She was returning home from meeting some friends in town for lunch when she spotted what looked like a soccer ball on the roadside not far from the rear access road to her parent’s farm. She stopped to pick up the ball, and went on to the farm road. She decided to see how well she could still kick and play with the ball. She was anxious to get to the house and change to find out. As she was driving across to the house, she kept hefting the ball with her right hand. She does not know if it was the two glasses of wine, or simply having a soccer ball in her hands again after such a long time, but she stopped beside one of the rolling meadows on the land, and got out of her car. Normally, she kept some rugged shoes in the trunk, but they were back at the house today. Sandra was too anxious to do something with the ball, “I’ll just use my knees and head,” she thought. She was wearing a pair of maroon mule slides, which she slipped out of so she would not damage them.

     For several minutes, she practiced with the ball. The practice took her near where she parked and left her shoes. Whether it was elation of the moment, or reduced inhibitions, it did not matter; she slipped the shoes back on, and gave the ball a terrific kick. “Wow, that was great!” she exclaimed. Still jazzed at the experience, she started to run to where the ball landed. Two things dawned on her at the same time. First, something was different as she ran; second, something flew through the air with the ball. At that point, Sandra knew without knowing the answer to both questions: the object that accompanied the ball for a significant part of its flight was a maroon size-8 mule with a 1 ˝ inch charcoal stacked effect heel. Looking down confirmed it! She was strangely thrilled when she found the shoe went almost as far as the ball.

     Sandra checked the shoe, and, to her relief, other than some very slight scuffs, there was only a small lighter scuffed area from kicking the ball. Well, another challenge to face, she continued kicking the ball, alternating feet and trying to get maximum distance out of the shoes. She decided to try to keep the shoes on after she had to knock a shoe out of a tree. At most, if a shoe came off, it only traveled a couple of feet. “Funny, although I never pampered my shoes, I never did anything so risky to them, either,” she mused as she continued having fun.

     It had not rained for quite a while, so the ground was dry and dusty. As a result of this, the rich maroon color of her shoes was quickly turning tan, except for a small dark place on each toe, which was probably caused by grass between her shoe and the ball when she kicked. On something any lighter in shade, it might have been called a grass stain. She saw interesting patterns on the shiny surfaces of her stacked effect heels from the grass and dust. Satisfied that her mules had not been damaged, she continued on, planning to stop if it looked like anything serious or permanent was happening to them. The shoes had no decorations to worry about.

     Since there was nothing but space there, Sandra chose to just kick the ball from wherever it came to rest. All went well until the ball rolled down a hill into one of the many streams that were on the property. This spot was one where her father dumped a large load of clamshells he had bought somewhere, and not used. Time and storms had spread them out along this section of stream. She did not want to walk on those shells; she equally did not want to stop having fun as she was ‘on a roll.’ She had been caught in the rain several times in those particular shoes, so she did not worry about a little more water, she would be more careful in the future with the ball. She did not slow down as she splashed into the water after the ball. The ball had hung up at a shallow spot on some clamshells. Although it was dry, the stream still had plenty of water; several areas were about two feet deep. She reached the ball, and kicked it over to dry land just on the side of the stream. She waded out of the stream and went to where the ball landed. She was surprised by a jet of water that squirted out of her right shoe when she kicked the ball. The mules were once again maroon; albeit a darker shade.

     Dust quickly collected back onto the wet leather, and they turned brown this time due to the moisture. “Well, they did OK the first time, and they have been very wet from rain before, it shouldn’t hurt to wash them off when needed,” she thought.

     After a while, she figured her feet were soaking up some water, and making the insoles slick because her feet would periodically slip around inside the shoes. She found out why the next time a shoe flew off during a kick; the shoe went one way, the insole flapped another direction. When she pulled her foot out of the other mule to check it, the insole stuck to her foot! Now, Sandra had two maroon mule slides, size-8, minus insoles.

     “Drat! I hope these can be repaired,” she said out loud. She studied the shoes closely; the maroon trim around the back part had come loose, and was torn, most likely by her foot sliding around inside. She felt like she had not felt for many years, “Nothing to do about it, now, anyway but to have fun!”

     She spent the rest of the afternoon playing ‘kick-around’ on both dry ground and in the water, wherever the ball happened to land. She never gave the condition of her shoes another thought as she kicked, ran, splashed, clambered upon rocks, and kicked again. Finally, hunger forced her to go back to her car, and go on home.

     When she got home, she put the mules on the floor beside the bathroom sink where she put all her wet shoes to dry. She gave the shoes themselves no further thought for the rest of the evening.

     After getting up the next morning, Sandra examined the shoes closely; the leather grain showed a good bit of dirt, the toes were lighter in shade, there were new scrapes all around the shoes, the heels showed scrapes from walking on the clamshells, and maybe from the rocks, too. The toes also showed a few narrow hints of green from the grass. The shoes had changed shape some from so much wetness, and of course, the insoles were missing. The heels were firmly attached, and sturdy. She decided to not put them in the trash; they still had plenty of wear left for when she did not want to hurt a good pair. Sandra also considered going back out again today to play with the ball while wearing them. Maybe it was the ‘sportsman superstition’…

     Or, maybe the start of something else…