100%

“Lactic acid” Monday’s are here again. The day after the game, when every muscle and tendon is screaming for relief. Every step is taken with trepidation. My brittle bones are snapping at me.

Soccer can be a punishing game. At least the brand I like to play, which is all out, leave it on the field, full throttle kind of play. I’m a worker, a digger, and a scrapper. The game didn’t come easy to me when I was a youngin. I was always the 12th man, never a starter. I didn’t have electrifying skill, blazing speed, intimidating size. I was pretty average all around, relegated to a role player.

But I did have heart and, in later years, I developed a brain for the game. But, to this day, I work, I run, I stick my leg in there.

My friends were the superstars, the goal scorers, the MVPs. I received an award or two, but never the kind you want to get. I can’t tell you how many honorable mentions (read: not good enough for a real award) I was graced with. A ridiculous number, actually.

As a senior in high school I was awarded with something called the 100% award. What the crap is a 100% award? I can hear my coach saying,”well, he was here for 4 years, and guy sure worked hard. Gotta give him somethin’.”

That used to burn me up, being overlooked. But that’s not why I played as a kid, or why I play now. I’ve fallen in love with the work. I’m approaching 37 now, and still giving it 100%.

Most of that happens off the field.