Last July, I was sitting at my desk during my lunch break when I came across a headline: “Meet the members of Toronto walking soccer club, Toronto’s first walking soccer club.” I was intrigued. I clicked and learned that walking soccer is just like regular soccer, only the teams are smaller and the players always need to have one foot on the ground. Most players are in their 40s or older.
I haven’t touched a soccer ball since I was a child—but, at 42, I was looking for opportunities to exercise more and meet new people. At the time, I was grieving the end of a long-term relationship, and the severe persistent depressive disorder I’d been managing for two decades had flared up. I was taking Prozac and a million other pills, but I couldn’t shake the aching sadness. I especially missed seeing my ex’s eleven-year-old son, whom I had co-parented and watched grow up.
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Toronto walking soccer club
Anyone could join Toronto’s walking soccer club—the Toronto Loons—so I showed up to Cherry Beach Sports Fields early on a Saturday morning, around a week after I saw the article. I sat down on a bench, clutching the black and red shirts I had been instructed to bring.
Just as I began to feel awkward sitting alone, people started filtering in. When the first person came up to introduce himself, I began to relax, but after all 30 people had come up and introduced themselves, I found it bizarre—and utterly wonderful. Not a single person started putting their cleats on without first welcoming me to the group. When they found out it was my first time playing, they were quick to add, “Take it easy!”
Ten minutes into practice, I was smitten. There were many times when I kicked at the ball and missed. I sucked. But everyone on the field was incredibly encouraging. I received so many compliments that I almost felt embarrassed. By the end of practice, I already felt like I was part of the team.
I’m not going to lie: power-walking up and down the field can look a bit ridiculous, and I felt silly at first. But we laugh at ourselves and have a great time. Our team has a three-touch rule, meaning that a player cannot touch the ball more than three times consecutively. Some of my teammates are former competitive athletes who could probably take the ball all the way up the field and score single-handedly if they wanted to, but they never do that: instead, they pass the ball to me—someone who basically never scores—so that I can have a turn. And when I do get the odd shot in, the whole game stops and everyone cheers and high-fives.
In the past, there had been times when my depression kept me in bed all weekend. But, after joining the Toronto Loons that summer, I started bounding out of bed at 7:30 a.m. on Saturdays and racing to the field for practice.
The sense of community is one of the most fulfilling things I’ve ever experienced. If I miss a practice because I’m injured or travelling, my teammates will text me to ask if I’m okay, and I do the same for them. I love that it’s an older crowd—most of the participants are between 55 and 70. One of our players, Malcolm, just turned 85 and rides his bike to every single practice. My teammates give me wonderful life advice, like reminding me to enjoy each moment as it comes and reassuring me that most problems will be resolved by time…..
CONTINUE READING at source: https://torontolife.com/memoir/walking-soccer-memoir/
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