English and American Football

Last week we played Cambridge away. We previously beat them 17-0 on our home turf, and we took a strong squad this time, so we went into the game feeling pretty confident. And then something happened that we didn't expect: they were good. We battled back and forth for the first 20 minutes of the game, and something was off. It was our first BUCS game back since the Christmas holiday, and we weren't jelling. Very few of us were playing to our full ability, there was a breakdown in communication, and I started to get scared. But we persevered, started talking more, and finally got a goal in. That first goal really took it out of us. Everyone limped back to their starting positions, unfit and unhealthy, and we prepared to do it all again. "That first goal was the hardest, the rest will come easy!" I encouraged. So we battled. And the next one didn’t come easy, but it was quicker than the first. That second goal was when the adrenaline kicked in, and I realized that we could beat this team. Limping back to starting positions once again, I yelled, “Come on girls, it’s like the second half of Braveheart!” which made the referee chuckle. It was. And then, we just played brilliant football. I defended like I never have, and we talked continually, put our passes together and outplayed Cambridge. Final score: 12-0. After the game one of my teammates informed me that one of the Cambridge players told her, “we like number 3, she says everything with a smile on her face.” It feels incredible to be an integral part of something I love on the other side of the world. I found my niche. When I get back to the city I need to find a more competitive team, one with players who love the game and want to be the best they can be, and a coach who knows how to inspire his players to want to work hard.

Since coming to England, I have started to get the feeling that some things happen solely for my benefit, which may sound egocentric, but it’s true. Last night I went to campus planning to watch the Superbowl at the Union pub. I heard they were staying open late to show it, and I thought it would be a great atmosphere. When I turned up, I found out it was a fiver to get in, and none of my friends were willing to pay. Neither was I. Disappointed, I decided to catch the last bus home so that I could sleep in my bed rather than on someone’s floor and watch the highlights later. When I boarded the bus, there was Sam Mac, one of my football girls. She had left the pub too, not wanting to pay to watch the game, but still wanted to see it. So she invited me over and we had some Fosters and I explained how American Football works, and we laughed and told stories and rooted for the Saints. And then the Who played the halftime show, and it was perfect. Working Sundays, I have sadly missed the past three Superbowls in a row. And I love Super Sunday. We always have a huge party and it’s messy and amazing and it’s the only day you can be drunk before lunch. So it was really special staying up past 3 am to watch the game in England, and sharing it with someone who had never seen a football game, and it was amazing, the Underdog was victorious. Walking home, the sky was bright from light pollution and a classic English rain dripped, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. :)