Sweaty Jock-strap God and the Drama Queen Queer

Ch. 1—of soccer and finding the inner tree self


Soccer practice was exceptionally long and tiring today. The blistering, red-hot scorching sun wasn't a benefit either. The grass was baked hay yellow, and the un-fertilized soil was left clumped in anthills all over the field. One of the worst days of summer, and we had soccer practice.

I waited in mid-field for one of the defenders to kick it to me. A white and black ball spiraled towards me at just the precise moment and I raised my knee to trap it. The ball bounced and landed perfectly, ready for me to score. Dribbling the ball, my feet working in a mechanical rhythm down the length of the field, a straight zoom towards the goal.

I heard shrill cheering from the benches, where some of the girls like to hang out and check out the sweaty guys. I grinned when I heard one of the girls, with a high pitched shriek call out "Whoo, Go Matt! You look hot!"

Grinning, I took a quick break to turn 180 degrees and facing the group of personal cheerleaders, I blew them a kiss. Concentrating my attention on my fancy footwork again, I tuned out the loud giggling and kicked the ball, as hard as I could, into the net. I heard my cleats connect with the ball, making a thumping sound and was awarded with the swishing of the ball hitting the net and the shrill whistle that indicated a point was made.

Running backwards, I raised both my arms in victory, my fists pumping the air. I could be so cocky sometimes.

"Nice work, amigo," one of the soccer players said, patting my back and flashing me a toothy grin, his olive skin and curly hair shadowed in the sun rays. He had the classic Italian look with the broad, round face and mischievous black eyes.

"It's all in the feet baby," I teased laughingly, shrugging my shoulders. Trading places with the sub, I slumped onto the bench and took a swig of water.

I heard loud talking from the more shaded area of the park, somewhere within the park's miniature forest. Three teenagers walked out, one of whom I recognized from my school, a drama class kind of guy. He wore a pink, striped button-up and molded to his hips were dark-blue jeans. His curly black hair was partially covered by a black beret and on his skinny, pale, and lightly freckled arm adorned many orange, blue, purple and black beaded bracelets and black jelly bracelets.

His eyes seemed outlined in black eyeliner and were an intense gray. The three people, him with his two other friends, a guy and a girl were laughing and joking pretty loud, disrupting our game. I heard the coach swear colourfully in a few different languages, but continued on with the game.

It seemed realizing their mistake, they automatically settled down on the top step of the benches and talked in more hushed tones. The gray-eyed boy kept glancing down, somewhere between where I was sitting and where the group of girls was sitting, to the very far right. I wasn't quite sure because his eyes seemed unfocused. Quickly, his head swiveled back to the conversation that his friends were involved in and I heard a soft chuckle erupt from his ruby lips.

I guess my mind was really out of it, because I just spent at least 15 minutes staring at this oddly dressed character, in what, dear readers, I could only describe as thoughtful fascination. I say this because after some time his back had tensed and his posture became awkwardly straight. His neck twitched jerkily, as if trying to catch a glimpse of who was staring at him.

Coach was the only one successful in snapping me from my trance with his horrible whistle, glinting maliciously in the sun. The beads of sweat upon my tanned skin had not yet evaporated when again I'm called up for another round game.


I think I may be crazy, to consider even wearing heavy, heavy, heavy DARK jeans in this sweltering hot day. My one and only conclusion, brought up, as I would assume from my building paranoia, is that the weather god holds a deep loathing for me. I'd think it's because just the day before I wished and prayed and hoped for rain; not the soft drizzling type, but the full, blasting from the skies, pattering droplets of wintry cold rain. A side of lightning and black-out would be pretty damn cool as well.

My friends, Therese and Fillip, and I had a plan of hiding among the shadows of the tree. Somewhere in one of Therese's astronomy magazines or one of her tree-huggers 400-700 page books said that if a person spends at least two days living among trees, they might hear the tree's lingo. It's a load of bullshit if you ask me, but really does it stop her from dragging Flip and I on her expedition? NOOO

Flip was the one gracious enough to tell her that technically, the little spattering of trees in our little park doesn't count as a full-fledged, officially licensed, little red-riding-hood gets lost kind of woods. She was pretty upset after that, wouldn't talk to Flip for at least 2 hours. Of course, being the wonderful friends we are, Flip and I stayed with her…for at least 4 hours before finding the smell of pine trees, dung, and rodent piss a little too overwhelming. Besides, the cheering on the other side, in the field where a soccer game was taking place intrigued me.

Totally NOT taking advantage of our one chance to tease Therese on her gullibility and dependence upon her tree-huggers magazines, we laughed and scolded her for the full time it took to get out of the maze they call a forest. For such a small area of land, it was sure confusing to get out of.

Upon clear view of the soccer game and pausing so our eyes could get accustomed to the sharp stab of bright rays hitting our retinas, we continued joking around until we realized that we were heading right into the field.

Only when I heard the obvious grumbling of the coach and the several gut-squirming, icy glares from the girl cheer squad on the benches did we understand and stop talking. I mean, Jesus, these people were serious about soccer. It's a game of kicking a ball back and forth people!

Fixing my pretty little beret I bought just last week for only ten bucks, on sale, at a flea market, I climbed up onto the benches with my friends and watched the game, or rather….watched the cute soccer dude sitting off on the single bench, gulping down a cup of water.

Smiling secretly, I used my famous, stalker-watching method and out of the corner of my eye watched his every move. Now, the stalker-watching method takes a really long time to master. You pretty much have to think like a horse, you know horses with their crazy look-in-two-directions kind of stare. That was what I was doing, so it looked like I was mesmerized by the wooden boards of the stands rather than by him.

Now this guy was hot and oozing masculinity, or in simpler terms, he's probably straight. He had soft blonde hair that was fluffy and low-lighted (is that what it is?) with dark red. I've seen him around school before, and for the record, many people think he's one fine guy of hot-ness. Right now, his hair was plastered to his forehead and his tanned skin was beaded with sweat.

Chiseled cheekbones glistened in the light and his deep set navy blue eyes seemed to be….staring right back at me. Blushing hotly, I jerkily turned back around. I was a flaming tomato. He must have thought I was really weird.

I tuned back into the conversation to catch Therese swoon over one of the soccer players. "He's got such nice biceps. I bet he could lift a red wood cedar tree without breaking sweat," she was saying dreamily, her eyes following the every move of a buff 6 foot guy with wavy brown hair and a wide jaw-line. I chuckled. The whole tree-obsession was getting too much.

Catching Flip's own amused gaze we both burst out laughing. "I bet he could lift a red wood cedar tree," Flip mimicked in a falsetto voice, his hand flipping in a valley-girl impersonation.

"I know you're still a little bitter about having spent 4 hours in the forest but—" Therese started in her psychiatrist voice before I interrupted her.

"No, we absolutely adored sitting around in a circle eating pine-cones and dandelions. When that over-sized dog fucking tried to attack me, why, I was jumping with glee," I said sarcastically and Flip cackled alongside. Even Therese tried to hold back a smile.

"Yeah, that dog really had it in for you, didn't it?" Therese answered back thoughtfully.

I grinned, trying my best to scowl at her. The three of us burst out laughing again. I glanced back to catch a glimpse of the golden haired, beautiful, sweaty, soccer-playing god before turning with my friends and walking away. I really needed to rinse the pine-cone taste out of my mouth.