I stutter-stepped, planted my left foot, and exploded past the 9-year-old defender to his right, and took the open shot. I hooked it hard and missed– at least the goal part. The ball did hit one of the dining room windows in the small combination house and hotel, shattering it into more pieces than I wanted to count. The game stopped, and we all stood, frozen in place as we tried to determine the next move. Our goalkeeper’s mother had been outside earlier, scolding the kids about being careful not to break anything. And so, I was prepared for her wrath, though I wasn’t sure whether I’d be lumped in with the other soccer players, since they were kids and I was probably older than her.
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