Frankly Told: Just One Chance
The stadium lights were burning bright. The crowd was deafening. The last minutes had everyone on their feet. Tears balanced on the eyelids of the passionate fans as their eyes remained glued to a ball that ran this way and that way across the field.
On the bench, the tension had everyone half-standing and half-seated. Every time the ball got to their half, they clenched their jaws like they were on a mission to break their teeth. They were not on the hot seat but it felt like they were on the field.
On the field, adrenaline was pumping through veins so much so that the fatigue that plagued them only felt like a drag in their sprints. Their shirts had become a second skin and their faces were waterfalls of sweat. They could hardly hear each other over the chants the crowds had started and they half relied on muscle memory to run their plays that couldn’t get through.
The coach held on so tightly to his clipboard, his knuckles whitened. On this game, he bet his career and on this team, he finally saw hope of bringing the trophy home. His team had come from below to win the hearts of fans and in the stands, they had acquired new fans within that 90-minute window.
Every whistle blow felt like the end and hearts were in an endless cycle of skipping beats. The scoreboard read equal and maintained so for the last 10 minutes of the game. The last goal nearly brought the team to tears but their captain pushed them to pick up and save the celebration for later. The ball kept playing touch and go with their dreams every time it got to a goalpost. Each goalkeeper was putting their all into keeping the ball from crossing their line.
The linesman’s assistant walked along the sidelines with a board, hastily written “5 minutes”. It was do-or-die. On the bench, his teammates could hardly watch. Some covered their faces with their hands but their fingers wouldn’t let them fully hide and they had one eye on the field. He, however, sat like a gun; cocked and ready. He watched the ball with the intensity of a hawk, calling almost every play with near-perfect accuracy.
The opposing team rushed the defence and slipped through the gaps to a clear shot on target but their keeper dove like a madman, the ball nestled neatly in his one outstretched hand. A risky save but anything was on the table now for so long as it stopped a goal. Picking himself up, he quickly looked for the opportunity and put the ball back in play.
Now in their hands, the team of misfits dribbled cautiously into the opponent’s half. The captain looked over at his strikers and nodded. Everyone in the team knew this was the last chance and should the opening just unveil itself, they would grab it and hold it like the last breath of oxygen.
At his signal, the team fell into formation and they took off towards the goal. Whilst it felt like the longest two minutes, everything seemed to move so fast. Before they knew it their captain was on the ground, writhing in pain and holding his shin. The whistle pressed pause on the clock and the first aid team rushed to the field.
The tension was palpable and the crowd hushed into murmurs. The coach jogged onto the field with his assistant and there seemed to be some discussions held before the small crowd dispersed. From the team's reaction, the situation was evident even before they saw it. The captain was gently lifted onto the stretcher and he was carried off with his leg wrapped with a splint.
A few gasps escaped from the crowd as the referee called for the ball. It was agreed that the tackle though tragic was legal and the game would continue from a throw-in to the team. The coach had lost all hope, evidenced by how low his energy seemed to drop. He walked up to the bench and stood in front of him.
“Are you warmed up?” he asked curtly.
“Yes sir,” he readily responded.
“Well, you’re on,” the coach said.
He struggled to take off his tracksuit pants as he jumped up. He stumbled as he got on to the claps from the crowd. He got into position and the whistle was blown to get the game back into the groove. The ball was thrown in and the clock was started once more, counting mere seconds. His teammates looked vehemently for openings passing here and there all around the opponent’s defense. He ran this way and that trying to lose his mark.
As if by fate, he broke through just as his teammate dribbled into his corner; a spot he had crossed in from so many times. Just like he had practised, he paced into the defence area and waited for the inevitable pass. Just as routine the ball came soaring in and he jumped right at the point he had run this play all those times when they had practised at home.
In the stands, everyone was on the edge of falling into the pitch. Everyone from mothers to fathers, boys to girls was yelling their heads off. Whether in opposition or support, it did not matter. He closed his eyes and saw this play out in his head. He twisted his head and opened his eyes to catch the ball entering into his air space. Behind him, he could feel his mark grappling to catch air like he had but it was too late.
He locked eyes with the ball and with his head, directed it to the top right corner with all his might. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the keeper take off toward that corner and dive just like he had so many times in that match. He had begun his descent by the time the keeper dove for the ball. As he landed, he heard the whistle go and watched as the ball slipped in, missing the keeper’s gloves by a whisker.
As the last trill of the whistle went off, the weight of his action dawned on him. It truly was his moment and all the hours had snowballed into this very goal. Life as he knew it had changed from that moment. From that chance.
Just one chance.
