Donkey Flip Kick

We sat on the sidelines, watching. It was the last soccer game of the season for the teams and they were ready to bring it. Zoe was also ready to bring it- the Peroni that is. She unveiled it from her new, rather voluptuous, bag along with some ciggys, and chocolate. Game on. Becca, Zoe, Liam and I sat grooving to music and watching the criss cross back front donkey kicks going on. It was a chilly night, the kind where your breath crystallizes in the air before falling suddenly. The players were huffing and puffing (athletically) and flying around. Chiara was, of course, head honcho shouting out orders before she was brutally head-butted. We foresaw a scary bruise but it's alright. Everybody got war wounds this semester. It's not that the game was exceptional or otherworldly. It was really just good semi-clean fun- illicit cheering, running on the turf post-game, and eventually hugging your sweaty compatriots. Epic.