Yellow Cards, Red Cards, and Really Bad Acting Cards
I bought a subscription to something to watch the USA game against Bosnia/Herzegovina. Now I have to try and remember who I subscribed to so I can cancel it. It was the first full soccer game I’ve watched and it was good. I disagreed with some of the calls. That’s natural.
Here’s my main take away, though. Before all this, about the only thing I knew was that David Beckham played soccer. He was a good soccer player. The British royal family highly respected him as did all the UK. Good for them. Soccer wasn’t my thing, but it’s big in the UK so I could see why he was important to them. Other than that, I didn’t have any feelings one way or the other about him…until Queen Elizabeth died. He could have cut the line to view her. He probably could have asked for a private audience with the family and received it. He did none of that. He stood in line like a normal person for thirteen hours to pass by her and pay respects.
That’s when he earned my respect as a person. Well done, sir. Not that David Beckham or anyone else needs my respect, but I was impressed that he didn’t use his fame as a footballer or friend of the royal family to pull strings as many other politicians and celebrities did.
On a side note, I find it interesting that he grew up in a working class family. When teachers asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, he answered without hesitation, “A footballer.”
They laughed and urged him to think of something practical. He had a dream and made it happen. Good job.
After watching this USA game, and snippets of some other games, I have to respect the great athletic shape these men are in. You can’t take that away from them. They are remarkable. The USA game ran 100 minutes. It went overtime. I watched the game and have not a clue why it went over. Don’t hate me.
A sad update to this post I’m working on. USA lost tonight, but they went out with class and good game Belgium.
Anyway, I was impressed with how talented and athletic the players are. It’s plain there’s a lot of strategy that goes into some of this. I am but a mere mortal. I have no idea what it is aside from score, don’t let the other guy score, and fake an injury and hope the other team gets a penalty. I’m just sad that these obvious silly injuries are so much a part of the game.
This is a family friend, Steve Sanders, roping. He and his family are the real deal.
I’ve been at team ropings where someone gets a finger or thumb cut off when they dally their rope. Team roping is when two ropers come out of the roping box and a steer comes out of a chute with a head start. They ride hard to catch up. One ropes the head. One ropes the steer’s heels and they face their horses, keeping the ropes taut so the steer doesn’t get loose. When the cowboy gets their rope on, they wrap the loose end of their rope quickly around the saddle horn to keep the rope from whizzing through their fingers. Once in a while, they get a finger caught between the rope and saddle horn and something has to give. It’s the finger or thumb. The roper calls out he lost a finger. They stop the roping and people get out and start searching for the finger.
Invariably, someone calls out, “Found one. Think it’s yours?”
Everyone laughs. They rinse it off, put it in a glass of ice and off he goes to the hospital to have it reattached or not. They can’t always perform miracles.
My oldest son hung up to a bull once at a bullriding practice. That means his hand was stuck in the rope and he couldn’t get loose. the bull was spinning and stepped on him several times. He had a protective vest on, but it broke. He declined to go to the hospital. This was on a Wednesday night.
His roommate drove back to Odessa, TX with him, about thirty miles. He wanted to call me, but Brandon told him not to. I would be in church. He made him wait until he thought I’d be out of church. I rushed over. Brandon was not in good shape. His stomach was the color of an eggplant and he looked like he was five months pregnant. I wanted to call an ambulance.
He refused. “No, you drive me.”
I told his roommate to call the hospital and tell them to have surgeons waiting. We were coming in with a bad wreck. Explain to them what happened. Call the police and tell them which way I’d be going to the hospital and try to pick up an escort.
Brandon insisted on putting his boots on, so we helped him put them on. helped him to the car and laid the seat back as far as it would go. I put my emergency blinkers on and drove like a bat out of El Paso to get to town and the hospital. As luck would have it, there were no cops to be had. I slowed down at stop signs and stop lights, looked both ways and then blew through them.
He was going into shock when we got there, so they couldn’t take him straight into surgery. I was praying. Trying not to cry. Brandon told me, “If this doesn’t go my way, Mom, know that I’m good with God. I was doing what I love. Don’t hate rodeo. I love you.”
They wheeled him away, and I was pretty sure I would never see him alive again.
At the time, I had a prison ministry. I always carried a briefcase with me with letters from prisoners. Whenever I had to wait somewhere, I got out the letters, graded lessons, wrote a personal note to add to the group letter, slapped some funny stickers on the lesson folder, and slapped it into a return envelope. That was before prisons stopped letting you send stickers on mail. Anyway, I went out to the car and got my briefcase. I started grading, wrote a short note. “Please pray for my son.” Said another pray, claiming a healing scripture, and put it in a return envelope. Rinse and repeat. It kept me from going crazy.
The surgeon said it would be about an hour and a half. A nurse came out after two hours. He was still in surgery. He was stable. They had two surgical teams working on him.
I have a two minute rule about disasters. I went into the bathroom and cried for while. I didn’t time myself, but I didn’t allow myself to go on forever. I washed my face and went back out to the waiting room, said another prayer, and started grading lessons again.
She came out an hour later. Same process.
He was in surgery for four and a half hours. The bull had blown out the back wall of both intestines and much had to be removed and rebuilt. They weren’t even sure it would hold.
He did recover and went back to rodeo.
My son’s mantra.
I say all that to say this. I am at a loss as to why grown, gifted, athletic men lower themselves to these dramatics.
It’s so bad they make videos about them that rival written scripts. They acknowledge they do this. Now, I’m not saying it doesn’t happen in other sports. There are multi-millionaire basketball players who notice their team is losing and all of a sudden get a leg cramp and have to be carried off the court. “Oh, if only the King of the Court hadn’t been injured they would have won.” If the team rallies without the famous one, he’s miraculously cured. Must be the Blue Emu or was it Emo Oil? My dad swore by the stuff.
I’m not saying soccer players are the only ones to do it, but they seem to have taken things to another level.
Sport Surreal put together a pretty good compilation of these dives.
As I understand it, a foul is a trip, push, pull, or tackling another player illegally. If a ref deems it valid, they can award a yellow card. top Soccer blog explains it all here. It’s a warning, but it can set things up to get more serious down the road. Apparently, you can also get a yellow card for covering your mouth. I think the purpose is they think you’re saying something naughty to another player and hiding what you’re saying.
It can lead to a red card, which can get a player suspended. That’s the goal of the opposing team, especially if it’s a good player. This short video is a red cards for dummies break down.
I realize a lot of players do them. In my personal opinion, it cheapens the sport when you think you have to cheat to win. These soccer players are so talented, so amazing that I could easily get hooked on the game, but that aspect of it drives me insane.
Peach orchard boar insane.