11 Sep 2009
The slippery ball rolled fast and furious outside the white line. To be only declared "out" by the referee. The opponent team’s captain gleefully came forward to take it, for a free hit. The captain of my team could only watch in horror and fear, drenched in cold sweat, since the other captain was the best player of the tourney. It didn't help that we were lagging behind by two goals.
As soon as the other captain took the outside, my captain snatched the ball from him and passed it to me. I ran with it and kicked it with all my force. A gooooaaaaal! Yay! We now had to score only one more to level. But, hey, the referee pointed it out as a foul! Our joy instantly faded. We were all grim. I was feeling horribly guilty. For letting the entire team down! The other team was getting ready to take the foul's free kick. Again. Oh no.
Our hearts sank. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead onto my cheek. The referee blew the whistle. The opponent team's captain came forth to take the foul. I closed my eyes out of fear. And then I just blanked out. I heard a sharp shrill ringing. The referee's whistle? Snapping me out of complete darkness.
I quickly opened my eyes to find myself on my bed in my room, drenched in cold sweat. My alarm had come to rescue me from this nightmare.
Me and football? I’d say that’s impossible. And it wouldn't be a great surprise if I ended up making only foul hits in this tacky game!
Current Mood: Outa Control... Crazy
Current Music: Apologize - One Republic
Currently Reading: Agatha Christie - Murder is Easy
Recent Movies: Quick Gun Murugun!