One summer evening, after a tough loss in our semi-final league game (this is big stuff), to take his mind off the self-professed depressive episode that was soon to take hold, my teammate, Sandeep, decided to regale me with his first impression of his roommate and long-time friend, Spencer; one of the best stories I’ve heard of its kind.

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At this particular moment in time, although I had not known the two for long, a few things had been made clear. Sandeep had a tangible presence; his wide smile and bellowing laugh accompanied his charismatic, zinging energy. Then, there was Spencer. Despite his tall stature, he was understated, soft spoken and gentle. In the slightest way, he'd hunch down, bringing his head a little closer to your eye level when speaking.

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The game had been quite heated, during which I was becoming increasingly despondent, a sign that I needed to soon step off the field. Sandeep, in contrast, projected encouragement and guidance across the pitch. At times I would look back at him with a defeated huff, and he would clap his goalie gloves together with an uplifting grin.

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I eventually did take to the sidelines, joining Spencer, and together, silently, we watched the teams exchange vindictive pushes and spirited words on the field. After a particularly sour moment, I looked over at Spencer only to see his neck craned toward the sky. An expansive sunset was splashed overhead. I smiled to myself.

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The story of how they met goes as follows, told, of course, by Sandeep:

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In the third grade, Sandeep had just moved schools and was starting to get a sense of the new environment. Being the astute kid that he was, he quickly pieced together that his homeroom teacher, in an attempt to fill her absence, would play music before slipping away to take (as I would imagine) a much needed smoke break. One fateful day, as usual, the teacher took her liberties and left the students to their own devices. Not yet exposed to the antics of the classroom, Sandeep was struck by the scene that swiftly unfolded before him. A crowd formed around what seemed like one student, to whom enthusiastic chants were directed. A brief clearing in the pack would eventually reveal the sickest kid putting on the performance of a lifetime. This was Spencer, age 8, doing the worm. It was in this moment that Sandeep promptly determined he needed to befriend him. And in this first impression, Sandeep ascribed to Spencer a ‘legendary’ status, something I hope still holds to this day, almost twenty years later.​