1 - Sunday Game

I see how each one of their movements becomes meaningless. They’re running against the clock, and all their effort seems stupid, like if they suddenly forgot where the goal is or even what it is the purpose of the game. They’re losing, of course, and they certainly look like losers. Look to number 8, his arms hanging loose. He is definitely too tired to rise them up. The ball passes close to his feet but he only can catch a sight of it. The players at the bench aren’t going to solve anything: they wouldn’t win the game even if their life depends upon it. Number 17 is most interested in whatever is inside his nose that in the lame battle going on in the field.

They knew that this game was important. They started playing well or at least as well as they could. The other team was everyone’s favorite. Those lads have technique and skills. It looks like each one of them carries an extra lung. At the beginning the game was even. Heart compensated lack of skills. Courage made them get to places out of their reach and to win impossible balls. Number 9 almost scored twice but a just a little bad luck was enough to keep things tie.

At the end of the first half, the small crowd gathered together on this sunny Sunday morning started to believe that these boys had a real chance to win. The eyes of the supporters started to glow. Hope appeared in somebody’s chest and was growing slowly until it became noticeable. Another person felt it. At the beginning was surprised for that crazy idea of a victory, especially today, especially against this team, every trained eye’s favorite. The third person started to dismiss the odds and wonder about how many times people had being wrong and about he being wrong all the time. He recalled that episode late last night when he couldn’t find the book he was reading and he blamed his wife. But then he realized he took it to the office and he let it there. At one moment he was so sure about where the book was. As soon as the game finish, he promised himself to apologize.

When the sixth person felt it, she screamed something to inspire the team. Everybody was surprised but it didn’t take long to hear more voices replying. All of them were shouting and the next step was a logical one: the noise coming from the crowd got to the pitch. The hearts of these boys started to pump even faster. They could win the match. After all, they were humans, the bodies designed in the same form, sharing weakness. It was about stretching the boundaries. They had to go and get it. It was possible, number 4 said to number 7, without opening his mouth. And when each of them embrace that hope; they felt that once again they were responsible. The sound coming from the supporters made their passes more accurate and the tackles stronger. But in that moment the other team scored.

Is different the feeling of having something and losing it that if you never knew that something. I followed all the path of hope in them and I saw how, as soon the ball cross the line, everything collapsed. Nor even a better coach could do something about it. They believed on themselves and were disappointed. Still five minutes to go, they already lost the game. In the way back home, their faces are going to be two time sad and this sorrow is barely going to fit in their five years old chests.