Thursday, November 06, 2008

The opposite of happy

I'm a bit perturbed. Really.

I may have mentioned something about a 20-page paper due for my Advanced Creative Writing class. It was going to be narration of the Anchorwomen soccer season. Their tough record. The heartbreaking finishes. The will to carry on through adversity. It was going to be top-shelf stuff.

After setting aside hours of writing, interviewing, tweaking, re-writing* and reading, I had a solid eighteen double-spaced pages come Wednesday.

(*Which happened while I was copying and pasting my masterpiece together. I accidentally cut about six double-spaced pages and saved the document without pasting. I hit "undo" more often than a married man in Vegas, but alas, could not retrieve what was likely the most poetic six pages I've ever produced.)

However, my professor notified the class that the paper need only be five pages. Five. As in fifteen less than twenty. As in, anything beyond 15 pages will not be accepted. As in, you're sucker for slaving over your paper.

I told myself I would keep things G-rated and not swear here.



There. I feel moderately better.

So, for your reading pleasure, here is how I was going to start the paper.

There are twenty-one players on the RIC Women’s soccer team, all of whom love the game of soccer with a passion. The vast majority are freshman and sophomores, which leaves just enough room for three juniors and one senior. However, their love for the game was tested this season.

It was a humid summer morning


Here's the middle. I was going to transition this nicely...

Late summer gave way to fall, but the warm air stayed along for the ride. Due to a rather odd scheduling curiosity, the Anchorwomen opened up the season with seven games on the road. Needless to say, it didn’t help matters. After trading results at the St. John Fisher Tournament in upstate New York, they promptly dropped their next five matches in embarrassing fashion. 0-4 to Johnson & Wales, 0-5 to Babson, 0-1 to Roger Williams, 0-6 to Wheaton. They finally scored a goal against Salve Regina, but nevertheless, lost 1-2.

And so on. The losses accumulated like the autumn leaves. The season


It took me about twelve minutes to think this paragraph through.

If it weren’t for the score, the scene makes for a perfect postcard of rustic New England splendor. The bright glows of leaves are clinging to their branches as the wind threatens to rip them off their branches. The grass on the pitch still holds the same rich hue it did in August. But beauty has no impact on the score – the Anchorwomen attack is chilled, just like the biting winds circulating around the track-enclosed pitch.


I'm beginning to boil over.

The 2008 Anchorwomen season will fade like many of its predecessors - without any extensive record or recollection, save for that of coaches, players, families and friends. Nevertheless, their story
I lied.

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