Stripped of Masculinity

It was the kind of game that made you think: I'm 23 and getting paid to do this.

We'd won 4-3, but it had been an absolute nightmare. They were just too fast for us in the first half, I swear their left winger could have gone professional as a sprinter if he hadn't chosen football. He terrorized our right back with his pace and his skill. I'd watched him play before, he's one of those players who has this knack for making everything look effortless and graceful. He must be so frustrating to play against, his touch is so delicate that even though the defender wins the ball, it usually ends up at the feet of their striker or winger immediately after. His name is Rhys Davis and he's only 22 years old last time I checked. Amazing talent, a real star in the making and I hate him with all my being.

The second half was better, we had pretty much stopped them from scoring goals. But we couldn't score any either, they defended well and they were clinical when they got the ball downfield. I was relieved when the whistle blew, I don't know how many games I've seen them win by a single goal.

As always happened after a heavy game like this one, the showers were filled with participants who wanted to take a long shower to relax and wash off some of their stress. We always tried to keep things lighthearted in there and make fun of each other's performances on the pitch that day. Maybe it helped us recover from our mistakes on the field or maybe it did nothing at all, but it kept things fun and relaxed between us during pre-season training as well as during league games. And let's be honest here, life can be stressful enough without having someone else tell you what you should do or how you should improve your performance every second day of your life. So here we were - four naked men standing in front of each other under warm water pouring down from above them while joking around about our recent performance on the pitch.

"Hey Brownie", I said to him while toweling off my hair "I thought you said you didn't want anyone touching your balls today? What happened there?" My comment was greeted with groans from Rhys Davis and Scott Higgins who were standing next to me as well as laughs from Joe Burns who stood next to Brownie drying off his 6 feet frame covered in dark brown hair.

"Shut up man", Brownie replied "It was just a little grab". "Yeah sure", Rhys chimed in "that lasted more than ten seconds if you ask me". More laughter followed from everyone present while Brownie shrugged his shoulders and grinned apologetically at us all before throwing his wet towel over Rhys' head, which only resulted in another towel fight taking place within moments between everyone present. Luckily for me I never took part in these fights; my hair is almost white now thanks to all that bleaching it takes to keep it blond on top of my head and nobody wants to start fighting among themselves when one of their own gets knocked out cold because he got hit too hard on the head by mistake while trying to throw a towel over someone else's head while laughing hysterically due to all that adrenaline rushing through our bodies after such a close game that had decided our fate for the season yet again - we would have another chance next year!

* * *

When we had finished drying ourselves off and dressing again, we headed outside into the cool night air where our waiting cars waited for us on the sidelines of the pitch. The teams usually stayed together after games like these - win or lose they would go out drinking together afterwards until late into the night unless they had an early flight scheduled for them tomorrow morning which wasn't our case tonight thankfully so we could start celebrating this amazing win later tonight!

As we were walking towards our cars my eyes wandered over towards one of those fancy 4x4 premium vehicles parked just across from ours and then something strange caught my eye: Two pairs of legs in black pants standing near the driver's door looked awfully familiar... Suddenly I recognized who those people standing there were: It was Emilio Pena - one of my old friends who played for their team - and two other guys whose names escaped me right now; they certainly weren't from our team... As quickly as I had noticed them walking towards their car carrying what seemed like two unconscious people slung over their shoulders - hands tied behind their backs - my little group turned around instinctively without thinking about it and started running towards them with loud shouts aimed at making sure that Emilio would stop whatever he was doing right now...