I was stuck in it, was quite a crunching tackle. My legs just gave away. I couldnt really raise myself again. The grass was a soft bed with an occasional pebble here and there. The game had gone nasty from the time I passed the ball. I couldnt really free myself, the number of times I tried to break free is the times I got stuck in a frenzy of calls and runs. I couldnt really pick a person out. Thats when it happened, I decided to take matters in my own hands, actually the feet. I I was tired of being bullied and thus decided to go on my own. I did so, swept past my marker and went flying towards the goal only to see the goal-keeper charge at me with full commitment. I couldnt think much, a guy twice your size charging like a pit bull as if he just saw red. Well he did, I was wearing a red jersey. All the creativity went for a toss. The Midfield Mozart in me was about to out fox him. I tried to sweep past, but it was too late. I was already pounced upon by this gargantuan goalie and completely crushed under his weight. I was caught gasping for air as I tried to get up and he kicked at me and said, 'Stop panting like a
Bi@tch and play some real football, chicken'.
This enraged me further, now I couldnt take it no more. I was more determined to score past him and the chances were coming thick and fast but he was standing like a huge log holding this beaver built dam. I still cant figure out wether it was frustration or the beer yesterday night which was doing the trick. Was I the only one they were marking? I mean we are the lowest ranked team in the league, gimme a break. What harm can we bring to strong teams in the league. Ofcourse the David beat Goliath but these guys were stronger than that. Got tackled twice I went flying outside the touch-line. The Feather weight catagory I fall in, eminent was in the coming.
I cut through 2 midfielders before I could see another red shirt screaming for the ball. Suddenly from behind the guy who woke me up for the match shouted, 'down the channel', caught in two minds I took the easier way out pass to this guy overlapping me so that I dont get fired if the cross is incorrect. Again I see the defender jamming into me like a truck hitting the crossing roadrunner. Coyote caught the roadrunner, again & again. Suddenly I shouted, 'For heaven's sake we are old people, don't believe in violence'. I dont know why, the defender smiled at me slyly and I couldn't really think, what next to do. My legs were killing me because of all the running that I had done. 38th minute now, I still didn't know I would ever be able to cross the ball. The defender pointing at me and laughing for the most shittiest of crosses I would have ever come up with, I rationalized by thinking atleast I was able to cross the ball, so what if it over shot and the defender at the other end started a counter attack which resulted in a goal eventually. My head hung like a beer fed belly. My Captain screwing me for not crossing correctly when we were going all out in attack. The defenders couldnt do much they were at the half-line.
Basically, it was a blame game, younger you are the more screwed you get for mistakes. There is no learning curve, is there one at all. Our strikers were not even getting the scraps which we would throw at them sometimes while playing against the other teams. These guys were getting furious for the service that we were giving them. I was happy to say the least, cause atleast now I was not passing to the opposite team directly. Now my involvement was more indirect. Frustration was only one thing the team was good at, but still we were here to play football, we didnt mind if our hand hit the ball and the referee didnt see it. Mind games had begun much before the match and the inevitable was in the coming. One of the midfielders went down and that gave us a break. A much needed one for most of the smoke filled lungs of my captain and the defence. Panting he said, 'Dude, get open'
'I cant' I said 'he gets onto me in a flash'.
'Pussy'
'No I am not, atleast I am able to put an odd cross'.
'Oh Screw it, just play the game'.
Thus back in the game. 5 minutes to break I was fired hearing the verbal abuse, I wanted to kill my Captain, my manager. I hated him and the feeling was same on the other side. So it was my birthright to prove him wrong. Moron, cant play for nuts and is the captain. The world is not fair. Otherwise how can one justify the salary he was gettin for all the shit that was doing at office too. The world is just not fair. Anyways, I was only determined enough to prove him wrong. Thus started the saga, as soon as I got the ball I started going faster and faster till a point when I saw the defender with me was about to take my legs out, I jumped high and leapt past him. He was stunned at this, so was I. I never knew I could do that, so the mind was caught again and this time the goalie charged. The chicken within me crooned hard and I just passed the ball away towards the left which was towards the center of the goal. Ironically the team's striker got in front of the defender and touched the ball. The goalie now stunned cause he never expected me to do that, I never expected myself to do that. 'Wow' I said as soon as I passed. Goalie looked at me. The ball rolled into the goal and the striker went berserk. He stripped and flinged his jersey at a girl in the crowed. I mean 4 people who came to cheer a losing team which I belonged to. The girl was apparently his girlfriend. I still am awaiting mine, so lesser said the better.
Now chest size 30 inches clash and bullets could bounce off without a sting. I was brimming with confidence and the ref blew the whistle. We were happy or contented hear the music of the whistle. My manager came up with more words of confidence. It was 1-1 and it seemed we could snatch a win if their strikers didnt fire, which they were doing very effectively. 13 shots at the goal would prove my point, but in the end they werent scoring which had to be underlined. So is it this voice the voice of my manager, my captain I talk of no its not.
My manager begun the second half by thumping the ball in the opponents half. They attacked and attacked; wave after wave. We were just defending, now came the most interesting part. We never touched the ball in the initial 15 mins of the second half. My goalie urged us to step up, and we did only to find that he was alone facing 3 strikers in his face anyways, its the idea which is more important. Coming back to the match. I finally got the ball cut one, cut two flying down the right wing when I realized that the ball is quite far from me and I am supposed to cross in three strides. The defender from nowhere fling himself from behind as I just stretched to cross the ball.
My misery ended as I lay there on the sweet patch of grass counting the stars, planets, bees, moon & ofcourse the odd comet. Its quite amazing when you are hurt what all you can see. I even saw a train and my beloved waving goodbye & me running behind cause I just missed the train, my hair all scrambled, my clothes still shabby and ofcourse while running I am also trying to put my belt on. A million times doing the same thing while trying to get to the company transport, and missing it as many times. It must have been a boon, it was a pretty ugly match or so I heard. We did manage to get a penalty since their defender manged to handle the ball rather than kick it, and to my surprise my captain did manage to score. Now I dont know how, call him up for explaination.
I was, lifted off the pitch with 24 minutes to spare. The green cloth draped stretcher was the only thing I remember after that. I didnt care wether the defender was yellow or red carded or what. I was deep in pain, like an Indian in the Tintin cartoon walking or sleeping on needles. More they shook the stretcher, more pale I went with pain. I coudnt move the only thing moving me were the people. I was deep into shock, didnt knew what was happening. I longed to hear someone. It was something I wanted to listen to but since it was morning and didnt want to disturb her, I didnt. Her voice echoed from the only etched part of my memory. Discreetly remembering the way she smiled on recieving her gift. One of the few cherished memories of her I brought with me when I came to this fudging place. Her silken soft voice like Daffy's to Donald, her singing, the childish conversations and many more. It kept coming back to me.
The Madrasi Doctor, calling out to me was the only time, I realised I was not with her right now. He was taping the hamstring. The tighter he bound the tape the more excruciating I felt. Thousand ice cold daggers piercing my thighs and calves. 'The yamstring injuries waar the toughest to caarry' he said. I paid attention for all I knew he would amputate my leg, but then what the heck, it was paining a lot I might have just taken that option. The more he went on, the more I felt like taking the easier way out. I was surprised to see my manager standing there. The captain of the side, the man with a fully blown chest and hair oozing out. Girls, not a pretty sight I would say. He said, 'boy, I think you need a lift back home'. 'Sure' came back a lightening quick reply. Anything to put that guy into misery the dude had screwed me at work many a times and now was my turn. He stayed in the other end of the city and finally I got some satisfaction out of it. Sadistic pleasure to say the least. A 30 km drive for him. A roar went within. I messaged my beloved that I had suffered something horrible and just lay down thinking of her. Now its very strange the way these waves travel, she called back. I was just thinking of her then. My life utterly screwed, I was still thinking of the game and the way my captain described it to me. We are boys and we are mad about three things in life Money, Girls & Games. This time it was her on my mind as soon as I thought of the tackle. Power bomb from hell exactly thats how it felt. But the later much better, her thought, her voice, her smile. I am smitten I must say.
So she called a splash of tingle went through my body. Oh wait, nope, it was my friend, he was trying to figure out how bad it was. Then again, the sweet voice. Calmness struck me and I could rest better. I hadnt spoken to her since morning. The Beaver's Dam, the rushing truck, the flaunting captain, I was hearing and seeing a lot of things when I was palying and down. I mean I could hear the distinct train whistle, or was it the referee's whistle, who cares. The stars, the planets and the moons. Was it Jupiter's, does it seem I give a Fu@K . Bottomline I saw something. I was now talking to her trying to conceal as much pain I could. Not that I could but there was no ways I wanted her to know I was completely on the bed. Her voice, that of curiosity shaken with a lot of care and concern, remember not stirred. She put me off to sleep just like this passage. Incase you did laugh then, do leave a comment. Cheers, dont drink and drive, btw two of my friends just got no-bowled by chicks, thanks to me. Dont let that happen to you.
