I need to learn Spanish. Have to. There’s such a huge part of our society that speaks Spanish, we’re missing something by not being able chew the fat.
At least my French will come in handy in Perpignan…
Anyway, I was thinking about language when I stumbled onto this immigrant soccer league outside of Sarasota. Chip spotted them playing while on our drive back from the Redneck Games. And during the “magic light.” (Chip was orgasmic…) We don’t really have magic light here in Oregon, but I have noticed more interesting evening light here in Portland vs. Eugene.
Chip and Rob endulged my curiosity to squeeze a frame or two, despite our long day in the car. Rob even showed off by using his Spanish.
Aside from English, French, some Bosnian, German used on Hogan Heroes and enough Spanish to order food at a taqueria, I’m left to body languange and lots of smiling. I think people take pity on me. (thankfully)
I focused on the goalie, in large part because I forgot my long zoom in the car. He chased after a soccer ball, but didn’t come back for some time. Turns out, the swamp claimed another victim. And the game was over just like that.
Something that Bruce and I focused on with Sidelines was sports life outside of the action. It’s often what’s most interesting and story-telling.
While we don’t have swamps in Oregon, I’ve seen many games end when the ball lands softly on the rooftop. Or in the cranky neighbor’s yard.
Not sure how well I took advantage of Chip’s Magic Light (**), but I did what I could before the sun set on this Florida soccer match…
(**oops, I misquoted Chip. “Money light, baby. Money light.”)