With excitement and fear, I walk onto the pitch

The crowds are intense; opposition is fierce,

The need to get flying is starting to itch,

I stop and just look for a while.

The crowds are still roaring, there's wind on my face

The nerves, the excitement, the fear and the longing

The beat of my heart is picking up pace,

I stop and just think for a while.

If my Dad could be here just to see this one game,

Would it really affect how I play it?

Would he stand in the crowds? Would he shout out my name?

Would he admit that I'm better than he was?

With a look to the stands I can make out his face,

Even though I know it isn't his,

I can feel drops of rain and their bitter taste,

Whistle's blown and the brooms are mounted.

Minute after minute no sign of the snitch,

Goal after goal is now scored,

Shouts, yells and cries radiate from the pitch,

Ravenclaw now take the lead.

With a huge crack of thunder, the heavens do cry,

With the cold and the wet and the lightning

As the rain beats down on me, I just want to cry,

But the Quidditch has got to be played.

Ravenclaw are ahead with a thirty point lead,

But I know that I wont let them win it,

And now spurted on with a great sense of greed,

I fly round as to spy the snitch.

With the desire to win and the speed of the chase,

The rain isn't there, I don't feel it,

But the bitter cold is and numb is my face,

I twist and I turn and I spin.

The Ravenclaw seeker is hot on my tail,

As we weave in and out of the chasers,

The teams are both even, please don't let me fail,

I miss a bludger by mere inches.

The storm is now raging with lightning and all,

The crowds are still screaming, I feel it,

The chasers look desperate, tired enough to fall,

I search for the snitch in the darkness.

I lead the seeker in and out of the beaters,

Suddenly; there! I can see it,

Before me but only a couple of metres,

'This one's for you, Dad, I swear.'

I hurtle towards it, my arm out before me,

My cloak is now stuck to my skin,

The Chasers have frozen, now all eyes are on me,

The snitch is mine for sure.

My icicle fingers now enclose around it,

The storm cannot steal my smile,

The match is now over - yes! - that's it - we won it,

The team yell out with glee.

Back on the ground, I look up to the sky,

I know that my father was with me,

I see the team coming and let out a sigh,

I throw the snitch up there to find him.

Running towards me I'm greeted by mirth,

Embraced by the players and fans,

'Oh, by the way, Dad, did you like what you see?

Tell me, am I better than you were?'

The storm now dissolves and the crowd disappears,

I listen on the wind for an answer,

The rain on my cheeks now look like tears,

I stop and just think for a while.