Taken for Granted

Chapter 5 - College

First Year

I'm running at full speed down the wing. Our midfielder spots my run and hits a long pass. But it is intercepted by an opposing defenderwho kicks the ball up and out of bounds for a throw-in. This is the final of the football tournament at the Inter-College Sports Fest hosted by L.B.S. College. I rush to the touch line to take the throw. This is the only game I've been allowed to play in the entire tournament. Not because my football skills lacked, but because our college Football Coach happens to be the cousin of our disgraced PE Sir from school, who got transferred following the Den of Degenerates scandal. I throw the ball to our wing back. He passes it to the midfielder who, in turn, dribbles it past his opposing team counterparts and leads a skillful attack. He slips the ball through to the forward near the penalty area and our striker has a clear shot on goal. He shoots and the ball ends up in the net. Goal! Or so we thought until we notice the side line referee's flag parallel to the ground. Off side. The goal is disallowed and our opponents get a goal kick. Their ensuing buildup is great and we almost concede; however our goalkeeper is to thank for punching the ball away from goal and past our goalpost. A corner kick is taken which is collected quickly by our keeper and the ball is kicked into midfield. The forward who had dropped back receives it and passes it to me on his second touch. I receive the ball and freeze, unknowing what to do. I stare around blankly and the opposing defender is onto me in no time, snatching the ball and knocking me over in the process. The referee mistakenly blows for a foul. I'm still dazed on the ground and am carried to the touchline for treatment. The paramedic flashes a small torch into my eyes one after the other. He then holds his finger out and moves it from side to side, asking me to focus on it. The examination is interrupted by our Football Coach who orders that the process be wound up quickly. The paramedic presses at different parts of my head and quickly leaves.

"You are exhibiting those symptoms again." The Football Coach begins.

I don't say a word.

"I knew I shouldn't have let a drug addict on the team." He paces around "God knows who else you've hooked onto it."

I feel a sudden urge to punch him.

"You get five more minutes of playtime. Then I'm bringing you off." And with that he walks away.

I reflect on what he said. I have been getting these body and mind freezes ever since I stopped taking drugs. I kept my habit a secret and never sought professional help. I thought I'd be fine but I guess rehab may have made the recovery process a lot easier. It's been nearly two years since I stopped using... but I still get these body and mind freezes where I blank out completely. I used to think that the Football Coach had a vendetta against me, but now I can see that anyone would be concerned with having a former drug addict on the team. And given he doesn't even know that I've stopped using.

"You good to play?"

I look up and realize it's the linesman asking me if I want to continue playing.

"Yeah." I get up.

The ball has gone out for a corner kick and I rush towards the opponent's penalty box where my teammates are crowding. A defender marks me and keeps a grip on me.

The referee blows for the corner to be taken and our wing back makes the run up and kicks the ball towards the penalty area.

The defender marking me is a really rough player. He throws me in an almost wrestler-like fashion, sending me in the air crashing towards the ground. The goalkeeper jumps in reaction to the oncoming ball. I feel a knock on my head before breaking my fall with my hands. I look up and see all my teammates celebrating. It takes me a moment to realize what happened: the goalkeeper couldn't catch the ball and it bounced off his hands, and as I was being thrown, the ball came right before my head and the momentum from my fall caused me to knock the ball straight into the goal. All players gather around me in celebration. As we walk back to the half-line everyone remarks on "...what a spectacular diving header it was!" I smile at the irony of it.