Using violence, exercise masochism and shoddy footwear to shake off the stress of my move.
By Hannah Wallace
A relatively short note this week—I’m still in the midst of moving madness, and I just don’t have the energy to concentrate on anything else. Unless you’d like to read about where I think my autographed Sam Neill headshot should go.
So stress relief is a big must right now. We haven’t even put away half our stuff, and CCB and I are already adding to it. We’ve been on a boxing kick of late and invested in all manner of accessories, including a heavy bag, speed bag and combo stand—and let me tell you, by the time you’re done assembling the stand, you sure do want to punch the crap out of something.
We also had our first indoor soccer game Thursday night at the new Big Kick facility (www.bigkickindoorsoccer.com) off Whitfield. It’s been over a decade since I last played indoor and two years since I last kicked around—in fact, I haven’t done much soccer at all since a chaotic coed pickup game in Lakewood Ranch led to knee surgery and a year-long recovery and rehab in 2003-04. So this is going to be…interesting.
Big Kick was recently opened by a 20-something Bradenton native named…Braden. His mother called me here at the office a while back to pitch his soccer experience (he’s been employed by a few MLS teams), which led to this in-demand entrepreneurial project (there are no other indoor soccer venues in the area). I told her I wasn’t sure about the story potential, but hey, I’m interested. It’s fun to take work information and use it to your personal advantage.
And what the heck, I’m blogging about it, so she got the PR she wanted.
Turns out, with my 12-year-old Sambas (indoor soccer shoes—a wardrobe requisite for high school soccer players, especially back in the 90s), Thursday night’s game wasn’t too different from ice hockey. In indoor soccer shoes. Yeah, 12-year-old rubber doesn’t provide the soundest footing, especially on brand new, high-quality artificial turf. I (and surely my teammates) hope better footwear will lead to less slapstick soccer on my part.
As for the weekend, Asolo Rep executive Mrs. Harrible and Coach Mr. Harrible are taking fellow hockey teammates Lefty and Captain Beerslinger (I do love me some nicknames) to see The Play’s the Thing tonight (Dad’s in that and I haven’t seen it yet; I’m such a good kid). CCB and I have tickets to Speed the Plow (I also love me some Mamet). So put aside all your stereotypes about uncultured, unintelligent athletes—it’s going to be a very hockey night at the theater. Followed, of course, by beer.