Crabs Anyone?

Feel like coming out of your shell? Work busy so your pincers are in a snip? Do you imagine being crusted and walking sideways as you find your next sandy hole to penetrate?

Chances are that you have crab’s . . .

Soccer.

It was the first evening of summer last night, and our weather was so moderate that we had dinner outside. It was beautiful. To extend the feeling of holidays – and evidently because I am forgetful about the body age – it was time to introduce Crab Soccer to the family.

Pip Jones has been playing it indoors at school. It reminded me of using Crab Soccer as a warm up game for PE and how popular it was with 12-year olds. And how students aged 16 and 17 loathed it.

I think it has something to do with the crustacean posture of play. One must assume this position for the entire game, ignoring the urge to sit upon buttocks and/or snap at other players because of tricep soreness.  All the while, the ‘normal’ rules of Crab Soccer are endorsed:

1. No crab may hold another’s ball.

2. Professional Crab Soccer may be a great way to make a crust, but crabs must not behave like prawns.

3. Crabs must wear team colours and shake pincers prior to play

4. Vilification laws apply in the event of calling another player a ‘dolphin dick’, an ‘annoying anemone’ or a ‘wanker whale’.

I marked out a small court in chalk on the pavers, set four cones as the goals and started the game.  Pop Jones and Mac teamed up against Pip and I, and things quickly got out of hand (as they always do due to Mac being so competitive.)  Unfortunately, I had underestimated Mac’s ability as a Crab Soccer exponent.  Given his unusual skills, I thought he might struggle to master the position and the dexterity required of this exceptional game.

Wrong!

Mac’s height advantage proved that a long crab with lengthy appendages is able to attain and control the Crab Soccer ball with ease.  And assume almost half the court in width.  It was impossible to scuttle past him.  He had all eyes (8 or 10 of them) on the Crustacean Cup.

Twenty-four hours post Crab Soccer, I sit and type wondering if that twenty minutes of hilarity was worth it.  My triceps feel as though they are screaming, my neck is fixed in one position (that of Crab Soccer player) and my spine . . .?  Let’s just say I nearly have an exoskeleton!

Crustaceano Ronaldo (in a crabshell, Mac) is also feeling the effects, but as we say down here ‘winners are grinners and losers can go home.’  He is smug about the Crab Soccer challenge.  But next time?  I’m growing the toe nails of all the other crabs that live in this sand dune and we are playing barefoot.

As stingers!