Last night was the first game of the summer soccer season for Q. It didn’t seem much like summer last night, it in the forties with a nasty wind blowing on the spectators backs. Lot’s of people were under-dressed for it. You know what they say about Minnesota, “Bring warm clothes!”

It was also her teams first game since being winning their division last year and being promoted to the next higher division. And their first game with five or six new players. Their opponent scored the most goals in the league the year before, although they finished third. A group of them jogged past me while they were warming up, they looked very athletic. We had ten shut-outs last year. Q played almost every minute at right outside defender last year. She has an excellent knack for stepping in at the perfect time and one-touching the ball thirty yards downfield.

The first half seemed fairly even, although the opponents scored two goals. When it became apparent that the other team wanted to move the ball up the middle of the field instead of up the line, the coach moved Q into the middle. A compliment, I think.

At the beginning of the second half, Q cramped up in both calves. She was unable to play the rest of the game. I was on the far side of the field and didn’t realize what was going on. I couldn’t figure out why she didn’t go back in. I didn’t realize what was going on until she came off the field sobbing from pain and disappointment. In the mean time we gave up four more goals and it ended up 6-0. Although in the second half, we appeared to be tired and the other team was much quicker to the ball, I don’t think the score was indicative of the relative strengths of the team. They will be surprised the next time they play us.

Another reason I missed the drama in the second half was that I was on the cel, talking to my high school girlfriend. Totally wierd. Last week she’d been cleaning out some drawers in her home in Bellvue Washington and found something nostalgia that prompted her to email me at work. We’ve been exchanging emails since then and trying to hook up on the phone. She still sounds 16. She’s still the sweetest thing. She and her husband have been wildly successful, they started a company doing trade show displays and expanded into “retail theater.” They designed the interiors all the early Starbucks. They did the Nintendo department at FAO Schwartz in New York. Remember Cheryl Crow’s concert in Central Park? They designed and built the stage. Her title is Supreme Commander.

It’s so bizarre talking to her. She’s forgiven me, but when I referenced how bad I felt about the way I treated her, she seemed to get the idea that I was wallowing in guilt. I had to convince her that I was just stating facts, that I wasn’t feeling guilty (shit this was 35 years ago!) and that I’m a fairly happy guy. I told that to my wife and she gave me a funny look and said, “You are?”

I try.