I was not the star kid on my soccer team. Shocker, I know, considering the size of my thighs (Schwarzenegger-ish) and the way I strut around like Team Captain, doling out nonstop direction: “Pass the ball! Take the shot! Put your dish in the dishwasher!”
Still, once a week you’ll find me running around a real soccer field with a group of real “soccer moms,” burning off bad carb choices and the incessant demands of spawn and spouses. To see me in my pickup league, blasting shots past the goalie’s face with a force that makes her eyelash extensions flinch, you’d never know that back in my travel team days, I sometimes spent half the game on the bench.
You might know that I just wrote some soccer commercials. There’s one playing on your YouTube right now with Team USA captain Alex Morgan that is all about cheering. What follows is the short yet still-convoluted story of how that commercial came to be.
Still, once a week you’ll find me running around a real soccer field with a group of real “soccer moms,” burning off bad carb choices and the incessant demands of spawn and spouses. To see me in my pickup league, blasting shots past the goalie’s face with a force that makes her eyelash extensions flinch, you’d never know that back in my travel team days, I sometimes spent half the game on the bench.
You might know that I just wrote some soccer commercials. There’s one playing on your YouTube right now with Team USA captain Alex Morgan that is all about cheering. What follows is the short yet still-convoluted story of how that commercial came to be.
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