You can find almost everything in a game where band of men hustling, chasing, scrambling, fighting for a ball in the green turf. Hence, most popular game in the world, not to say it's a lifestyle. There's no day without ball game. Actually, neither night. As a group of boys were playing it pretty late that night. For the lifestyle sake, they played under the roof in a small caged rented artificial field. But why didn't they? It's less tiring, less people needed, more chance to get the ball, and the most important thing, it's not free. Thanks to the lifestyle, they could hardly find an acre of grass that is free in this land.
The boy was standing firmly under the horizontal bar, between the two parallel posts. His job was simple. He had to deny every chance the ball going in between the bar and the posts with every part of his body in every possible way. On his earlier days back years, he was the man who were best doing the otherwise, to put the ball between the posts. The finest moment for a man in a game. The moment he earned the spotlight. The moment of orgasm every man would kill for. That was until he decided to be the saviour rather than finisher. He's naturally like to save better than to kill. The fact was, everyone was reluctant to guard the posts. You cannot blame them to be fair, since practically you're a shoting target when you're guarding the posts. People barely mind the aim and prefer the power. And you have to take it., sometime with your head or your manly dirty organ. Long story short, instead of waiting for a spotlight, you're literally living dangerously, trying to stand the pain and fear all through the game. It's not a dirty job though. For the consolation, he always convinces himself that God wouldn't give him a pair of hand if he didn't take the job, and for the change He would give him a pair of chicken wing so he could do chicken dance.
He had been doing it very well, and his team won like all the time. He felt like he could take everything thrown at him. He didn't remember the last time he failed to keep the ball out of his sacred nest from a starting kick. He was always focus and alerted. So was that night. His team was leading by miles. He began to look down the opposition. His heart was beating so slow. The excitement and the tense was gone with the wind. Especially, when his opposition who would take the starting kick had his footwear ripped.
The kicker would kick it bare footly. The boy smiled in jeer. In a split second the smile broke and the jaw dropped, as the canonball suddenly nested on the top corner. Not for long he ran accross vigorously to update the scoreboard, like a kid just have found the toy he'd been looking for so long.
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i rate 7,5 out of 10
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