My last visit to the optometrist entailed a mysterious sunburn / sun-ridden spot in my left eye. Slightly shy of shitty when you crave for the sun to blind you in happiness, reflect between your eyelashes, and even leave you staring straight into blindness-if not speechlessly helpless with that damn ball. I've never really been one to enjoy wearing shades, but I guess it's never too late to follow suit- with that spot- and the doc's orders.
It could have been left from the only time I've suffered from serially sunburnt eyes. A surreal episode after snowboarding in the Alps for 2 days, years ago when studying abroad in France. Rather young and clueless, when I returned to my dormitory after a weekend group trip to Meribel, even with the curtains drawn, I felt the pain of staring straight into the sun with tear ducts performing like the Amazon River. I had my goggles on my head- noting I like 180+ visibility and my peripherals, but whodathunk that in blinding white snow-capped mountains at extreme elevation the sun will reflect upon you- burn you a personal ozone spot - if not a visual vacay from the everyday.... in a bout of blindness.
YET 2 decades later, what DOES gets me out the door early on sunny days- and will make me pounce on any early Saturdays or Sunday morning / able to squeeze in a game- which really depends on the work load for the day. YET there is NO greater joy than letting the chicken outta the coop, no greater game than ours. AND admiring those EXTREMES of shadows and light.
Every fevered player craves a magical episode, but there SHOULD be ONE actual GIVEN day of SEVERE SUNSHINE EVERY WEEKEND spent THOROUGHLY INSPIRED on the pitch. Right? The one that makes your inner bird chirp, when you've been inspired by an overhead aquarium-like carpet with marshmallow cushions, and the good green earth (however fake it might be) cushions your game, and forces you to do a little happy dance...I'm now comparing leaving the field covered in that magical green turf dust to the bee I magically spotted this morning- completed covered in pollen...a striking resemblance no?
I spotted a Baller in Bedstuy...!!!
My father loved photography, and taught me to love it all the more. You do become an inevitably sentimental if not nostalgic person. The more unique episodes you have, you wonder if anyone else saw that. Will someone pinch me please? You seek that golden moment - cherish "just having a moment"- though you wonder if anyone else saw / experienced the same. In a photo- or somewhere on the greens- tiptoeing thru it.
The visuals- truly inspire. Yet that anxiousness you feel rushing to the field to find a super rando cast of characters- ranging from the youngest to the oldest of often familiar faces- wearing their badges and proud OG jerseys somehow feeds you in a chuckle. When you're so desperate for a game, lest you go crazy- and fevered with that fuel for a pickup dance. It's sort of the luck of the draw-if you find that friendly conversational rondo of cheers to the umpteenth power, that is what gets that passion gurgling...at 100*C or 212*F...
Lately playing again and photographing less, and being a shadow in absentia (experiencing less outdoor hours in the light of day), I definitely don't get to play as much as I'd like, but still looking to find a balance. 3-4x a week is solid start, but I miss the daily dose and find myself trying NOT to rubberneck across the park- to see whose playing and check weather and field conditions when heading into work - from the other side of the park. Grrr...
We're aspiring to create grandiose patterns as players, if not feeling the need for those. YET from a photographer / bystander / coach's perspective, that's the inevitable intrigue of simply observing the game- objectively more black and white.
I've been sizing up the new verdant greens @ McCarren Park while playing. So WHAT IF it's 100% fake! When... the sun kisses those greens at the perfect angle, i'm giddily wanting to dance upon the velvet moss - and noting how it calls to me in a go-go gadget itch to play... night and day.... AND to acknowledge, I'm but only one of many... who come out in droves- inspired by those rare moments when the light is "just right"...
Every spring I look back- recapping the previous season's call to madness- noting the threshold for playing in sour wintry conditions, the cabin fevered desperation that drives us to take the game indoors. We shoveled how many inches? My tolerance for cold, snow, rain was WHAT? Those moments mark the years...we weather the pain-and fuel our fervor....when we can!
I spent winter contemplating... the secret to maintaining a greener yard. And playing more...even though I wasn't the most successful while out on injury. But now with SUMMER in full bloom, we're all exploding at the seams... and trying to re-stitch our mantra with the game...
Count thy blessings, and chant positive juju- to welcome those greater goals of durability, melting in the sun- drenched if not swimming in perspiration. So stoked to say sayonara to the cursed freeze of wintry extremes, and funneling that energy into admiring the light and those shadows with fiercer eyes, noting we've sloughed our winter layers of clothing and stepped forward into the LIGHT- drawn by that all too familiar smell of skin and sweat...working on our birthday suit tans and toasting our toes!
"Sleep on tight, 'til the sunlight burns you happy 'Til the sunlight burns you happy, 'til the sunlight burns a happy hole in Your heart"...
Comments