Doop (#112)

Saying that sports aren’t my thing is a huge understatement. Despite my mom’s best efforts and my participation on every sports team imaginable growing up, the athlete gene I was supposed to get never kicked in. Which is a shame because there were so many parts I loved about playing sports. I loved being on a team and hanging out with my friends during the week. I loved making up cheers, and dance moves to go with those cheers. I loved eating orange slices at half-time and going to Nifty Fifty’s when we won a big game. I loved overnight tournaments and causing mayhem in hotels. Basically, I loved every aspects of sports except for the athletic parts, the actual playing of the games.

Surprisingly though, I absolutely love going to watch other people play sports. I love the vibe of being in a stadium or even a school gym and how hype everyone gets when our team scores. I’m also always impressed when people can do things so effortlessly that are actually impossible for me to do. So naturally a couple months ago when Chris won four free tickets to the Philadelphia Union, I was ready. Professional soccer hasn’t really had its moment yet in Philly, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. The only pro soccer game I’ve been to before was in Rome, which was outrageous and aggressive and amazing. I was worried that this game would be a let down after that, but it turned out to be so much fun.

It was so great actually that we went back a couple weeks later, and today we went back for our third game, and the last of the season. And even thought Chris’s friend Brett bought tickets in the wrong section AND made us walk around in Chester instead of patiently waiting for the Lyft driver to pick us up AND consistently got us the most ridiculous drivers to take us home, I think I’ve officially become a soccer fan. Any team who’s main cheer involves shouting an absurd word like “doop” over and over again is a team I want to support. And who knew screaming at the refs was just as fun when you have no idea what the rules are? Plus, not knowing any of the players names means you can give them nicknames that are probably better than their real names anyway (Looking at you, White Lightning).  I have a feeling that by the end of next season we will be as obsessed as the middle-aged men behind us with season tickets complaining that #8 is having a bad day.

Stay tuned to see where Christina the Athlete will pop up next!!

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