Oof

We played bruisers this Sunday. Whiny bruisers. Women who thought nothing of pushing us around, then bitching about getting “a bump” when their crappy passes went awry. Who didn’t seem to appreciate elbows to the boobs or some tit-for-tat fouling. Not that I’d do anything of the sort. Ever.

The game went like that: they pushed us, we eventually pushed back, they bitched and retaliated,  then got fouls called on them. Ms. “Sorry about the pass, I got a bump” had already put her elbow into me (and then made a crappy, straight-to-the-sideline pass because of my positioning, not the “bumps.” She switched sides of the field after the next run up the field, sadly.) In the second part of the first half, I took a shot on goal and got a shinguard to the side-leg: right next to the shinguard, right above the ankle guard. I *might* have imediately returned the favor on the other side of the field. And then I *might* have asked for a sub because my leg hurt so much from the initial hit.

I was hurting. I played like crap when I went in again. And I felt so out of it. TCB thought I looked rough when I came out during the second half, and I couldn’t figure out what was going on. Did I eat something bad at the party beforehand? Was I dehydrated? Was I too full from the party? Was it George’s gel-pack that leaked all over me at halftime?

Second half, during the half break, the team decided to go for an offensive push, and that was cool. Just calling it an “offensive push” made everyone step up and play like they should have been, getting aggressive, stepping to the ball, staying with marks. Unfortunately, our keeper took a bad step and had to come out. I put on her (pre-warmed) shirt (I hadn’t packed an extra colored shirt this game) and gloves (didn’t want to leave mine in the hot car) and went in. Felt good, though got scored on twice, though: once on a low ball that went *just* under my arm on a close-to-goal breakaway, and one where I stepped and stabbed with my leg on a knee-height ball instead of collapsing But I stopped a bunch. And I certainly paid for that first miss- scraped and bruised arm & hip (and having to work now to keep the arm-bruise from draining into my elbow.) Had I gotten the ball, the ball would have taken that impact instead of me. I used to think of keeper bruises as a pride point, but now I see that some of these bruises are a sign of poor technique or missing the ball. I did manage to figure out drop-kicks during my keeper stint (punting isn’t allowed in summer league, which is fine because I can clear the short field with a punt, and would think that others can also.)

A day and a half after that first leg-hit, I’m still worried about it. It hurts, in that sick-to-my-stomach kind of way. It’s tender. It’s bumpy. It’s drained into my foot (unsightly!) I might go see someone about it and hope to hear it’s just horrible bruising, because the last time I got something checked out when feeling like this, I’d broken my collarbone. Hoping it’s just bruising. Just a crap-tastic bruise.

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Oof

  1. Update: felt much better when I woke up, the black on the bottom of my foot moved back into the heel area. Didn’t feel so hot after walking, but ice + elevation helped. Arm’s more sore, hurts to bend it all the way.

  2. Rest, Elevation, Compression, Ice (R.I.C.E.); Sounds like a big muscle bruise with some bleeding.

  3. That’s the conclusion I’ve come to, too. My foot looks really cool, all black on the inside side, below my ankle. Doesn’t show up well in pictures, unfortunately. Also not a good “hey come play soccer with us! It’s so much fun!” tool while we’re recruiting.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s