It Would Only Happen to Me

Saturday evening, we were given tickets to join a bunch of Jeff's friends to watch the US Womens National Soccer Team play Mexico at Edward Jones Dome in St. Louis .

So picture it, over 10,000 loud & rowdy fans.

And who gets chosen for the half time contest.

Yep. Me.

That would've been fine if it had just been, say, a drawing to win a trip for two to Hawaii, or a big screen tv (as Jeff had hoped), or cable or satellite for a year (so we can throw out our rabbit ears antennae).

But it wasn't.

Report to gate 340's entrance to the field, they had said. So I did. Which was 1/2 way across the dome. I had to move fast & since it was half time, and everyone was out to get their nachos & go potty, I had no easy task.
When I finally make it to gate 340, I see the guy in charge, a young probably 20-year old fella wearing a headset. I join the two other contestants... an 8 yr old girl & a 15 yr old girl. Then the guy in charge explains to us that we're going to be going out on the field in front of everyone & kicking the ball, so that it rolls over & stops on one of the three jerseys they'll have laying in a circle.
Now I haven't played soccer in 20 years. And I'd never kicked a soccer ball on field turf.
That's not even the bad part.

Before we go out, he handed us each a shirt. "Put these on now & you can keep them." You think that would make me happy. But I noticed he looked very nervous when he handed me mine, like a panicked sort of look.
I didn't even look at the size, just noticed how hard it was to get my arms into. And I tugged, tugged, tugged to try to get it over my chest. It was so tight it was restricting my breathing, smashing my diaphragm. The shirt had no give, as it was almost completely covered with heat pressed letters, embroidery, the Nike symbol, etc. I stood there, just seconds before walking out on the field in front of 10,000 people, the words from Tommy Boy, 'Fat man in a little shirt', echoed in my head.
"Do you have any other sizes?" I asked the boy in charge.
He looked at me sympathetically & shook his head.

So off we head onto the field.
Had I not been in a shirt that was 2 sizes too small, I would've enjoyed the awesome experience. I quickly saw Jeff across the dome, as close as he could get, cell phone in hand, getting ready to take a picture. My name was up on the jumboTron. I couldn't believe this.

Why in the heck did I decide to do this? I should've just acted like my name wasn't called. Sure I would've had to resisted everyone's urging. But gees, this was so embarassing.

As we walked across the turf, there were actually people cheering. Or maybe they were laughing. I'm not sure.

I talked to the other girls. They were nervous. Both of them had been playing 1/2 their lives. This was nuts, I thought. I not only look like the Michelin tire guy, but I'll be the only one losing this contest.

Well, I wasn't the only one. It was actually pretty tough. None of us were able to get our balls to stop on a jersey.

All of that.
And they didn't give us one anyway.