Unlike many of my friends, I’m not much of a player.. of foosball that is. I can hold my own if backed into a corner or in this case challenged to a game. My only real hope is when I’m paired with someone more experienced and skilled at this miniature version of tabletop soccer.
This vintage table slowly rusting away under the slightly protective cover of an outdoor gathering place seems ripe for retirement or at least an upgrade. The battered and well-worn players have held their color and not much else, each waiting their turn to spring into action under the skilled or not-so-skilled hands of an approaching gamesman.
There was lots to discover here with the movement of hands forcing a shot and the blur of the white ball rebounding along the sideboards off the worn plastic feet. But in the end, the tiny static team awaiting the next round was the most compelling image after I barely survived total humiliation from this gathering around to watch.