley Cyrus tongue wag. And over the blare of the Faith No More or White Zombie or whatever it was, she said, completely innocently, in the exact tone and wide-eyed manner Mr. Dress-up or Barney would address a gaggle of 6 year-olds,  “Hey – my tongue’s purple. Is yooooours?!”

We still laugh about it to this day, and it is our go-to phrase whenever one of us comes across as overly condescending. My point? Well, I have started “coaching” my 3 year-old son’s soccer team, and have found that when I am addressing a group of people I tend to slip into my enthusiastic soccer Dad mode. So: (i) please be aware, and (ii) please tell me when this is happening!

BUT SERIOUSLY, FOLKS – it’s great to be back. I admit to being a little less than enthusiastic about the season starting up again – and first games are typically a complete shit show (browse blog to last year’s opening day) – but after watching those silver Hammer jerseys march up the field to nearly score on first possession, I was once again psyched soccer Dad. And, hey - Dan is back! We have some added skill and height in our arsenal with Jay (welcome, Jay)! No one got hurt!

The game itself: while we lost, we did so respectably – climbing back to within a single point by the end, and doing so with only one sub for the whole team. I like playing All Odds, as we seem to be comparable skill-wise, and the games seem to be relatively well-spirited despite:

• Me being completely railroaded by an overly aggressive/clumsy red dude;
• Said clumsy dude high-fiving me square in the face at the conclusion of the game;
• Me accidentally railroading a much smaller female as we both watch the disc fly overhead;
• Nick pummelling one of their larger dudes in a tight battle for the disc; and
• Jenn ripping the disc outta the hands of a red dude in the end zone for a score.

I love it. Of note: not a single foul was called. Maybe we should talk about this next game. J

Ravenscraig Responsible Adult No Beer Night Player of the Game: Aimee “Queen of the Circus Catches” Yazbek. Holy shit. Honourable mention: Jenn, for advising us not to be afraid to “take a dump”.

I never am, Jenn.

See y’all next week!

-AA

PS: If anyone hasn’t yet settled with Captain Becky, please do so ASAP.