Amidst the bevy of muppetry that exists on Big Soccer, I sometimes find respite when I don’t feel like over-socializing, yet feel compelled to interact in more than 140 characters about things that most reasonable people would find as interesting as Paris Hilton discussing Sartre.
I’ve tried to make my significant other my soccer conversation partner through sheer force, but now I truly understand the plight of the missionary. No matter how suave one may be, converting the disinterested can border on impossible. But the same applies to stubbornness, which is why missionaries and the disinterested stubborn make such a magical pairing. I digress.
Upon failing to covert the other, I did what anyone in their right mind without an audience would do. I went online.
That was four years ago.
As those of you who have spent time on the Big Soccer message boards know, you can only last so long before developing feelings, mostly anger mixed with a splash of fury and exasperation. But despite these recurring sentiments, and even though I sometimes take extended breaks from Big Soccer, at some point, I inevitably return, although my participation rate has declined dramatically. Over the years, I have accumulated fake friends, fewer fake enemies, and a slew of bantering associates who love the same asinine thing I love. If I am being honest, I think I might even enjoy the company of some of my fellow BS compatriots, in a purely platonic way, of course.
I’m aware that meeting people you’ve met online can be shady business. We’re only talking soccer here, so it’s clearly not Chris Hanson shady, but the potential for catastrophe does exist, especially when expectations are created from fake identities. But these meetings may be virtually impossible to avoid. My new theory is that online and real worlds will inevitably collide when you persist on inhabiting the same online space for a significant period of time. As I recently learned, it’s just a matter of time.
Last month while in New York, I came out of the online closet.
I ran into a guy who is a frequent pint consumer at Nevada Smiths, New York’s legendary soccer pub. We’ve shot the proverbial feces on several occasions at Nevadas, so we just picked up where we left off. This time, however, our chat veered from the match, segueing into a conversation that recently took place on Big Soccer.
I bit.
“Wait, you’re in [Forum B]? What’s your name?” I asked.
“[FakeName].”
“Oh, snap. I’m [FakeName2].” (I said “snap” rather than snapping, which would have been awkward.)
And there it was, the full, naked, face-to-face disclosure. The good thing is that he was someone I had already decided was a relatively sane contributor to the board. Not that I am the arbiter of all things sane, but in my head, I am.
The rest of my day at Nevadas, with one exception (mentioned below), was smooth like Christopher Cross.
Here is what I learned from my self-outing:
1) Admitting to a real person that I am AwkwardName X from Internet Chat Room Y is partially embarrassing. Sure, this isn’t some perverted club, but it is a perversion of sorts, which makes coming out of the closet liberating, but unnerving at the same time. Your lesson: Liberation comes at a price. So do libations. Nothing worthwhile is free.
2) Shortly after outing myself, a few others joined our conversation. One of them revealed himself to be another character I was familiar with on the Big Soccer boards. I immediately did not like his real life persona. This guy was more aggressive in person than he was online, which I found odd. Revisiting some of his posts in my head, I concluded that he’s the type of guy to use message boards to test his theories before heading out to the pub to regurgitate opinion after opinion as fact, as if he worked for our beloved club. If I could have shoved him back into a computer, I would have. His real life character permanently tainted his fake character. Since then, I have vowed to battle him online whenever possible, whether I agree with him or not. Your lesson: Be prepared to make enemies.
3) If you plan on meeting someone for the first time from Big Soccer, bring a friend. Best case scenario: Three friends hang out. Worst case scenario: Two friends hang out. Both of these scenarios are better than you and an enemy hanging out on a double-date for two hours. Your lesson: Avoid torture.
4) The interwebs has made being a fan more exhausting than ever. Your lesson: Learn to hate the interwebs.
I hope these lessons serve you well.
Hah. But, do they know that X from Big Soccer is the same person who writes for this site?
And even though I think you are right that most people are probably more aggressive online than in person – I have to say the 10 second break it takes me to type is necessary for me to filter. While normally (in real life) I would just blurt out, “you are a fucking idiot” – the 10 seconds it takes for me to type that out is enough for me to reason with myself/filter myself to say something like “Perhaps, but I still think…”
I doubt they know.
I completely agree that most people are more aggressive online, which is what caught me off guard. He was nothing like I expected.
You should teach me that skill of filtering. I frequently run off at the mouth. Maybe too frequently. Never do I imagine that the listener is grinding his/her teeth, desperately wanting to punch me.
I think they need to have Big Soccer cruises. Kinda like Cougar cruises, but more cubs and less in-person aggression.
Well, now you know what I’m really thinking if I ever say that..
Elliot: The Big Soccer Cruise sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. The kind of disaster that makes for a great reality tv show.
They should only be able to communicate on the Big Soccer cruise by texting.
Can imagine that, for a thoughtful, inquisitive esquire, venturing into Big Soccer is like looking for a slow dance in a mosh pit…
Putting face to names can be awkward, especially faces to Twitter handles. Any experience being the “NutmegRadio” instead of “FakeName”?
As for the significant other conversion, it’s just a matter of preparing a soccer conversion mixtape. Take him/her to a really important match. If it’s not in person, make sure it’s in a contagious atmosphere. Share the funny and human interest stories that come across your radar – stuff that shows soccer is more than a sport – and avoid exposing him/her to Tommy Smyth.