On-Demand Fall

    It was an icy, chilly autumn morning. A small, salty droplet of sweat rolled down my cheek. My dark, smooth hair was covered in tiny droplets of rain, just like thin green grass covered in dew on a summer morning. I had been running around for a rock solid 45 minutes now, through the rough, challenging rain. I had been chasing the ball for the whole time, trying to prove to the team of my eligibility for the position I liked, to my demanding team, and coach, and pull my own weight, not depending on others. The weather was not on our side that particular day, and the harsh, challenging rain drenched us in rain, making us soaking wet. The forecast had predicted a slight drizzle, and I had not been prepared for this harsh autumn rain. I had not brought a poncho, or even an umbrella. The court had also been absolutely soaked in wet rain, and I was practically dragging my feet through the field. “Splish, splosh. Splish, splosh.” The team was originally leading by 2 cheeky goals, but our cockiness had betrayed us, and  3 rapid fire skillful goals from the opposing team caught us off guard, putting us in the worse position. Something had to be done. Our team was starting to become tired, and slowly the tempo was slowed, and dropped. The visible sun seemed to slowly hide itself behind the clouds, as if the universe was against our win. Our chances of winning were not looking too good. The whole team, understanding and negatively taking in the unfortunate truth, was suddenly discouraged, and none of us felt like fighting on, but instead giving up. Our opponents, on the other hand, were suddenly feeling gallant, and superior to us, and all of them had gleeful smiles on their faces. I could smell the disgusting scent of glee and sense of victory. It was simply pathetic. I knew that I had to prove myself, and at least not give up, or else I would be a disappointment of a teammate. It didn’t help that I was in one of the goal scoring positions, and had not scored a single goal this whole season, or even assisted a single goal. These negative thoughts seemed to eat up all positivity in my mind, and blocked the coach’s hollered commands from getting to my mind. Although I knew I had to concentrate on the game, and the game only, it was simply impossible. Enraged, our team was becoming sloppy, and predictable. Suddenly, without a second of hesitation, the opponents struck the ball upfield, and there were only a few meters between our own goal, and the ball, possessed by the opposing team’s best striker. He expertly controlled the bright blue ball, and made quick work of our defense, and was ready, and in a great position, to shoot. I held my breath. I could see a tiny fly with the corner of my eye, soaring up and down, pointlessly. I could see our coach opening his mouth, and swerving his hands on his head. All hopes and dreams of winning would be crushed in a few quick moments. I could see the striker ready his shot, aim, and fire. “Thunk!” The ball, just like an F1 racing vehicle out of control, soared through the air, swerved uncontrollably, baited our keeper, and quickly spun into the goal. It left us to rot in this deep, muddy sea of despair. I could hear the opponent’s coaches squeal in delight. The rain grew stronger, and the rain droplets were rapidly increasing in size. It was just one of those days. I could hear the cackle of crows in the distance, monotonously crowing, as well as a quick flash of lightning. The referee blew his whistle, signaling the game’s end. “TWEET” It was quite literally a game over for us. Although we hadn’t left anything visible on the field that day, we had indeed left something more important behind. It was our cockiness, and our dignity as a whole.