Last month we participated in a couple of 3-on-3 soccer tournaments in the middle of Illinois. Back-to-back weekends saw the senior circuit (yours truly and some friends) and the youth team (daughter and friends) lace ’em up and hit the severely drought-depleted pitch.
For me it was a chance to play, in a semi-organized fashion, this sport I’ve become so enamored with. For the kids it was a new take on the kind of soccer they’ve been learning the last few years. We were playing the standard 3-on-3 rules: small goals, no keeper, playing pitch a bit bigger than full-court basketball.
Our team, sporting the green Skibereen shirts (local Celtic/Irish band, whose bass player is a friend and teammate), were certainly the best-dressed and oldest team. We found ourselves in the men’s open division, and since they didn’t have quite enough teams to split between a Rec League and Competitive Division, we found ourselves severely outclassed in one match. That one featured a couple of former college players and some high school kids with skills. Continue reading