Socka

In response to demand, I am making a super fast update about my last few days. I have started to move away from my nerdy blogging persona to a more active 'jock' type personality, which means that my blogging time is short.

I ran the Terry Fox marathon of hope (actually, only 10k of hope) and it was pretty difficult considering how out of shape I was. Still, I started strong and was only lapped by people who looked like professional athletes. I also got a wicked sunburn.

Then I went to a birthday party at an Indian restaurant in Itaewon. For someone who hates Itaewon as much as I do, I can't understand why I spend so much time there. I am clearly hanging out with the wrong kinds of people. The food was pretty good though I have to say - for anyone who is inclined - the restaurant is called 'Evergreen' except the sign says 'Eavergreen'. They were super nice and polite to us despite being a ragged band of foreigners with shaved heads, tattoos, garish clothes and manners.

I played soccer the next day and got another wicked sunburn (despite wearing layers of sunscreen). We lost, but that is not the most sensational part. With 10 minutes remaining, one of the weaker players (let's call him Fatty) was forced off after having only a few minutes of playing time. Well, we want to win and Fatty isn't the swiftest boot in the club. Fatty complains, which is his nature, and the sponsor of our team, let's call him Sarge, a former navy seal, a man with 3 years of army combat training, tells him to shut up. Fatty doesn't want to shut up. He continues to whine. Sarge shoves Fatty. Fatty, as foolish as he is begirthed, charges Sarge. Sarge cold-cocks Fatty who drops to his knees, Sarge then knees Fatty in the head. Fatty is out for the count.

This sort of internecine violence is pretty much unheard of in pro sport or amateur sport, or really, anywhere. So, the game stopped, and we all basically shouted 'Sarge, what the hell are you doing?' This precipitated hours of angry discussions, threats of filing with the authorities, both soccer and police, informal meetings, and the bus ride home was slightly more somber than usual. I did get a chance to meet an interesting guy who grew up in an ethnic Korean city in China. He speaks reasonable English, fluent Chinese and Korean. The modesty of these linguistic geniuses always humbles me. If I could speak a smattering of Chinese I'd boast about it whenever I had the opportunity.

When we reached the drop-off point (a university gate entrance, replete with neo-classical sculpture and marble columns) there was what I would like to think of as an Athenian style forum on the future of Sarge and the influence of his money on the team. Would we say goodbye to the free meals, the shuttles, the discounted shoes, the names on our shirts? There were several passionate speeches by the major players. Sarge is definitely full of too much testosterone, despite his age (37?) or maybe because of it, and he had difficulty appearing properly ashamed, so his apology fell a bit flat. Still, I think Fatty should not have been martyred as he was, since he brought at least a small part of this on himself. Most people didn't see the initial fracas, only Fatty's unconscious lumpy form. We sat on the steps and, much like ancient Greece I imagine, nothing was resolved.

Then we went out to a restaurant where I had the best Korean meal to date. It was like eating galbi at a galbi joint except that it was also a buffet where you could grab whatever you wanted, as much as you wanted and all for 6500 won. Here we truly shined. Off the pitch our team's gluttony cannot be matched.

Yesterday my students asked me why my nose was red. I said it was because I was drunk. "Teacher, do you think that soju is your water?" If I did lass, I wouldn't be here to tell you about it.