I like soccer. There, I said it. I like soccer and I'm proud. I like to play soccer, I like to watch soccer being played, and sometimes I will even watch people watching soccer being played. I have a small collection of soccer shirts in my closet. They make fun of me when I wear them to work. I don't care.
I paid $200 for a pair of soccer shoes (don't tell Tab) that I only wore for a few months before I sprained my knee and stopped playing. I wore a pair of shin guards that the cat peed on. You can't get that smell out. I have many pairs of soccer shorts in the colors of the rainbow (blue, white and black). I have long soccer socks that stretch over my knees if I don't roll them down. I have generic soccer shirts that have grass stains and sweat stains on them.
I pulled my calf muscles twice. I pulled my hamstring twice. I twisted my ankle once. I sprained my knee twice. I broke my big toe once. I got a red card for tipping a ball over the cross bar with my hand (I wasn't the goalkeeper). I broke up fights. I started fights (little ones - with words). I kicked a guy on the ankle so hard I thought I broke something. I apologized.
I wasn't particularly good. But I wasn't terrible. I could break up plays and make good passes. I scored a goal with my left foot (I was trying to cross the ball into the box). I scored a goal with my right foot (I was trying to score a goal). I probably scored an own goal ( I don't remember). I gave away at least one penalty (they didn't score, at least once). I was enthusiastic.