monstars1 FIRST LOOK / LAST LOOK: During these pivotal weeks on the calendar, as we turn from one year and toward another, GreaterLongBeach.comis examining a small assortment of people, events and trends—last looks at some that made 2011 memorable, first looks at others that promise to make 2012 interesting.

Today, a last look at a defining freshman-year experience for Jackson Lowery, a Southern California kid who a few months ago began pursuing his higher education at San Francisco State.

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I walked into the gym a few months ago with an open mind, just the loose idea of having some easygoing fun playing intramural indoor soccer—a break from all the changes that come with being a first-semester freshman at San Francisco State. But then I met you. When I asked if you were on “Chris’s Team,” you looked at me like I just asked you to give me a pre-game tug under the bleachers. Only later did I find out you’d named your team the “Master-gators.” Really? You looked old enough to rent a car.

Oh, I got the joke. Everybody did: out of all the witty names that could possibly be given to an intramural indoor soccer team, you and your co-captain (who looks exactly like Frank Zappa) picked a pun that created the mental image of our university mascot pleasuring itself. Maybe I was embarrassed because it’s the kind of name I would have chosen for my freshman team—my freshman debate … in high school. Master-debator 4 lyfe!

At that point I took my first good look at you—and immediately knew who you were. Let me break you down for you, Guy Who Took My Intramural Indoor Soccer Game Way Too Seriously:

You had decently long hair, but not long enough to wear a headband like Sasha Vujacic—which not only were you wearing, but which you also made yourself out of neon green athletic tape … to seem ironic, right? That’s the effect you were going for with the rest of your getup, too–that man-tank, those short-shorts (but no bulge), those layered pink-and-blue-striped socks from Urban Outfitters, the bright-orange Nikes on your feet.

It was obvious you were trying to say, “Wouldn’t it be hilarious if we took this intramural soccer game seriously? And wouldn’t it be hilarious if we cried in each other’s arms after the game because we don’t have the father-son bond we hoped for?” Wouldn’t it be ironic?”

Maybe it would have been—except it was even more obvious how seriously you were taking your attempt to look ironic.

Let’s look at those bright-orange Nikes, which I happen to know cost between $70 and $80 a pair and are specifically designed for playing intramural indoor soccer.

What I’m saying is, not only did you spend $80 on shoes to play intramural indoor soccer,  but you went out of your way to locate shoes produced for no other purpose than to play intramural indoor soccer. I’m guessing it took you at least two hours on line to find a store that carried $80 orange Nike intramural indoor soccer shoes. And that you had to drive about a 1 ½ hours (depending on traffic) to reach this store.

So your total cost wasn’t just all that time and the $80 for the orange Nike intramural indoor soccer shoes—but also the $40 you poured in the 98 VW Golf your grandma gave you for high school graduation—all of it so people might look at you for five seconds, tops?

Look, I’m not saying all this because soccer is not very popular in America; I’m saying it because indoor soccer is basically Takraw in America.

Of course, Guy Who Took My Intramural Indoor Soccer Game Way Too Seriously, you would never admit this was all premeditated. Instead, you’d say “Pfft!” Followed by, “You wouldn’t understand.”

Oh, but I do understand, Guy Who Took My Intramural Indoor Soccer Game Way Too Seriously. I truly do. I understand you wore those socks and shoes so people would look at your footwear combo and say “Wait a minute! Is that fella wearing blue-and-pink striped socks and orange shoes? Orange Nikes? Well, surely he knows those don’t match! Don’t match one bit!”

But that was just your outfit. Soon we were getting ready to play the intramural indoor soccer game, the one you were going to take too seriously—the one you were already taking too seriously, during warm-ups, while everyone else was still loosening up.

I saw you taking those practice shots. You kicked really hard but missed every time. There was no goalie. You were shaking it off, explaining to … somebody, I’m sure … that you were “dusting off the rust.” The reason you were kicking the ball so hard was to impress the women in the room, even though there’s never been a single recorded instance of a woman getting turned on by a man in a neon headband, tank top, blue short shorts and the sadness on your feet as he kicked a soccer ball really hard.

Once the game began, you started calling out plays to Zappa, and it was clear one of your favorites was when the ball was on the complete opposite end of the pitch, and you called for Zap to pass it to you.

OK, Bitch Move No. 1: You cherry-picked every play. And then you kicked the ball as hard as you possibly could, right into the keeper’s arms.

Bitch Move No. 2: Every time you “cornered” one of our players on the sideline, you started shoving them out of bounds—a tactic that’s illegal in every sport except football. Breaking a rule on every play in an intramural indoor soccer game? That’s the definition of a bitch.

Bitch Move No. 3 One of our smaller players goes in for a header against your keeper, who’s wearing a backwards trucker hat. There’s some contact, but obviously no harm, although what you’ve noticed is the kid is about half your size. Immediately, you’re immediately in his face screaming, “What the fuck, bro?” Let me just say this: everyone on my team is 18. When you were a freshman in college, we were in the sixth grade bragging about our singular pubes. And because you’re pretty chubby, you decide that you’re gonna be the enforcer of your intramural indoor soccer team.

Worst bitch move of all: You’re team was up, 7-1, with 2 minutes to go in the game. The ball went out of bounds, resulting in a corner for your team; you put it upon yourself to say “Dont’ hold up! Let’s go!” and passed it to one of your teammates for an easy score. You ran up the score in an intramural indoor soccer game. So not only do you not have respect for me or my teammates, but for the entire grand sport of intramural indoor soccer.

In fact, not only did you ruin intramural indoor soccer for me, you ruined soccer as a whole … and just as I was about to put soccer above baseball. I’d been playing the FIFA video game for a couple weeks now, started to call myself a Chelsea fan and even went as far as watching the Chelsea vs. Man U game. I chose futbol over football! But after this game, soccer fell below ice skating. You know, I was even thinking that I wanted to pursue a career in Soccer Broadcasting rather than football. Who knows? I could have gotten on ESPN and made soccer the phenomenon it is around the world in the US. But no, you chose to make an attempt at being ironically quirky like one of those girls whose profile picture is a picture of her with horn rim glasses with no lenses.

Fuck you, Guy Who Took My Intramural Indoor Soccer Game Way Too Seriously, this is all your fault. If you really think about it, because I won’t make soccer popular, indoor soccer will fade away into oblivion. Oh sure there will be some other sports to play at the Y once you stop changing your major but once that’s done with, you’ll be all alone in a Flagstaff motel with no one to hold you close except those pink and blue socks.

Master-gator, indeed.