Laments of a Winger

Anika Seshadri

I always thought soccer was so simple, that all you had to know was how to run, kick, and a few skills to evade pressure. When I joined my new team, I realized this wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg, but rather a snowfake perched atop. For all I knew, I could have been playing badminton my whole life for the number of positional tactics I’ve had to learn. Thankfully, I have gotten better. According to my coach I have improved from “embarrassingly abominable” to “slightly terrible”. While I know that my coaches have extensive knowledge in the game and Ishould trust their expertise, a lot of the work seems impossible to match their titanic expectations. My coach goes absolutely ballistic over pinching in on the weak side so, after months of begging and pleading, I fnally decided to start paying attention to what he was saying. It was quite a rough beginning. For starters, soccer is a game that possesses a sense of fuidity to it. There are not as many stops, which does not fare well for me because of the extreme physical trauma that comes with playing winger. As I was learning positional play, these are (and I cannot stress this enough) realistic encounters between my coach and me. My coach: Pinch in! Pinch in! Ok. This seems easy enough. But, once the ball has moved inches away. My coach: What are you doing! You just told me to go there! My coach: Now go here! ... wait, no go back! Go back! GO BACK! Now, this doesn’t even include making decoy runs. When your team is attacking, wingers usually make decoy runs to either 1) draw defenders away from the ball or 2) did you think I was going to say “to get the ball”? I wish. In simple terms, a decoy run is an excru-

ciating sacrifce where wingers decide to stop playing soccer for 30 seconds and run a 100-meter sprint. That way, not only do the defenders cease to pay attention to the player on the ball but, begin to question their existence when they realize that they do in fact have to join you on the track in order to cover the ground they missed while they were fxing their ponytail. Also, at our age, the ball almost never gets switched to the other side. So, you are either 1) running to the point where your arteries might explode at any moment, and your feet are abounded from handling the ball 10 times a minute, leaving you to crawl of the feld a maladroit mess. Or 2) having the exact same outcome, except with the ball on the other side of the feld for half an hour. Overall, this tedious work is necessary in order to be in the right position to win the ball or receive a pass. After scampering around the feld your body is physically shutting down until your legs quiver and lungs are enveloped in fre. Your hard work is fnally rewarded by the opponent’s stray pass rolling to your feet, leaving only 4 words to be (secretly) said, “nevermind, take it back.” While soccer can leave you wanting to dig your own grave, the moments that prevent you from practicing make you realize why it’s worth it. Injury, of all those moments, is the absolute worst. All you can do is sit and watch as your teammates scamper around the feld while you have to sit on the bench with a wrap and an ice burn. Not only does your body refuse to comply and rehabilitate itself, but deceives you as well. You take your time and wait in repose until the pain is almost undetectable, but your body has other plans. In a span of seconds, you’ve either reinjured the same mangled appendage or better yet, the other one as well. Extending your vacation on the sidelines from 3 weeks to 2 months. However, after pining to play, your willingness and appreciation for the physical aspect of the game increase, making you not tolerate the sprints required, but rather enjoy them. That is, until you go back to making decoy runs.