Before we begin quick survey: I'm thinking about writing under my grandmother's maiden name, what do you think of me becoming Sonja Cori Sochayseng?
Anyway, a few weeks ago, I decided I wanted to learn how to bike. So a couple of weeks after that, accompanied by Jim and his Jeep, I went down to my local Gears and bought a bike. Now, I sort of knew how to bike as a kid, but whenever I am not immediately good at something, I refuse to ever do it again. So, when I wasn’t immediately the best biker in the world (due to, what I am sure is, an inner ear problem), I quit and didn’t bother again.
This may also explains why I don’t post to my blog very often.
Anyway, now that I'm older, I naturally assumed that I would be, well, a natural. Therefore, I bought the bike, a helmet, a chain, and a bell (still in the market for lights and a basket; the basket is boss) and decided to become a biking pro. So, this evening, I went for my first solo bike ride and I did well! I mean, everyone who rode (much faster) past me was dressed for/acted as in the Tour de Lorne Park as I was on my pink bike with my hair in pigtail braids, but whatevs, I didn’t fall. And I only wobbled a few times. And, for the most part, biked on the road. And only got lost once.
Anyway, here’s a list of things I managed not to scream at as I peddled past:
- Fairly large SVUs
- Small children
- A bus
- Unidentifiable roadkill
- Kids playing street Frisbee with bad aim
- My high school, with Canadian geese gaggling all over campus (Note to American readers and other outsiders: Canadian geese, in real, up close, life, are terrifying)
- A topless man wielding a machete
- An inground sprinkle system turning on
- A stick that looked like a snake
- A low flying flock of birds, possibly bats
- The street I meant to turn down and missed
- Jim’s Jeep parked in his driveway, that would somehow manage to try and kill me even while parked
- A guy in a Juventus kit
This list is 100% true. When I told my father his was response was, “the bus could of squished you like a bug!” It’s that sort of encouragement that results in a 25 year old being proud for not screaming as much as she could have (note: I did not list the things I did scream at) on her first solo bike ride.
So what does this have to do with soccer? Nothing, geez. I was just trying to tell you about my evening, you jerk. Fine, we’ll just move on.
So, soccer. I was going to write a long piece about the Olympics and the Bronze Blunder, but I don’t feel like rehashing it. I will, however, bring up a few key points, that, if you run into me on Wednesday or Saturday at TFC, I would love to discuss further with you (maybe):
- This happens in soccer. It doesn’t make it less shitty, but it also doesn’t make it scandalous
- It’s easy to blame Christina Pedersen, but you should be examining the overlying structure. No matter how “experienced” she was on paper—like many other refs, both male and female, on the international level—in reality, she just plain wasn’t. Consider: You have this super power losing to a country most people don’t realize even have a soccer team; of course she’s going to be questioning if she’s making the right calls. Combine that with Wambach’s influence, the whole world watching, and needing to make split second decision, it’s not that much of a shock things went the way they did. Do not get me wrong, it sucked, hard, but just think twice where you jump to lay your blame. Yes, it was Pedersen’s job and yes, she did a shitty job, but what do you expect when she’s not given the correct tools and proper support? (Remember this when I do my next Missio for FIFA post soon!)
- Way to completely disprove my previous Olympic post on Canadian apathy, all of Canada
Long story, short? I was streaming the end of the Bronze game at work. When Matheson scored, I immediately screamed. And hugged (very confused, and somewhat frightened) co-workers. And blinked back tears. And never felt more Canadian in my life.
However, while the pridefor the Women’s National Team is still swelling inside me, it does not compare to the pain, and fear, and nausea, and dread, and hate, that is bubbling inside of me for the return of Udinese. Seriously, between Champions League (fuck you, Braga) and Serie A, I am going to start a pool of when I develop my first ulcer. Closest person to guess without going over wins a night of trying to comfort me in my emotional distraught-ness. I'll provide the popcorn!
And I wonder why I’m single.
But seriously friends, as soon as I get a sewing machine, and figure out how to work a sewing machine, I will construct this into one useable piece:
(the Frankenstein’s Monster of Udinese dresses)
Alè Udin and I will see you at BMO on Wednesday/Saturday.
Sonja Cori Sochayseng.
Post script: With no one snapping up Serie A rights for television yet, I may be forced to start taking the Bundesliga seriously. So, what better way to do that than this:
(yes, I take bathroom pictures. And yes, it's often)