I'm Retired! Now what?

July 5, 2026

A few days ago I was hanging out with my brother’s kids, celebrating my sister-in-law’s mother’s 91^st birthday.  Other than the usual kid and job talk, the big discussion for the day was the World Cup!  Both of my nephews played soccer throughout their high school years and even officiated a few little league games in their teens.  Like the rest of the world those guys were following the World Cup soccer games with way more excitement than I believed was possible for Americans.  There was even talk about heading off to Europe in four years to take in the next World Cup.   My niece Kirsten had taken an even further soccer indulging step and was going down to Dallas to take in a World Cup game live and in person!

Now I have no issues with the game of soccer or football, as the rest of the world calls it.  And I have a basic understanding of the game.  Let’s see, a bunch of players get on the field and try to kick a ball into a net, and whoever kicks the ball into the net the most times wins….right?  Although I never played any kind of organized soccer, I did used to play something the resemble soccer back in my jr. high days during recess at school.  Okay, these games were more like a mixture of soccer and a gang fight, but we did occasionally kick a ball.

Regardless of my lack of soccer knowledge, my town of Sherman, Texas has come up with its own FC soccer team.  What does the “FC” stand for?   I don’t have a clue, but I did check out a game last year, so when my niece Kirsten asked me if I wanted to meet up in a couple of days to support the local soccer heroes, I was game!  I realize there are around five levels of professional baseball in the USA, but I have no idea what the levels are concerning pro soccer in this country.  I’m sure the top players are paid top bucks, but I’m guessing the guys I was going to see are paid with little more than compliments and smiles. 

These local soccer heroes of this league can be found playing on the football fields of the local high school teams, and for the evening our game was being carried out at Ron Poe Stadium in McKinney, Texas. The place holds 7,000 sports fans, but I’m having my serious doubts if there was anywhere close to that number on hand, but despite the sweltering Texas heat, there was a decent crowd on hand.  Because the games are played on the turf of the local high school football team I always have to wonder if all the yard lines screw up the soccer players’ focus, but they seem to do just fine.  Strangely enough, there seemed to have been a good crowd of fans that had followed me down from Sherman to join in with the McKinney fans to create a regular soccer frenzy!   The World Cup might have been rockin’ the world, but we were all there to see the mighty Texoma FC battle against the local McKinney FC Chupacabras, whatever the heck that is.

Kirsten was still pretty stoked about the World Cup game she had seen in Dallas the day before.   Her game had pitted Egypt against Australia, and I was beginning to realize that the World Cup is such a big deal that people go to the games just to basically go to a game!  A lot of those who flock to these games don’t really care what teams they’re seeing.  Apparently, just being there is what’s important!  With my niece’s sudden soccer obsession, I deemed the young lady an expert in all things soccer and started bombarding her with questions.  “What’s a red card?  What’s a yellow card?  Why is the clock going forward and not backward like it does in a real sport?  How do players know how much time is left in the game?  Are there quarters?  Are there periods?  Is there a half time show?  What’s a chupacabra?”  Kirsten’s six-year-old daughter, on the other hand, had only one question during the game, and that was, “When is this going to be over?”  She wanted to ditch the game and go to Buc-ee’s!

Most of the soccer games I’ve attended in my years usually consisted of five-year-olds, and during these games their coach was usually running around on the field with them telling them which way to kick the ball.  I also remember these games usually had to stop after every goal scored because the goalie would start crying.  This was known as the sad goalie timeout.  As for the current game, I was having enough issues just trying to keep the teams straight, and about fifteen minutes into the game I came to the conclusion that I had been cheering for the wrong team.  “Our team is wearing the black uniforms,” Kirsten informed me.  Yea, I probably should have sorted out that issue before the game started. 

Kirsten’s daughter might have been feeling the call of Buc-ee’s over her love of soccer, but my niece’s ten-year-old son was on the edge of the bench for the entire game.  The kid went a little crazy when our team scored their first goal, and I was happy that there was no time lost for a sad goalie timeout.  By now I had figured out what team I needed to be cheering for, and like a true fan, I released a mighty shout of excitement when our team scored another goal, and that would be it as far as the scoring went for the game.  Our team, the Texoma FC shut out the McKinney Chupacabras 2 to 0.

 Much to my great nephew’s delight, the victorious players were more than happy to reach out and sign anything he wanted them to sign.  Indeed, these guys acted as though they were thrilled that we had made the thirty-five-mile drive down to watch their road game.  Many of them actually thanked us for coming!  Such makes me wonder why NBA and NHL stars never take the time to make a public announcement, thanking the fans for showing up to their games.  Maybe this wasn’t the World Cup, but for all the kids and local folks who showed up, it would do for the evening.  As for Kirsten’s daughter, she just wanted to go to Buc-ee’s.