That One Shot

My cleats dug into the matted grass and my hair was plastered against my forehead with sweat, dirt and wind. My legs were tired, burning from all the running I had done as the right-forward.
I remember I liked doing that, pursuing my opponents relentlessly. It gave them a scare, and made them wary of me as I came in to attack. I must have felt quite a rush because I would keep on doing it, until I overtook them.
I looked over to one of my teammates, who passed me the ball instantly. I felt the ball bounce lightly off the inner side of my right foot. I pressed forward, dribbling between two oncoming defenders.
I looked up and saw the net of the goal, and my laces made hard contact with that black and white ball, sending it flying and spinning. I did not care if people were shouting. I did not care that the rest of the defensemen were running towards the ball in the air, and I did not care that the goalie was staring at the ball, running to try and block it.
All I could hear and feel was the beating of my heart, and the pulse that coursed through my body, as I stared at the spinning ball, blurring towards the goal and the goalie.
What happened next? That does not matter. What does matter is that I was able to give a shot that would change the course of a game. There is at least one of these in each game, even if they miss. An incredible tension comes over the player as he watches the ball sail, as if it was now in God’s hands, and he had no more control over where it would go. I remember this feeling. I felt helpless as I watched, noticing it curve but not sure if it would miss the intended target or not. I almost gave up hope right at that moment.
Soccer is a sport that has been around my life for a long time. It has been a part of everyone’s life whether they like it or not. The United States has a soccer team that has been able to reach the final tournament, the World Cup. Even though, a good deal of the population may not be aware of it.
Then there are the countries where soccer is not just a sport or a game, but a way of life. It is a passion like no other. The victory of a soccer game, especially in a tournament like the World Cup, is like a victory in a war over another country. I grew up in a country like that, Mexico. I had friends who loved watching soccer, or even listening to it on the radio. There is pride in the game, especially when their country is being represented against the world.
When a soccer-loving country watches a game in a stadium, the cheer of the crowd is unbelievably loud and constant. Whether you are a soccer player or a fan, the sheer volume is enough to get anyone’s blood pumping.
When I watched the Mexican team play in the World Cup, I knew that I was not the only one. We all watched the game and supported the team as a country. We would watch the ball, while the player looked forward for an opening to attack or a fellow player whom they could pass their weapon. The other team would close in, blocking off and protecting their goal. Still, all it takes is one charge between the defensive players, and one well-placed shot to change the course of the game. At the same time, we would sit there, watching the game, our eyes on the tactics and the skills of each team.
It reminded us of our own soccer experiences, and our own well-placed shots that may have changed the course of the game. Sometimes we can change the course of the game in our favor, and sometimes we can give the enemy a chance to counterattack. It is the way the game is played. That one shot, chokes the air as it runs over it.
I fell to my knees, sighing in relief as I watched the ball slam silently against the net.