The ball rolled slightly over the edge of the white line that indicated a goal and the quiet was replaced with joyous yells.
The victors ran across the field screaming in joy.
"Damn.. sad."
I thought as I watched the poor goalkeeper shaking.
I scanned the field.
We had a bunch of interesting second years, to have beat their seniors so quickly- even if only by a goal- but in soccer- a goal is a goal
However last minute, weak or plain pathetic-
You can literally win the whole thing by having that ball cross a certain threshold.
And that alone can take 90 minutes of constant effort, and years of prior training.
And that really adds some damn edge to this game.
It's great to watch but not great to play for someone like me.
I was still huffing. But it suited like snowfall on Christmas for a certain someone.
That certain someone being my best friend- who was now running like a bull at the goal keeper.
On another thought..nevermind. He isn't really suited for this.
He'd be the kind of snowfall that blocks traffic on Christmas
As much as Ethan Harley craves running on this field, he runs alone. That's his problem with soccer.
As much as goals contribute to victory, there are other factors like fun, teaming and skill, but Ethan is like a boar who will run headlessly at his goal.
Not just soccer..but everything.
"YOU LITTLE TWAT" He growled in his metallic voice that sounded like it would effortlessly scare the pants off someone.
Ethan's terror hadn't changed a bit, what miracle had I expected from the week of my absence even. It would be difficult for even a heavenly intervention to change Ethan.
"Bastard, if you can't handle a ball that easy, why the fuck do you stand here" He yanked at the goalkeeper's collar, his jacked arm effortless raising him up in the air, himself standing well over six feet.
All those boxes he carries on his part time job really serves huh, how else would his broke ass lift so easily?
He's got no cash for a decent pair of 44 pound dumbells, let alone gym.
The goalkeeper struggled haplessly.
As much as me and everyone on the field felt sorry for him, we could barely do a thing, as dread loomed over us.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed first years shaking in their jerseys, not allowed to play official matches yet so they'd just practice with us until they were promoted to second year and qualify to join the varsity.
Considering the pace of things, I bet many would just reconsider.
Ethan's height and bulky figure did play a role to intimidate, but his personality was no spring either.
Besides he has these blood red curls that everyone assumed were dyed in rebellion- but only a few knew that was just a genetic mistake.
The kind of mistake where some fellow tipped colour on a blank piece of paper and turned it into art.
How do you even call it a mistake. Don't we need a word for beautiful mistakes?
So basically even if you strip him naked, you'll still see red.
