Carpe Diem (don’t get hurt!)

If you’ve been around here long enough, you know that when it’s my turn to blog I am not shy to write about my latest puppy project or about various aspects of my cancer journey. Maybe I should get these two topics right out of the way. My rat terrier mix Timmy “baby T.Rex on a bad day” is turning one next week and hopefully leaving a few not-so-cute puppy habits behind. And, by the end of the month, I’ll be a 7-year cancer survivor. Thanks, Dana-Farber!

Whether from cancer, from COVID, or from aging and life in general, I’ve tried to take more of a “carpe diem” approach lately. Life might be short, right?

To that end, I was just starting to think that my motorcycle sport riding career was coming to an end, 27 years in. Instead of hanging it up for more days on the golf course, I sold my Ducati Monster over the summer and bought a BMW R1200RT. You’ve seen the BMW, the ones that the California Highway Patrol uses, the bike with all the luggage and big windscreen? The Ducati is a “naked” sport bike with no wind protection and no creature comforts, whereas the BMW has heated handgrips and a heated seat. If that’s not a lot of comfort for this aging frame, I don’t know what is. I should have a few more riding years left, now.

One of the even more dramatic and decisive changes I’ve made this year is to start playing soccer again. It’s always been my favorite sport to play. From day one, back in the days of Pele and town recreation soccer, the only position I ever cared about is goalkeeper. My parents were not thrilled, knowing that a lot can go wrong by repeatedly throwing oneself to the ground and at the feet of a striker intent on blasting the ball into the net just behind me. I didn’t care. I loved that the goalkeeper was “different” from the other ten kids. I also, to be candid, could not imagine running around chasing the ball for 60-90 minutes. I’d much rather the ball come to me.

I advanced up through invite-only club travel team, high school varsity, and then lettered my first two years in college. I was at the top of my game and living out my dream, but at nineteen years old my soccer career abruptly ended. Before I knew it, I was suiting up not for the pitch but for my day-to-day work at a financial institution, then accounting firm, then software company, then hospital. I became more suited to watching soccer than playing soccer. 35 years went by fast.

What changed lately? I finally looked around and saw that women’s soccer is nearly everywhere and thriving in Massachusetts. At every skill level, year-round. Why not give it a shot? I decided to stop being Al Bundy. You, know…Married with Children, reliving over and over his high school quarterback days? And to stop wistfully humming Bruce Springsteen’s Glory Days song. If not now, when? It’s time to carpe diem. 35 years is too long.

I did it. I signed up and played futsal, a form of indoor soccer, last winter. I kind of loved it. Yes, there were some bumps and bruises and a lot of nights heating and icing, the old familiar scent of BenGay (now Icy Hot) again stinking up my workout clothes decades later. I then upped the ante this fall, last week in fact. I got a call from a stranger named Dave. They needed a female player for an indoor co-ed 7v7 team. 18+ and very competitive. I did the math. 18+18+18 = 54. My age. I expressed to Dave that this could be a very bad idea, for us all. I shared that I could be some of my teammates’…grandmother. Yes, grandmother. Gasp. There is a Soccer Grannies team, a very good Soccer Grannies team, but this is not that team. Dave paused for a minute, and I did not expect his answer. He said, “it would be completely bad-a$$ to have a female ‘keeper, do you have gloves and are you in?” Not sure if he is crazier than I am, but of course every proper goalie has gloves and I agreed. Carpe diem!

Game 2 was a few days ago. I made some respectable saves, and we were very competitive. My blog post for Dana-Farber was due the next day. Sadly, I was at the hospital getting an x-ray. I am still waiting for an MRI appointment. Apparently, some 54-year-old bodies don’t dive as well as 19-year-old bodies. I injured my shoulder/bicep but made the save, it was amazing. I’d rank this one just below a top right corner save against Princeton in 1987. The one that, as a freshman, earned me the starter spot and the nickname “flypaper” back in the day.

Note to self…carpe diem, but don’t get hurt!