A Dream – creative writing

whiz by one we stepped of the bus later a comfortable nap on the red beds situated at the end of the bus. I was last to impersonate aside, I had a view of perpetual banalness in my legs, I matt-up shaky and nervous. At first I couldnt think ab forth what I was going to do on the pitch, on the whole I thought ab let on was after the match. As we offered down the tunnel, I saw framed pictures of legends such as Bobby Charlton, Denis fair p stick and Eric Cantona. The sense of I could be one of them filled my empty designate full of impossible thoughts. The tunnel was painted red and white, our home colors, the colours of victory.It was very long alone you could inspect in the darkness was the mark at the end of the tunnel akin little green spikes they stuck out of the ground with light catching glimpse of their strong straight organic structure. The tonus of the hazy grass from down the tunnel went up my nose and in short r for each oneed my brain to intensify my nerv es level(p) more. It was quite a walk down to the home changing rooms. On the way I was greeted by many a(prenominal) enthusiastic fans nevertheless instead of helping me, this made me even so shakier and plunge further into my lethargy. I couldnt understand this as I had comely had a two-hour nap.I silently entered the freezing cold changing rooms, which were purportedly painted white to give each player a bland feeling, checked my watch and looked undecomposedly. I entangle numb, the feeling of expectation had got to me, the declination in my body began to freeze and I couldnt hear anything. After a few moments the hirer put his arms around me and I came out of my sense of humor. All the players were lively, each one getting changed, concentrating on their own thoughts and supernatural pre-match rituals and superstitions. All foc utilize on the one thing that re eithery mattered winning.When everyone was ready, the chieftain started talking. He said that we be sho uld our best and all other things a managers says to make their players comfortable. To be honest with you I wasnt listening somehow the things he said unspoiled went into one ear and out of the other akin an elephant talking to a cat. All I listened to was the roars and scream of the passionate fans hold who started on their usual tones. I think the boss new I wasnt concentrating. He suddenly walked towards me and patted me on the rear with his warm, big-palmed hands. As he did this I felt a big burden on my back.I felt as If I was carrying a big box full of millions of hopes and desires. As we walked out of the changing rooms we were joined by the away team, who all looked irregular. I was the captain for today so I was at the former of the team. The captain for the away team looked serious he was tall with huge shoulders, had scruffy black hair, had a cold white face like a newly chilled corpse and stank of rubber. Funny I heard he had two left feet. Now adrenaline had bo unceed in and excitement had begun. We started late walking out to the stadium and soon we got faster and faster until we were jogging.The displace was ecstatic. The stadium was jam-packed and all I could see was a sea of twinkling bulbs from the photographers. The crowd started chanting my name and soon a feeling of unwellness from the grass hit me hard. I walked slowly to the sum of money circle, with the ball at my feet. I looked at the other team, they all looked serious and some looked at me with spite. All of their players were bigger than us al or so Herculean in stature, most of them had short black hair and muscled legs like an army of action-man dolls. I took my feet off the ball and put my worn out boots into the soft, sturdy green grass.Everyone was in their positions and the whistling was blown, we were off The tin whistling went and it was half time, we were 2-0 down and everybody was disappointed. In the changing rooms, it was very quiet. Not really because of anyone save because of our performance, we were being stuffed. No-one was talking. The gaffer didnt lay into us. He didnt have to. We all knew we were playing rubbish. It was without delay going to be like a cat and mouse chase. The expression on each players face said it all really. I was just thinking of what I was going to do. Could I pull it off? Could I do the unimaginary?Could I.. I couldnt understand why we were playing so badly but I had an epiphany, it must be because of their lazy useless captain non giving enough support. me I was going to pull it off I told myself. I was going to do the unimaginary. I was going to I gave a huge shout of encouragement to all the players like a commander rallying his weary troops. I slowly turned my conduct to face the other team. They all looked happy, as if this was a stroll in the park, as if they thought it was all wrapped up, as if they thought they had me all worked out, but had they?The whistle blew once more and we were off It was the 80th routine and we scored. It was better late than never. The ball rattled the net, and bounced on the floor a few times like a bouncy ball time lag to be caught. The crowd went mad. The player, who scored, picked up the ball after a little melee with the goalie who tried to stop him. He jogged back to the centre circle with the ball, with one hand in the air, appreciating the support the fans were giving him. The whistle was blown once more and we were off again The final whistle went it was 2-2. We scored in the last dying seconds of the match.All content with ourselves we trudged off to the gaffer and sat down on the pitch. I as yet couldnt get my stage around the smell of the grass, warm and comforting like high summers. The gaffer sent all the coaches to massage the life back to our limbs. I could see that even the fans were tired, hoarse and emotional from their unswerving enthusiasm, as most of their voices had today gone from all the shouting, but I guessed it had helped as we were notwithstanding in this match. Now the tables had turned, as I looked at the other team, they were all tired and didnt have a grin on their face any more.The whistle was blown louder than before this time and again we kicked-off Extra-time ended and scores were still 2-2 and everyone looked dead beat. We kept looking at the referee as we just wanted this to end. We were under pressure and running scared. Many times I thought it might be over but I still kept my head held high as I thought I had done a pretty good job, being the captain of a previously sinking ship, though with my skill, we had avoided the metaphorical iceberg. As we were walking back to the referee, the players had their heads down, as if they were out of this.I guess this was mostly because of what was to follow, penalties The gaffer had a little notebook and pencil in his hand as he was going round asking each player if they wanted to run through a penalty, it reminded me of what had happen ed last time I was here. Most of them just stood still and were too shocked and scared to say anything. Although he never came around to me, I was on the list. I guess I had to take one, or be blamed if we lose. They missed one and scored the rest, we had scored all our penalties up to now.Their fans had now got restless and started booing their own team it showed how fickle 56,000 fans empennage be in times of need. Their manager looked disappointed, for all the training they had put in, wasnt going to help. One more player was left to take a penalty me, if it went in, we won, and if it didnt accordingly more penalties would follow. I slowly started making my way to the ball. Half way, I stalled, I stood still but it seemed time had stood still. This time there was no-one near to put their arms around me to help me to come out of this mood again.My whole body froze and cold chills were sent to my brain. I looked forward and all I could see was the goalie looking nervous, billboa rds gaudily advertising a shirt brand and the thousands of faceless fans. Fans were screaming and shouting my name, I felt proud to be leading my team. My boots were frozen into the soft ground. No relationship was felt at my toes and my knees were giving way as if my fit and tones body had been replaced by an arthritic and wizened shell. I couldnt stand any longer. in that respect was no life left in my body. I was nervous I was scared as I was remembering the last penalty shoot-outs.I had walked steadily to the ball and had concentrated on where I was going to kick it. The goalkeeper had gone the right way and my shot was stopped to the transfer of the away supporters. They had won the cup. This was the same match, the same cup, the same away team, but would it be the same outcome. I returned to the present. My stomach was still frozen seek for any water left in my parched body, any life line left to give, any kin left to melt. My neck wouldnt twitch and my Adams orchard appl e tree felt frozen, I couldnt speak as my mouth was so dry that I felt my lips were being savaged off.My head was stiff my face was minute cold white and my brain full of ghastly thoughts (I still couldnt get over what had happened the last time I was here). The fans started making their voices heard even more by intensifying the stadium with their passion, something not many heap can give, something only a true fan possesses. Nerve receptors in my body didnt accredit which way to feast and no warm blood could be felt anywhere around my body except my ears. even so they wouldnt twitch, only the sound of screaming entered my ears, the sound I had heard many times throughout my lifetime.As a child I was mistreated by my violent father, who beat me every time I lost a match. Thats why football is my life. It has always meant everything I would scream in my bedroom but my mother was too scared to do anything approximately it, she too couldnt stand in my fathers way. It took me unt il I was sixteen to stand up to him and kick him out of the house. I was bullied in school for not having a father, for not having many friends, for not having any football talent. I used to be called footballer wannabe this infuriated me so much that all I concentrated on throughout my school years was football.And now what can those measly kids say to me, captain of a famous team, playing in a cup-final. Again my mind returned to the present. My body still stalled me, I didnt know what to do, either to let my knees give way, or stand there postponement for a lifeline to be found from the empty abyss shortly I heard the gaffer shout come on ma lad, you can do it. I woke of this terrible moment and blood started to flow again around my body. I coolly walked up to the ball, stepped back a few paces and ran as fast as I could towards the ball, hit it as hard as possible and stare. The ball rotated in mid-air and traveled towards the goal..