Hoodling's Hall of Fame #1

Life–as we all know–sucks, but we all have those special memories that
makes our miserable reality bearable–the kind of memories that
lifts you up and slaps a smile on your face! The glorious highlights
when you tasted from the fruit of greatness and left the mundane in
your wake! These are your personal hall of fame memories–the
stories you incessantly recant in your drunken, nostalgic stupor,
driving your friends insane!

I’m a frequent visitor of my personal hall of fame. If I need a
quick pick-me-up, a stroll down memory lane can do wonders. Having
recently taken inventory of my greatest hits, I’ve come to realize
that I’m probably not the best person that ever lived. The
highlights of my life are usually stupid, violent, unlikely or a
fantastical combination of all of the above. I’ve been known to
crack myself up for no apparent reason to the outside observer, and
it’s usually about something really fucked up that I really
shouldn’t tell people about. So, naturally, here we are!

You know that feeling you get when you make a one-in-a-million
goal shot playing soccer? The crowd roars, your team mates hoist you
up in the air and carry you around like golden luggage, singing your
praise–all that. Well, that was somebody else! My personal hall of
fame goal shot was met with absolutely zero applause, a touch of
shock and horror, and just a hint of murder and mayhem, because I
can’t do anything normal.

With the exception of martial arts, I’ve never been a fan of
sports–ballgames least of all. I enjoyed playing, as a kid, but–to
this day–watching soccer games on TV bores me to tears! I don’t
get the appeal of watching grown men chasing balls on a lawn, and
I’ve never understood the pleasure fans derive from living
vicariously through the victories of “their” team. Is life really
this dull for you people? Clearly, I’m not a sports guy!

I was about seventeen years old at the time of this incident,
visiting my aunt way out in the country, and I got roped into playing
a game of soccer with my cousin and a bunch of his hillbilly friends.
We went to the local elementary school to use their shitty, gravel
soccer field. School was out for the day, so we had the field all to
ourselves.

In the middle of our game, I noticed a woman walking a toddler
down the road next to the field. I was at center midfield when
someone passed me the ball. The other team’s defense figured they
had me boxed in, so their idiot goalkeeper came running out to
midfield, leaving the goal wide open. I weaseled my way past them
with a mad dribble and lined the ball up for a solid power shot! Just
as I kicked the ball, the aforementioned toddler came running into
the field from behind the goal, right into the path of the ball!

As I mentioned, I wasn’t one for sports, but–unfortunately for
that little kid–I did a lot of martial arts, biking and weight
training. I only mention this so you’ll properly understand me when
I tell you that my legs were fucking powerful–and I put everything
I had into that shot! The ball traveled straight and hard from
midfield, past the eighteen yard line and smashed that poor child
square in the face! You should have seen this shit! His little,
toddler head snapped back like a broken twig as the ball bounced off
his exploding face and sent his lifeless body sailing backwards into
the goal! I’ll never forget that terrible, hollow sound it made…
or the silence that followed. You could hear people gulping from the
other end of the field.

The kid’s mom came running into the field in a fit of panic, and
all the country bumpkins started pointing at me. At that moment, I
thought for sure I was going to prison for murder! I saw my whole
life flashing before my eyes, and waved goodbye to all good things.
It was very dramatic.

A mere moment later, the kid drew breath and squealed like a pig!
“Phew!” The worst thing that could’ve happened at this point
was brain damage, and brain damaged people can still be productive
members of the janitorial service, right? This shit could have gone a
whole other way! Thankfully, the toddler survived, so this memory
gets to take it’s place among my greatest hits (pun intended)! This
is by far coolest damned thing I’ve achieved in my entire life! We
may have different priorities, though.

What happened next is entirely beyond my understanding. Almost
immediately after picking up her broken, bruised and bleeding
rag-doll of a child, mother-of-the-year starts tearing into the poor,
little, bastard! I was expecting her to attack me ferociously, with
teeth and fingernails, but she didn’t give a good goddamn about me,
she just kept yelling at her kid and shaking him, as if he didn’t
already have whiplash! “That’s what you get for playing with the
big kids,” she told him.

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, I was the first one to start
laughing. We could hear the kid squealing a mile down the road after
they walked off. I’ll never forget this bizarre incident. I crack
myself up every time I think about it. I’m probably a terrible
person, but who the hell cares?