The Last Kick
“It’s said that your life flashes before you when you are close to death.
As I stepped back slowly for the run-up after placing the ball delicately on the marked spot, I could see fuzzy images of the past in my head, leading up to that very moment. Days of tireless running under the scorching sun and sleepless nights curled up inside the blanket came to me as swirling memories. Every day and night, be it home, school, or anywhere else, it had always been football. And nothing else really mattered. Which was why that kick mattered more than the world to me.
As I took my first step forward, all the thoughts from the past seemed to disappear as the goalpost became the only thing I could see, and as I concentrated on it, it seemed to shrink. My heart pounded against the inside of my t-shirt. The palpitations felt almost seismic. Each beat grew louder and longer as time slowed down. It was the longest three seconds of my life. I could distinctly hear the strained breathing and nail-biting of my teammates and opponents alike. I felt so alive I couldn’t compose my emotions, let alone process my thoughts.
Should I go left, or right? Top or bottom? For power or placement? Lace or finesse it? Which way will the keeper dive? What if I missed? What if I didn’t score? I have to score. What should I do?
Scenarios played and replayed in my head, as I tried to sort out the optimum solution. The consequence of missing was getting knocked out which absolutely meant one thing — there was no scope for error. The feeling was so immense that I didn’t realize until then that I was now at the ball not yet decided on where or how to shoot. And then I made contact with the ball. Time completely froze as my heart skipped a beat. There was perfect silence as everyone held their breath. Finally, the moment of truth.”
I stared into the distance, reminiscing the moment, as nostalgia overwhelmed me, leaving me at a loss for words.
“So, what happened? Did you score or not?” he asked.
Coming back to the present, I looked at him, into his eyes, and I knew, he wouldn’t understand. He did not have a clue as to what I was talking about. I looked into the glass of whisky in my hand and saw my own reflection in it. I smiled wistfully.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. Lifting up the glass to him, I declared, “Now, we drink to get high.”
