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We're 1-2

On Sunday, my soccer team had a good practice. Instead of just scrimmaging, we worked on defensive drills, practicing bringing the ball out and working together to push attackers to the outside. It was good. I felt like we all learned something. At the end of the practice, I said, "I think we're going to have a great game tomorrow."

Um, no.

Last night we lost 11-0. I went back through my blog entries, and our worst loss last summer was by two points, which happened only twice (we were 7-2-2 that season). The other team beat us in every way they could beat us -- they beat us to the ball and to the net; they beat us on offense, in the midfield, and on defense. We spent the entire game backed up on our heels. It wasn't our goalkeeper's fault -- he played well. It was that we let shot after shot through.

After the game, I had conflicting feelings. Part of me lay on the grass, looked up at the sky, and calmly thought, "Well, this is going to happen every so often. Maybe it's a good thing. And besides, there's nothing I can do about it now, so I just need to accept it and come out and have a fun game on Wednesday." But another part of me was angry with myself for the mistakes I made, and couldn't think about anything but getting back out on the field and playing better and harder and winning hugely.

Now? I'm not exactly calm about it, but I'm not exactly angry, either. Calmly angry? Angrily calm? I'm not sure.

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