I was a prisoner of inertia

I coach a boys soccer team, something I've done for several years. During practices, we like to work on spacing and passing, and we always end with a little scrimmage. If there's an odd number of kids, I take part in the drills and scrimmages to make sure the groups are even.

If I'm playing in one of the scrimmages, I'll try to keep the score close. If my team is ahead, I won't try to score myself. Instead, I'll pass off to one of the kids to give them a chance to score. If my team is behind, I'll put a little more effort into evening out the score.

In today's practice, we had an odd number of kids, so Coach Don was playing in the scrimmage. The other team was ahead, so I was trying to keep the score close. One of the kids on the other team was dribbling down the field, and I was the only defender between him and the goal. He took a shot at the goal from a distance. As the ball rolled toward the goal, I ran it down and kicked it out. It would have been a stunning play if not for the next part.

Like a professional wrestler thrown against the ropes who can't keep himself from bouncing back, I was now a prisoner of inertia. After kicking the ball out, my momentum continued to propel me forward. And due to the muddy conditions, I was unable to change my direction. Which was unfortunate, because I then found myself propelled into the goalpost.

The sight of the coach sliding into the post elicited some laughs from the kids, which was not unexpected. After all, they are 8 and 9 years old. I'm just thankful that I didn't hit the post with my head. I would've hated to have dented the post.