Furthball

It started as soccer, but that really doesn't give it justice.

There were 12 or 13 people on each team. Ages ranged from 7 to 49 years. Those with dark shirts played against those with light shirts, and the teams were evened out pretty well. All players were connected to the Furth family some way or other, but almost all of us were Furth by blood. To a few of you readers, that means something.

The second ingredient was the natural conditions. As anybody on the East Coast knows, it's been rainy for weeks. The soccer field behind my uncle's house was a quagmire. It was all very squishy and slick. And perhaps a fifth of the field total was under one to three inches of water. This mudpit made ball movement very erratic, and people overran the ball countless times as it came to rest in a puddle.

The last ingredient to this royal mudslide was our equipment. We wore anything we didn't mind getting mudsoaked, and no shoes. Stopping and starting became near impossible, barefoot on the saturated grass. Slide tackles kept going for four or five feet, and body checks became spectacular splashes.

The mayhem cannot be accurately described in zeroes and ones. Fortunately a non-Furth got it on tape, and I hope to be able to see it someday. But really, it can only be duplicated by the same people under the same conditions. And that's why I love being with my family.

P.S. At the end, we all got hosed down and jumped in the pool, even though it was only 60 degrees out.