Biggie Shorties Defeat Urban Achievers 5-4

After a smashing success in our debut match, the Biggie Shorties hit the field to see if we could manage an encore.  The answer, in the key of 5-4, was HYFR (an acronym that unfortunately got glossed over in favor of YOLO).  And just because it’s a great moment caught on film, let’s go to baby Drizzy putting in some work on the dance floor at his Bar Mitzvah.

drake bar mitzvah

He got that fro from both sides of the family.

Right away, your girls (and a few dudes) came out and dominated, passing in perfect rhythm and creating opportunities by spreading the field like that red plastic stick in your Handi Snacks.  It was too easy.


This week, we tried our authentic neon watermelon jerseys, which are roughly the same shade of screaming red that my face turned when teammate Alex Bustamante asked “Girl, who you fuckin’?”  But on the real?  They’re the illest jerseys I’ve ever seen.

Marissa McBride, whose name you should remember from every other soccer write-up I ever create, had another day.  Within the first two minutes of the game, she cocked back the four-pound bar and fired off a bullet that had no chance of stopping unless that ugly guy in the “Freak On A Leash” video verbally intimidated it.


Only a few moments later, a pair of quick, skinny legs carved up the sideline, carrying the ball. Who, you ask, is this elegant sprite? Why, Rachel Cohen of course. And you might remember her from when she added a notch to your far post and didn’t even call afterwards. Two nothing, nerrrrrds.

The Biggie Shorties defense continued to hold it down, and anchoring the schooner was your old pal Hannah Farda, keeper extraordinaire. She hung back and directed the defense, so the Urban Achievers never even had a chance to achieve.  Sounds eerily similar to real life, but socio-economic jokes are such a downer, right?

The onslaught continued when Zach Straus won a ball in the defensive third. Taking two quick touches, he broke down the Urban Achievers’ defense like it was a useless cardboard box. Marissa slid into the slot to receive a pass and quickly put the ball away for a clutch finish, and the Biggie Shorties went up 3-0.

The Biggie Shorties completely dominated the first half, maintaining possession for what must have been 80%.  It was silly.  Your rec coach was definitely impressed.

But the second half brought a literal and figurative change in weather. The rain started to fall, casually at first, but then faster and furiouser.  And holy balls, did it rain.  Like the corniest Backstreet Boys video, including the gratuitous spin moves and deep v-necks.  There was no escape, no hiding, no taking cover.  To be on that field was to be completely soaking wet.


And that’s when our comfortable lead quickly melted away like the Wicked Witches we are.

The Urban Achievers opened up the half with one of those tricky little diddies where they advance the ball and then just fire away.  And, much to our heel-sitting chagrin, it worked.  We still held a 3-1 lead, but it was a toddler’s punch to the stomach.  GOO.

But don’t worry, because Tamira Guevara decided it was time to score.  She staked her ground at midfield and issued a rebuttal that would have made trial lawyers nervous, putting the Biggie Shorties back up to a 3-goal lead.

And then those pesky Urban Achievers scored again, making the rainstorm a secondary concern.  Apparently, they are the kind of team that shows up late to your party, when you’re already throwing away the abandoned Solo cups and putting the leftovers in the fridge.  Pretty friggin annoying.

Tamira, who is apparently a goal-whisperer, had enough.  So when she received a pass from Cara, she looked down and commanded it to find the back of the net.  And it listened.  So the Biggie Shorties edged up again, 5-3.

But those Urban Achievers fought back, and in the winding seconds of the game, they topped off the tank for a respectable 5-4 finish.

We let them back in the game, but never enough to take the lead, or even tie.

It’s a lesson well-learned for the Biggie Shorties, to never let up.  To keep your foot on the gas pedal.  To not relent or let down.  To just keep scrounging.  Because if you leave it all up to coasting, someday a team is going to keep you honest.

Biggie Shorties take the field next week (July 11) against AC Shaolin.  Stay tuned for when we fucking pull [their] fucking tongues out [their] fucking mouth[s] and stab the shit with a rusty screwdriver, BLAOW!


I'm an imp. I’m the youngest and smallest in a loud Irish family, which taught me that I will be interrupted unless I make my points (a) entertaining, (b) brief, or (c) outrageous. Being correct is immaterial. This is very good training for writing columns. I am not easily moved or offended, but I am easily amused. I enjoy writing for myself as much as I enjoy writing for an audience. I have several screenplays that sit on a hard drive, and I just like knowing they’re there. I also love soccer, basketball, running marathons, and milk. Professionally, I manage projects, staff, clients, and operations at a UX show that does websites and applications. Before that, I conducted opinion research at a public affairs firm. And before that, I got my Master of Public Policy at the University of Southern California and B.A. from the University of Maryland. I have lived in Washington, D.C. since 2007.

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