Soccer Sucks

The summer sun shone down upon the gym students of Santa Consuela High School like an oven baking a pizza. As they played soccer on the school’s grass field, sweat rained down from their bodies to where their gym clothes looked like they had just gone swimming in a river. The kids and their teacher Miss Lopez were in tiptop athletic shape, so slowing down wasn’t a problem. For mildly overweight student Ben Troy, huffing, puffing, and sluggishly dragging himself across the field was as natural as the sweat pouring from his body.

Ben hated gym class so much that his muscles tightened at the though of it, only to ask himself, what muscles? He gritted his teeth together every time Miss Lopez told him to “pick it up”. No gym teacher could begin to fathom what it’s like to be overweight and constantly tired. Ben could sleep for days after a shitty soccer game like this. He was already in such a foul mood that he could blow off a firestorm of swear words at the smallest annoyance.

But instead all it took was a flying soccer ball to Ben’s ribcage. The impact stung him so badly that he dropped to his knees and screamed like a wounded lion. The other students, who paid more attention to the game than to Ben, accidentally knocked him down as they passed him by, leaving the big guy rolling around in the grass and crying in agony.

Rather than relishing in his agony, Ben nipped up and stopped the game with cacophonic vitriol. “That’s it! I fucking quit! I hate this goddamn game and I hate you stupid ass motherfuckers! Why don’t you look where the fuck you’re going next time, you goddamn faggots!”

Every student on the field had their wide eyes on him and one kid mocked him with an, “Ooo, I’m so scared!”

“Shut up, pencil dick!” shouted Ben before stomping off of the field and sitting on a metal bench with his spine and shoulders hunched over. He looked down at his black sneakers and gray athletic shorts and breathed deeply in anger. Contrary to popular belief, heavy breathing didn’t calm him down in the least. He still felt like punching the heads off of everybody on that field. Maybe he could grab them by the legs and split them in half like a banana. Those seemed like reasonable options to a pissed off kid with weight issues and a teacher who constantly told him to “pick it up”. In Ben’s mind, the only thing they would be picking up his pieces of skull off of the grassy field.

“We need to talk,” said Miss Kira Lopez.

Deep down inside, Ben always thought that his thirty-something gym teacher looked attractive with her brown skin, black ponytail, and red gym shorts. But he was in no mood to think with his penis. He wanted to strangle people. He wanted to head butt that kid who made fun of him. He wanted to rip out the spinal columns of everyone who had ever made fun of him for being bad at sports.

Miss Lopez sat down next to Ben and said, “You know you’re going to get detention for swearing at your fellow students. Sure, I don’t like being hit with a soccer ball either, but those were some pretty harsh things you said. I certainly don’t appreciate you using a homophobic slur against them. You know the one I’m talking about.”

“Faggot isn’t a gay slur. It’s a generic insult. Everybody knows that,” argued Ben, still with his crew cut-wearing head tucked against his chest.

“You can debate the semantics of an insult all day long, but that doesn’t change the fact that you just earned yourself detention. I want to see you here after school for thirty minutes. We’ve got a lot to talk about,” said Miss Lopez.

“How many minutes of detention are those morons getting for knocking my ass over and smacking me with the ball? Huh? Soccer is supposed to be a non-contact sport, which means nobody’s supposed to get hurt. If you really wanted to injure your students so badly, why don’t you teach some MMA or some shit like that? At least then, beating the shit out of students will be legal.”

Miss Lopez placed a gentle hand on Ben’s shoulder and caused him to glare at her with the viciousness of a wild wolf. She said, “Listen to me. First of all, that look your giving me doesn’t mean anything right now. You can get mad all you want, but you’re in a gym class and you have an assignment to do. Second of all, if we allowed you to beat up whoever you wanted, you’d completely miss the point of soccer. In addition to being a non-contact sport, which you alluded to earlier, soccer is a team sport. In order for a team to be successful, they have to learn how to get along. That’s what school is about: building communities. What kind of community are we going to have if you’re constantly screaming vulgar insults at your classmates and threatening to kill them?”

“If you don’t want me to do those things, then tell those kids to stop hitting me with the goddamn ball. It’s that simple. And if they do hit me with the goddamn ball, give them the same amount of detention that I have,” suggested Ben.

“You know full well that that was an accident. Sure, we should try our best to reduce the number of accidents in sports, but that doesn’t mean everybody’s going to suddenly be perfect. Whether you know it or not, those other kids are depending on you to be their rock. They need your help in achieving victory. If you’re going to deny that to them, then you’re not really part of a community at all, are you?”

Ben swatted Miss Lopez’s arm away and said, “What the fuck do they need me for? I’m just a big fat ass who’s slower than an old lady crossing the street.”

The gym teacher folded her arms and looked at her student incredulously before saying, “Is that what you really believe? Do you really think that using your weight issues as a crutch is going to bring you happiness? I know you’re unhappy with your body, which is another reason gym classes exist. I know you don’t believe this right now, but I actually want you to live a long and healthy life. I want good things for you, Ben. You’re not going to get those good things if you’re just sitting here on the bench while your teammates are losing. Come on, give them another chance. Please?”

Ben breathed heavily in and out as he contemplated this point while trying to sooth his fiery anger. He reluctantly stood back up with his fists clenched at his sides, ready to go at a moment’s notice. But then he looked down at his teacher with the same venomous glare and said, “The next motherfucker who knocks me down is getting the shit kicked out of him. I don’t care how much detention I get. I still think soccer sucks.”

The vengeful student tromped his way back on the field and engaged his classmates in even more athletic warfare. He struggled with his cardio and sucked as much air as he possibly could from this burning and humid weather. Getting the soccer ball away from his opponents while managing to stay on his feet this time was a struggle that only added to his huffing and puffing.

Deep inside he didn’t want any more trouble than he had already gotten himself into. Something about Miss Lopez’s words struck a chord with him, though he wouldn’t openly admit it. Maybe it was teenaged attraction, but this was an even worse time to think with his penis. He had a game to win and goddamn it, he was going to win come hell or high water.

After a long while of sucking in air like a cyclone, Ben finally managed to gain control of the soccer ball. The easy part was over. Now it was time to channel is rage into positivity. All of this fire burning in his belly and lungs was now being used as fuel for his newfound athleticism. He ran with the ball like a freight train bursting down the tracks. He didn’t care about his saggy belly or thunder thighs. He didn’t care about his lightheadedness or quickly beating heart and brain. He didn’t care that his insides felt like he swallowed molten steel. He had this ball and he wasn’t letting go.

After a slight bump of the shoulders with another student, Ben felt like kicking some heads. In one thunderous motion, he threw his biggest, most earth-shattering kick his heavy frame would allow. But instead of concussing another student, his raging energy was directed toward the soccer ball. It flew through the air like cannon volley and sailed past the goalie before touching the net. Prior to that goal kick, the score was ten-to-ten. With only seconds remaining, Ben Troy just scored the final kick and led his team to victory.

In the midst of all of this raspy breathing, Ben’s eyes grew wide with disbelief as his fellow teammates cheered their heads off. He was in an even bigger state of disbelief when they actually had the strength to hoist him on their shoulders in an act of celebration. A small grin formed on his pudgy face as he was lowered to the grass. He finally did it. He made a difference in a way that didn’t involve homophobic slurs or extreme violence. For that small moment, he found his happiness. And then the overweight student collapsed to the ground and blacked out.

“Somebody get some help! Call 9-1-1!” shouted Miss Lopez. That was the last thing Ben heard before taking his happy ass into dreamland, or wherever the dark side was.