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The Final Whistle

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It’s tied 2 to 2 in the final game
I see the ball coming now, it’s only me the ball and the goal.
The closer it gets the deeper I get into a meditated state of mind
Blocking all noises out
The balls too high to trap and to low too head
So I jump and swing my leg around, almost as if in slow motion
My mind creating the perfect formula for excellence
Then the next thing I know I’m on the grass with thoughts of success running through my mind
I look back and all hopes drop as if I’m falling in an endless pit
The ball is nearly 3 feet to high and over the goal already
I look away too disappointed to see the ball land anywhere but in the back of the net
As I adapt back to hearing, everyone is on their feet screaming
Quick
I look just in time to see the ball curve so much I wonder if David Beckham could make such a curve
The ball goes in, barley missing the pole
Everyone is cheering and screaming on the sidelines
While everyone on the field is shocked, especially me
Over the loud boom of my heart I hear nothing but, the whistle blown by the referee
Declaring my team as blue grass tournament champions
And my goal as the winning score
The whistle normally doesn’t mean anything more than a victory or a loss
But now it is the bells to my heart sprinkling joy through my whole body
And declaring a life long goal broken at age 10; scoring off a bicycle kick





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