Sippin' Suds

Random Laura memory for your reading pleasure:

One of the first times I ever remember enjoying beer was following an indoor soccer game when I was in medical school. A gal in my women's group played for a team that needed a sub, and being (un)arguably the most athletic option in our group, she asked me if I would join her. I remember sucking wind so hard I had to go to the restroom at half time because I thought I was going to vomit. I remember a few good touches and a lot of bad ones, and the muscle memory of over 10 years coming back to me by the end of the game. And I remember going out for pizza and beer after the game.

This may seem routine to most of you, but to my sheltered, introverted, prohibitionist 23-year-old self, it was quite a thrill. First of all, to think I was meeting new people, going outside my comfort zone, showing off my athletic prowess (that last part may not be what actually happened)--it was kind of amazing. This is what young, single adults do when they're not crouched in their room rotating a model of a human skull to memorize nerve pathways! I was basking in the glow of the guys calling me "Mia Hamm" (so maybe I didn't suck so bad after all). I marveled at our captain's vast knowledge as he discussed draft options with the waiter (How does one even know that many beers?). And I can still taste that wonderfully greasy cheese and Shiner Bock merging together to form perfection.

I remember wondering if it was only because I had exhausted myself and my salt stores on the field, or if it was because I was drinking something besides Coors Light, or if it was because I was enamored with my new-found social graces, but that beer tasted good! This must be why people drink it, I thought. It took a few more years for my palate to fully agree, but considering that now my standard day-off activity is microbrewery flights with the womb-mate, I've come a long way, baby.

Also, speaking of bocks, Paulaner's Salvator is pretty delish as well.

Title IX Fail

I'm going to get on my soapbox for a hastily researched, but impassioned rant.

Here's the thing: women's soccer is a real sport. And in the United States, it is really the only soccer (USMNT qualifier thrills notwithstanding).

Case in point: The USWNT has won 4 Olympic golds and 2 World Cup titles (and has been on the podium in every Cup since the first one in 1991). No men's player will EVER come close to touching Kristine Lilly's international cap record of 352, and it's unlikely that any men's player will top Abby Wambach for goals (currently at 182).

And yet, the only media coverage that I saw leading up to this World Cup was over the lawsuit regarding the failure of FIFA to allow grass installation for the matches. The men's World Cup has been played on grass for the last 20 years. Turf not only plays a different game, but is dangerous (heat and injuries are much higher). It's also cheaper. So, turf it is.

Plus who really cares about women's soccer? Not the media. Denver Post coverage for the men's tournament began days before the first kickoff last year. Sunday's paper had one line the day after the women's tournament started, and it was the time of the televised Germany game that day, tucked away in the TV grid. No results from the first two games. No mention of the score to settle from 2011. No preview of the coming weeks.

It. Drives. Me. Crazy.

I realize that not everyone knows the names of the entire roster, or owns a jersey, or saved the picture of former coach Pia Sundhage on their camera from when the team came to Kansas City (because she's only adorable). And I'll also grant that we have lost a little bit of the magic of the Fab Five--women that carried the sport on their shoulders through sheer determination and love of the game. But can we please at least acknowledge that this is a sport? That this World Cup means something? That these women are incredible athletes that deserve far more recognition than they receive?

I would also take another title. Just sayin'.