My Happy Places

The Football Pitch

In America, we call it the soccer field. But the correct term is the 'football pitch'. It's so lush and green, (most of the time). So beautiful, so appealing, it calls my name, and the number on the back of my jersey. It's so calm and tranquil in this state. As soon as that whistle blows though, it becomes a battle field. The physical exertion put on one's body is immense. Ankles, knees, head, hips, thighs, calves, feet, and torso. Pushed to the limit. Blood, sweat, and even tears are shed on this grass. What for? you ask. The final score is a "measly" 1-0. But that 1 goal, it makes all the difference. The difference between a joy filled win. Or a heart breaking loss. I can only get better at this gane called soccer. Always learning new tricks, moves, and intricacies of the sport. I enjoy the challenge of it all. The sense of control with the ball at my feet. The sense of challenege when a defender steps up to meet me. The sense of pride when I get passed them. The sense of sureness as I take the shot that it will be on target. And the sense of pure exuberance when the back of the net bulges and I know my aim was true. That is MY happy place!