You are running hard, suddenly a tackle sends you flying, you yell ‘FOUL!’, but the referee unluckily did not see it and the game continues. You are left seething…
You are in Red; the other team is in Whites. You are surging forward with the ball, two whites emerge in front of you – seems difficult to get by them, out of the corner of your eye you see a speck of red in midfield, you fire in a cross, the balls lands perfectly – two feet in front of the red-speck, you crane your neck to see who it is? It is the referee 😐 You do not even know whether to laugh or to cry.
You are defending; the whites try to rifle a shot past you. You know it may be dangerous, yet you shoot out your leg and intercept the ball mid-air, transferring it to your teammates and also spraining your ankle. You hobble out of the game and start searching for the analgesic spray.
You are tired, exhausted, about to black out. But there are no more substitutions left. Five agonizing minutes more, second by second the time trickles. You have used up all your reserves; only the adrenaline helps you survive the last five minutes. The match ends, you just cross the boundary and collapse to the ground under the hard hot sun. You just lie on the ground for the next five minutes, trying to get energy to just reach the shade and lie there.
Everything is worth ‘it’ – the feeling you get when your team scores a goal, the feeling you get when you dribble a ball in mid-air, the feeling you get when you WIN.