I was walking down the street earlier today when a rogue soccer ball went flying past me.  It belonged to a group of Caribbean guys in front of me on the sidewalk.  Being a little spacey still from too much computer time, I pick it up and toss it over instead of kicking it like most anyone who’s ever been around a soccer ball would do. They good-naturedly invite me to play which I decline, explaining I’m more of a baseball guy.  

They look a little puzzled for a moment and then one of them says, “Yeah, you’re American. You don’t know how to play, right?”  And then it was kind of an odd moment when I thought for a second that I should know how to play soccer because I live in Crown Heights, and then I remembered that Crown Heights is actually in New York City. I forget this sometimes, which is kind of cool.