Roar

                                    Small town kid, doesn’t know the city tricks; Called in late from the bench for all the matches in the academy he plays in because he is a newbie from a deadbeat town. Called 'Spaz' because his boots are old and he sometimes seems cold.  Every time he eyed a mirror he seemed to stop and stare, not that the kid was narcissistic, he was looking at the image he was becoming. Hit after hit, rejection after rejection, he had grown accustomed to fighting his way out. The kid was all game.

                                   When he was there out in the field nothing else in the world mattered, it was the ball and the air around him. He played as if the ball at his feet was his heart beating within. When he fell, he rose up even stronger. He ran miles every morning with music in his ears. He passed people, restaurants and cafes. All was a blur to him. He saw something that was invisible to them. He kept running towards it. Sometimes he could see it slipping away, but he couldn’t see himself giving up. He accelerated behind it. He kept it in sight, it helped him take insults and kept him awake at night. This was his destiny.

                                     His alarm blared him awake, it read 4:30, it was dark outside but he couldn’t sleep anymore, he could not think of sleep now. Today is his day, today is the day he showed the world how much he loved this game, it is the day he owns the game, this beautiful game. He put on his sweatshirt from home and headed towards the academy. Everything from then on was a fast forwarded scene his mind kept shifting to the game he is going to be playing, to the chips and crosses, to his goal and to the cheer that will erupt from the crowd, to the surging sense of addiction he will feel towards the game!

                                     The referee blew the whistle for the start of the game, he snapped out of his fast-forwarded dream. He sat in the dugout, substitute he was but he could not take his eyes off the ball, could not stop formulating plans for getting the ball past the defense. He swayed impatient he wanted to be there making the play and grooving the game to his will. But he waited. Then, his time came.   

                                       His coach looked at him and said “you go in 28”. There it was the day he was waiting for. He shook his head and started warming up he denied to speak even a word. Inside he kept playing the match he lost back home again and again like he usually did before he starts to play. The hundred other ways he would have won the match, the thousand other strategies but it was the past he thought, today, he will not let that happen again. In the field he will celebrate the game that helped him survive, that gave him hope and life. Then the substitution was made.

                                            There he found it. In the centre of all the chaos, static and clashes, he found his place. His heart and mind had become one, it saw only the ball and nothing else he ran towards it. He was open ready to make the play. His team-mate passed him the ball. Then, it was a dashing with the wind. He did not see who stood before him, to him they were walls ready to be brought down now. He broke through the defense and advanced this was his day! He kept looking ahead, he didn’t notice the attack, and they stole the ball!

                                            He tumbled down but it foolish to think that he would stop! He moves on again from square one. He did it once he can do it again. He can do it and take the tumbles again and again till he got it right! So, the kid again started to move again. The minute he stole the ball again he was aflame. He was not giving the ball up this time. He slipped past the attacks and cajoled his way through the defense! There it was the moment he waited for! For years this scene he had created in his head and replayed it along with failures and mistakes the way he taught himself and pushed himself. It all came down to this, he took in a breath and crossed the ball towards the goalpost. He stood there watching the football come alive! He watched as the goalie struggled to stop his conviction, years of sacrifice and dedication. The ball was inside the line, it was safely home for him. The kid had no celebration to make. He just pointed eastwards, which was homewards for him and continued to play. He played in silence but to those who watched him he roared!