I was five years old when I first heard the word “soccer.” My best friend and I were changing into our fresh-out-of-the-box uniforms in his Mom’s station wagon, and I figured that the name of this sport we were about to try must have something to do with the long purple socks that we were trying to pull on over what we’d just learned were called shin guards.
当我第一次听到“足球”这个词时，我才五岁。我和最好的朋友在他妈妈的旅行汽车里换着新制服，我发现这上面有着足球这个名称。我觉得它和我们正要试穿的紫色长筒袜一定有关系。后来，我才知道他叫护膝(shin guard)。
A year later, once I’d learned to spell, I was baffled to see that the name of my favorite sport wasn’t “socker.” And so, the first soccer game I ever saw was the first game I played in. I probably scored a goal, too. I usually did. Not to brag, but as a five-year-old kid on the sun-scorched fields of North Texas, wearing a perforated purple jersey that hung down to my knees, I was an absolute menace in front of goal. This was in the mid-seventies, in the middle of the big US soccer boom...