Rants and Ramblings: random commentary about culture, media, politics, technology and whatnot.

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I suppose it was bound to happen: I injured myself in this morning’s soccer game. And, true to form, a) it happened for no reason (i.e., I wasn’t throwing myself in front of the goal to block a shot) and b) I did my trademark post-injury “stop and drop” routine.

To set the scene for a moment: We played today’s game at 9 a.m. on a different field than usual, this one on a section of the National Mall just south of the Reflecting Pool, between the Lincoln and World War II memorials. Not only were three other soccer games going on at this time, but there were tons of tourists around — ever more as the hour went on.

I’m not even entirely sure what I was trying to do when the injury happened. All I know is that, while playing defense, I somehow landed on the outside of my right foot with a loud, worrisome *POP* sound. And I fell onto the pitch, I’m pretty sure I let loose a similarly loud string of expletives.

As my teammates helped me off the field, behind the goal, the pain in my ankle gave way pretty quickly to the dizziness, nausea and disorientation that inevitably set in when I hurt myself. Rob and Jenn kept an eye on me while the game continued behind us.

Eventually, the shock passed and I was able to sit up and take stock of the situation. My ankle was tender and in pain, but probably not broken (or else it would have been in a lot of pain, I guessed). Still, it wasn’t in any shape for a walk to the car, parked way over on the other side of the Lincoln Memorial, by the volleyball courts. So my teammate Pierre got permission from some nearby Park Service folks for Rob to drive the car onto the Mall to pick me up (via a service road just behind our soccer field).

When Rob drove up, I leaned on Pierre and Jenn for support as I hopped toward the car, and we all piled in. I have to say, it’s a strange sensation to be on the Mall in a car, rather than on foot or on a bike. Beyond the zippy Park Service golf carts, in my mind the Mall just isn’t the domain of cars. Yet there we were.

We made it out to Independence Avenue without incident — beyond having to negotiate around a garbage truck and waiting for a particularly slow-moving pedestrian to get out of our way — and, after dropping off our passengers, headed home.