Soquetocky Anyone?

Last night, my roommate had an indoor soccer game. Indoor soccer, I’ve decided, is a hybrid sport: a soccer-raquetball-hocky combination. Soquetocky, perhaps, would be a more suitable name. Sounds a little like Japanese alcohol.

True, the rules and concept are similar to its outdoor counterpart. True the players wear shin guards and goal keepers bat down shots with big gloved hands. But some key things are missing: Grass. The game takes place on a court (OK, this might be obvious). Cleats. Players wear sleek tennis shoes instead. Throw-ins. A fuzzy soccer ball look-alike ricochets off the walls making throw-ins somewhat obsolete. Fouls. So apparently this rule still exists, although I saw multiple players slam each other into the walls without the slightest reprimand from a referee.

Who do we have to account for such quirks? Citizens of Newark.

According to the United States Indoor Soccer Association, indoor soccer dates back to 1885 at the Newark Roller Skating Rink. Glimmering beneath the rink’s electric lights, two teams faced off for the first ever recorded indoor soccer game. Since then, indoor soccer has developed into a full-fledged sport with its own rule-book, a professional league, an American league and a national championship. Not bad.

So why wasn’t I on the Soquetocky-bandwagon? For one—I’m not a big drinker, at least not of any Japanese liquor. Two: I run. Running does not require nor cultivate much coordination. Also, years of long-distance training = I can’t sprint to save my life. From there, simple logic prevails: If I have no skill, then I will hurt my team or perhaps myself trying to play, so I will cheer for my roommate instead.