Is it some kind of tournament, a team meeting or an award banquet?
The girls I was with were extremely excited to attend.
I decided to go for the dual purposes of serving as the wingman for my friend's younger brother and to see what all the fuss was about.
As I was about to walk into the 'soccer' party, I became a bit nervous. I had never gone to a party with a title before.
I usually go to places with street names directing traffic, but this had to be different. But 18th and Van Buren just doesn't have the same ring to it as a party with a one-word name.
What was I to expect? How was I to proceed?
I had to play it cool. I may never be privileged enough to go to a titled party again -- and I needed to be on my A-game.
I knew it was going to be different from the second I walked into the door.
Everyone in the house had taken off their shoes, presumably because soccer's main weapon is the foot. Perhaps feet would be sacred on this night.
I found the first chair that I could and sat down so that I could check out my surroundings.
To my right: four high school girls sitting and playing crazy eights.
To my left: three guys and two girls playing Mariocart and shockingly, enjoying it.
Behind me: the pile of shoes, and the door, begging me to leave through it.
I was confused. This wasn't what I expected.
It felt like I had walked into a freshman dorm room on a Tuesday night.
How did this party deserve a title?
Approximately 10 minutes after I had sat down in the house I realized why this party was different. My friend and I were being kicked out.
It was easy for the hosts to notice us and realize that we weren't 'soccer party' material.
My friend and I were both taller than everyone in the house by a good four inches. Neither one of us were wearing popped-up collared shirts or Kappa jackets. Our shoes weren't Puma's, but skate shoes and Jordan's. And worst of all we weren't girls.
It seems like walk-ins for this party were supposed to be females only.
Apparently the owners of the house were unable to go out on their own and find members of the opposite sex to hang out with. They had to advertise where they were going to be in hopes that some girls would show up.
I guess it worked. The high schoolers at the table were very attractive and the two playing Nintendo seemed like really nice girls.
Luckily for me, the exit from the house was peaceful. If one of those guys had started toe-punching my shins, I don't know how long I could have taken it.
Now I don't have anything against anybody who plays soccer. I don't even think that I met anybody who actually plays the sport.
And I'm probably just jealous that I can't throw a party deserving a title.
What could I name a get-together?
A writer party? No, too nerdy sounding -- high school girls don't like nerds.
'I'm a Junior in college' party? Way too generic. Anybody could play video games at a party like that.
'Intramural flag football' party. This one looks promising, because of the athletic essence, but it doesn't seem to roll off the tongue like 'soccer party' does.
I think from now on I am going to stick with your run-of-the-mill, average-Joe street name parties.
A dress code isn't enforced. Your status isn't judged by the gel content in your hair, and Mike's Hard Lemonade isn't the drink of choice.
Eric Powell is a sports writer for The Daily Barometer. He can be reached at baro.sports@studentmedia. orst.edu.