When I learned that the company Olympics this year were scheduled a month earlier than prior years, I was very happy. The earlier schedule meant I would still be around to participate. I really enjoy them, and I'm one of the few (if not the only) expat who participates in anything other than the golf event. The golf event is typically expats and government relations - the only people who can afford to play golf regularly (GovRel because that's where the government Ministers want to talk). This year I signed up for Futsal and Bowling.
The first game of Futsal was on a Tuesday night. I arrived early enough to warm up by running the field. I also typically need to burn off much of my adrenaline - I am still a competition junky. Four teams play two, twenty-minute halves. Teams 1 and 2 play their first half, then teams 3 and 4 play, then back to 1 and 2. I was glad my team was in the first group.
Futsal is a 5 on 5 game of soccer played on a field roughly the size of a basketball court. Teams typically field one goalie, two defensemen and two strikers. Ten years ago, I would have played striker. Now I'm too slow, but I can still pass and still defend, so I took the position of floating defender - the position that plays distributor on offense, but must also get back quickly on defense. It requires stamina and age hasn't taken that from me yet.
The first half of our first game was close, finishing 2-1 in our favor. After our break and some snacks, we took the field for the second half and scored once more to their nil. The other teams finished the night in a draw, so we finished Round 1 as the first place team. Our second game did not stay close for long. We jumped out to an early lead and the opposing team's only score occurred when our goalie and our other defender fell to the ground, the ball squirted out to the other team, and they kicked a shot that ricocheted off my stomach into the goal. The half finished 3-1; the game finished 7-1. Heading into the third and final round tomorrow night, the only chance we have of losing the gold medal is if we lose the game by more than five points.
The second event, bowling, was more eventful. I haven't bowled in nearly a year, and we were on new lanes, so I knew I'd be rusty. I arrived an hour early to warm up and determine how I was bowling that night. It's a good thing I did.
My first practice game I bowled a 72. I think that's the first time I've been under 100 in the last twenty years. My second practice game was an 85. I did not have high hopes for the evening, and I'm supposed to be my team's ringer! Two years ago, the last time I participated, I bowled the highest game in the competition with a 189 - respectable, but not near what you'd expect a first place finish to be in the US. I was ready to call it a night, but I knew everyone was counting on me. I tried five more practice frames, and finally started throwing strikes and 9-pin first balls. My groove was back.
In the first game of the competition, thanks to three spares and a turkey, I bowled a 169. Of the six lanes playing, no one in the other five lanes came within 30 points of my score. Unfortunately, I was in the high performer lane. One guy did not have a single open frame and finished with a 218, my primary competition from two years ago bowled a 183. The fourth person in my lane bowled a 132.
The second game saw all of us drop. I fell to 129, which I attribute to drinking a beer without having dinner, and the others were all below 180. In ten frames, with my first ball I threw seven 9's, two 8's, and one 7. I kept leaving the number 5 pin. I finished the night with the 4th highest game and third highest series. I think that wins me a trophy of some kind, but I don't know.
The highlight of the night, for everyone who witnessed it, was when I became frustrated warming up and declared that, on this throw, I was going to get a strike. Period. I took my place on the second dot from the left, with the dot underneath the ball of my right foot. Stepped forward with my right foot, then my left, then started my swing as I stepped forward with my right. As I brought my left foot forward for the final step, I unintentionally dragged my toe. This caused me to fall. My knees hit first, then my chest, then my face. My momentum actually carried my body forward enough that my feet lifted into the air and I was momentarily balancing on my face and chest. Somehow, I had the wherewithal to still throw the ball. And I got a strike.
The cheering and laughing was thunderous. I stood up, looked at the result, shrugged my shoulders and sat down.
If I wasn't already, I'm sure I am now the legendary: "Bule Gila" (Crazy Expat).
The first game of Futsal was on a Tuesday night. I arrived early enough to warm up by running the field. I also typically need to burn off much of my adrenaline - I am still a competition junky. Four teams play two, twenty-minute halves. Teams 1 and 2 play their first half, then teams 3 and 4 play, then back to 1 and 2. I was glad my team was in the first group.
Futsal is a 5 on 5 game of soccer played on a field roughly the size of a basketball court. Teams typically field one goalie, two defensemen and two strikers. Ten years ago, I would have played striker. Now I'm too slow, but I can still pass and still defend, so I took the position of floating defender - the position that plays distributor on offense, but must also get back quickly on defense. It requires stamina and age hasn't taken that from me yet.
The first half of our first game was close, finishing 2-1 in our favor. After our break and some snacks, we took the field for the second half and scored once more to their nil. The other teams finished the night in a draw, so we finished Round 1 as the first place team. Our second game did not stay close for long. We jumped out to an early lead and the opposing team's only score occurred when our goalie and our other defender fell to the ground, the ball squirted out to the other team, and they kicked a shot that ricocheted off my stomach into the goal. The half finished 3-1; the game finished 7-1. Heading into the third and final round tomorrow night, the only chance we have of losing the gold medal is if we lose the game by more than five points.
The second event, bowling, was more eventful. I haven't bowled in nearly a year, and we were on new lanes, so I knew I'd be rusty. I arrived an hour early to warm up and determine how I was bowling that night. It's a good thing I did.
My first practice game I bowled a 72. I think that's the first time I've been under 100 in the last twenty years. My second practice game was an 85. I did not have high hopes for the evening, and I'm supposed to be my team's ringer! Two years ago, the last time I participated, I bowled the highest game in the competition with a 189 - respectable, but not near what you'd expect a first place finish to be in the US. I was ready to call it a night, but I knew everyone was counting on me. I tried five more practice frames, and finally started throwing strikes and 9-pin first balls. My groove was back.
In the first game of the competition, thanks to three spares and a turkey, I bowled a 169. Of the six lanes playing, no one in the other five lanes came within 30 points of my score. Unfortunately, I was in the high performer lane. One guy did not have a single open frame and finished with a 218, my primary competition from two years ago bowled a 183. The fourth person in my lane bowled a 132.
The second game saw all of us drop. I fell to 129, which I attribute to drinking a beer without having dinner, and the others were all below 180. In ten frames, with my first ball I threw seven 9's, two 8's, and one 7. I kept leaving the number 5 pin. I finished the night with the 4th highest game and third highest series. I think that wins me a trophy of some kind, but I don't know.
The highlight of the night, for everyone who witnessed it, was when I became frustrated warming up and declared that, on this throw, I was going to get a strike. Period. I took my place on the second dot from the left, with the dot underneath the ball of my right foot. Stepped forward with my right foot, then my left, then started my swing as I stepped forward with my right. As I brought my left foot forward for the final step, I unintentionally dragged my toe. This caused me to fall. My knees hit first, then my chest, then my face. My momentum actually carried my body forward enough that my feet lifted into the air and I was momentarily balancing on my face and chest. Somehow, I had the wherewithal to still throw the ball. And I got a strike.
The cheering and laughing was thunderous. I stood up, looked at the result, shrugged my shoulders and sat down.
If I wasn't already, I'm sure I am now the legendary: "Bule Gila" (Crazy Expat).
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