I hate soccer

N plays soccer. He’s a rude, disrespectful, hateful, entitled, angry 17 year old who has no friends for a reason. He’s in a wheelchair with a degenerative muscle disease and he’s pissed at the world because of it. He hates “walkers” and thinks able bodied people are “lazy.” Add to all of this that he is not a smart kid either and you have a huge ball of stupid, ignorant, self-loathing, anger that lashes out at everyone in fear of being hurt again by other people.

One of the few things he gets any “joy” from is playing soccer. His team is quite good (despite his obvious distain for the team, his lackadaisical manner on the court, and refusal to learn plays).  He plays goalie most of the time and (by his own admission) he get’s lucky and makes some really great saves. 

Soccer is every Saturday morning, but sometimes we have tournaments. The team must play a certain number of tournaments to play in the conference cup. Last weekend we had one and this weekend we had one with the same teams. The team is good and the local teams (within 500 miles) are not so good. Our guys have their faculties and most can move their heads to see behind them. Other teams have players who are so physically disabled that it seems they can barely comprehend what is happening around them much less challenge a team with a  US Para-Olympian.

So we pound them.

And pound them.

And pound them.

But this need to win by as many goals as possible by the coach and players against obviously inferior teams is not why I hate soccer.

I hate soccer because of the other families.

The families are cliquey. Well, not so much cliquey as they exclude R and I because R’s ex made sure that they all knew that he left her for me. But that is another post. So they ignore me, turn away from me, scoot over if I sit near them. It brings flashbacks of middle school. “You can’t sit there, it’s saved. Saved. Saved. Saved.”

I hate the feeling it gives me. Like I’m worthless. I don’t know why I feel this way. Why I let them make me feel this way. But I am a people pleaser. Most of the time I don’t care what people think of me or what I do. But I don’t generally have much to worry about. I’m a nice person (for the most part), who is happy and gets along with most people. So when I enter into a situation where people don’t just ignore me but actively dislike me I have an issue.

I feel like I’m in the spotlight and judged both on the things I’ve done and those I have not done. Those things that were made up and created in a small minded person’s head. I try to be nice. I try to take the high road.  But it still makes me feel like that fat gawky middle school girl who has no friends and just wants to be accepted, not disdained and ignored.

Someone suggested as I was lamenting my lack of friends in this circle and the active dislike, that I be an even bigger version of myself. That I act happier, joyfuler (hmm..not a word), friendlier than I already do. Make sure that everyone knows the awesome rock star I am, and not the gawky kid I was that still comes out to play every now and then. But I am not that “in your face” person. I am who I am. I can’t hide that I’m hurt by their behavior.