UCSB and Wofford College

Carol and I have been going to UCSB soccer games. Turns out they have a pretty good team, not that I know anything about soccer. I kept yelling “good pass” when one is supposed to yell “good ball.” Lord knows why. I am still not sure what constitutes off sides.

We have been going to the games because a number of soccer players took Carol’s dance history class.

“The guys,” as we call them, live in the condo complex next to ours. We keep bumping into them. They are interesting people. Three are from Africa and the fourth guy is from L. A. His uncle drives all the way from LA to see his nephew play every game.

So they were doing really well in league play. The finished first in their conference and were ranked 4 in the nation.

Then…last Saturday night…as I sat there freezing my ass off…well, it was a really ugly game. One of UCSB’s coaches got red carded, as did a player, because the excessively sensitive referee did not like their language.  This annoyed me since after all it was soccer contest and not a clean mouth contest. So they lost the game, the conference title and an automatic berth in the NCAA tournament.

I was wearing gloves, a stocking cap, with my regular cap on top of that, a t-shirt, a long sleeve t-shirt, my Honea Path sweat shirt, and a thick jacket and I was still freezing my ass off.

Looks as if I will freeze my ass off one more time. UCSB got in the NCAA tournament anyway and will be playing Wofford College, which, can you believe it, is located as far as I can tell in Spartanburg, South Carolina. And Spartanburg is not that far from Honea Path, SC, where I got my Honea Path sweat shirt.

So I think I will wear my Honea Path sweat shirt as I watch guys from Spartanburg play against guys I know who come from Africa.

Talk about your small world. 

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