Kicking and Screaming [Joints]: How a Weekly Beer League Heals Burnout from a Former soccer player

For 75% of the year, I spend my Wednesday evenings at Swope Soccer Village competing for a one-night-only coupon for free Charlie Hoopers pitchers. Yes, that means your reward for midweek cardio chaos at 9 p.m. is to take your sweat-soaked sports bra down the street to Brookside for some grade-A Miller Lite. And I 100% recommend it.

Like many, I moved back to Kansas City after college as an adult, and I experienced the isolation of pandemic distancing big-time in 2020. Originally, I signed up for an indoor co-ed winter league at APEX in Independence back when they were known as EPIC Sports Lodge. I agonized over signing up.

"What if you're not actually that good?" I typed in my name and address.

"What if you don't make any friends?" I clicked the option to sign up as a free agent.

"What if you get hurt again?" I hit submit.

I remember showing up to my first game on Sunday afternoon, the daylight streaming through the glass garage doors of the giant metal warehouse that is The Lodge. I was late, partially because I hadn't been there in years and partially because I debated not showing up and eating the cost of the league. I came running in and ended up scurrying across the adjacent volleyball courts to climb my way behind the walls of the turf field in toward the bench. This team was young - they communicated about game times via Snapchat. I had never felt more like a Millennial than when I re-downloaded the app and wondered why they didn't use GroupMe or Facebook Messenger.

I laced up my cleats - the same pair I bought in my last season of college club ball - and smiled at new faces while I stood in line to go on and attempted to memorize names. Everyone was friendly enough, but there was a game in progress. I was relieved. I stepped onto the green plastic nettles and high-fived my predocessor as I jogged back out onto the field for the first time in years. That's all she wrote.

I showed up every Sunday and signed up for every session. When my ragtag youthful group began to need more and more subs to get to each game and the team fell away, it was time to sign up as a free agent again. The next team used Facebook Messenger to communicate so I knew I was among friends. They called themselves "Trash" and one session I designed a t-shirt.

It's giving Oscar the grouch with the green, and I live. Showing up became easier, and session after session, we all signed up again.

"What if you get hurt again?" Was I worried about my ACL? About the politics of it all? That someone would see the gloves in my bag and recognize me from my goalkeeping days, and I'd have to forfeit my spot at forward and midfield? That my coach's daughter mindset would limit me? That I'd get embarrassingly overly competitive?

Maybe I worried about all of that at first. But none of that happened. I found out that post-ACL surgery, I was a careful player, but I was a lot less competitive. And that was right for the league.

I didn't go 110% and throw my body out for the same 50/50 balls, and no one cared that I didn't. There wasn't a coach who was disappointed on the sidelines (though occasionally there was an agro teammate ready to get fired up or heave frustrated sighs). There was lighthearted heckling and occasional selfishness. I cared enough to play well and run hard, but not enough to tear a ligament again.

I even had a stint with a sprained ankle. I went down screaming from the pain and panicking about my recovery. Turns out, ACLs are a year of physical therapy and surgery, and a sprained ankle is a month in a boot with some over-the-counter meds. I didn't even realize how scarred I was from the high-level play and injury I experienced as a teenager until I started playing co-ed rec league.

I began coaching JV soccer at the high school. The varsity assistant coach created "Pathetico Madrid" for an outdoor spring league. Enter Swope Soccer Village Adult Beer League, where it's best in the spring and fall because all the college kids come home in the summer and run through the teams like a horde of cavalry descending on a lone Jon Snow - almost imminent death.

We came to the tradition that if we won, we'd of course use the coupons and go to Charlie Hoopers. But if we lost, we'd find ourselves at Waldo Corner Cocktail taking advantage of the half-off burger night special. Their kitchen stays open late. In case you're wondering how those seasons went, we spent most of our Wednesdays at Corner Cocktail.

I met folks, got phone numbers, followed Instagram profiles, shared beers, said hi to friendly faces around town, and spread oodles of oozes and ointments on various joints to keep them functioning long enough for each 25-minute half. Friendships can be built one hour at a time.

This weekend I'm headed on a Boston Bachelorette trip for one of the gals I met early on while playing at the Lodge. She doesn't play as much anymore, but I can thank myself for clicking submit that night years ago.

"What if you're not actually that good?" You are, and if you aren't, it doesn't matter.

"What if you don't make any friends?" Well, there's the soccer part of it to fall back on! But you will make friends.

"What if you get hurt again?" You're stronger than you know.