Country Boy in the Concrete Jungle

The Houston Dynamo organization rode its back-to-back momentum as long as it could. Now we're just another MLS club deep in the heart of Texas. The people who know me well laughed when I told them I was moving to Texas saying how well I would fit in there. Ironically it's been quite the opposite. Despite my efforts to get tapped into the things I enjoy. I've struggled to find my niche down here. Last weekend I went to an alumni event to watch the Indiana-Kentucky basketball game. I had a lot of fun, but I was by far the youngest person there. One of the guys is a big soccer fan and player. He's only a few years older, but he's married. I've done the third wheel thing my fair share of times and I'm tired of playing that game. However I did meet an alumn who cycles and wants to get me on his club because I'm an ex-Little 500 legend in my own mind. After that I had dinner with a Philmont adviser. Talking about something other than Dynamo/soccer was a treat. She's signing me up for her Venture Crew so I can attend their events in the future. That night a friend of mine from church and one of our Dynamo girls had her birthday at the dueling piano bar Howl at the Moon. I tried to recruit a few buddies from work, but to no avail. I went anyway. Most of the people there were from our Sunday school class and we're nothing but a bunch of stiffs. They didn't sing along or get into it, which is where the fun is. All they did was stare at their diet cokes and sprites on the rocks. I drank a few beers, but it's not like I got hammered. My friend Jennifer put it this way: if you were Greek in college and a Christian- you get it. I'm a Saturday night out on the town and a Church boy on Sunday. So for the time being, I'm going to crank up my John Mellencamp and George Strait CD's and keep on being a country in the concrete jungle.