Who DOES That?

The east side of the soccer fields where I go every afternoon to pretend I'm Pele is bordered by a pathway that separates the turf from a recreation center. There is a retirement home nearby, and I often see elderly couples strolling along on the other side of the fence. I always hold my shots when they pass, as I don't have enough confidence in my ball control to shoot while someone is behind the goal, lest I expertly lob the deadly sphere over the fence and into the head of the poor octogenarian who's just trying to coax his corgi to pee.

Yesterday was no different. A petite elderly woman in too-short jeans and a red cardigan made her way down the path toward my end of the field. I had been staring down an eight-year-old who could juggle the ball better than I can shooting penalty kicks as the woman approached and I stopped to tighten my shoelaces until she passed. She'd made it several yards past the goal (keep in mind that there's a fence separating the field and the path, but it's only a bit higher than the goal's crossbar) when I decided that she was far enough away that I wouldn't hit her. I scooped up the ball with my foot, juggled it off my knee, and kicked it mid-air toward the netting.

There's a reason I shouldn't be confident in my ball control. I realized this as I watched the ball soar over the fence, into the side of the red brick recreation building (pictured left), and hurtle, in gut-wrenchingly slow motion, toward the elderly woman's head. My heart stopped. I opened my mouth to warn her but no sound came out. The ball landed with a dull whack four feet in front of her and, thank God, bounced the opposite direction into the fence. I sprinted to the gate. "Oh my gosh," I gushed, mortified, "I am so sorry. Really. I am so sorry!" The woman bent down, picked up the ball, and held it out to me with both hands. "It's okay!" she said, "You didn't hurt me!" She smiled in that way that only elderly people can smile--that Bless Your Heart, You Poor Thing smile--and continued on her way.

I immediately pulled out my phone. "Holy mother of God," I texted my friend. "I almost just hit an old woman in the head."

Who does that? I should be shot.