Murder on the Pitch

Duality of Man

 "What a shot! By the veteran!" a deafening William Marsden yelled.. "Listen to this crowd roar! Darren Yugo the Serbian legend! With the go-ahead goal in the 77th minute!"

Isaac Shaw just sat there slumped over elbows on his knees stunned. He placed a cold towel on the back of his neck and draped it over his head confining – protecting himself from his self-loathing in a time when he should be happy now he feels depressed. He knows he currently lacks the skills like Darren to pull a shot like that off but Gregory turned around to ease the tensions in this rookie's mind

"Hey Isaac," Gregory said standing

Gregory was already up on his two feet before the goal was confirmed. He walked over to the sulking Isaac

"You want to know what he told me before running onto the field?" Gregory said

"What?" A monotone Isaac quietly replied

"He told me he would get the next one. And look at what just happened he did it. He was pissed not starting and when you got that header before the half he was even more pissed."

"Really?"

"Am I the one to Bullshit you?"

"No Gaffer."

"Good. Now stop sulking. Keep your head up and smile their probably camera's on us. You don't want your parents to see you like this. Right?"

"No, they probably won't."

"Good. You're a rookie you still have time to improve. Beck's wasn't the superstar he became in his rookie year, just focus and improve that's all I can say. Now, the game's not over yet. There are still 12 minutes left until stoppage time. Put on a happy face and cheer for the men on the field."

Isaac took a deep breath and more confidently replied back

"Yes, Gaffer."

"Good."

For the next 12 minutes, Essen had possession of the ball for 10 minutes of it. Most of the time they were passing well above the penalty arc waiting for an open alley to run down and hopefully find an open player but the Rowland players kicked it out of bounds or up to the midline every time. Whenever a corner kick occurred Tikhonov would always punch the ball away or Vilbergseen Rivas or Collins would kick it away to a clearing offensive player but the ball would either always to short or just past them – enough distance away for an Essen player to regain possession.

"C'mon! Attack! Attack! Attack!" the players heard a stressed Fuentes yelling as the time clicked down...

"Give it to Ahlman!"-Frits was in the center of the penalty box hoping for an easy header with a broad jump. Although he could have saved Yugo's shot if he was a few years younger he still could jump higher than all the players surrounding him. Yugo was grabbing onto the left side of Frits' shirt

"Relax man." Frits stated with a thick accent of the Black Forrest region of Germany

"We've been playing this game since childhood man you know how scrappy it gets when its this late in the game," Darren replied with a smile

As Abt, the center man passes it to Ahlman who kicks it in front and begins running down the right sideline. Vilbergssen ran out of position to help but it left an open area where he was guarding and Frits attacked.

Ahlman saw Frits running to the now empty space with a struggling Yugo running behind not trying to force a penalty kick then similar to Rivas' kick from before Ahlman arched it up toward the towering Frits.

"Fuck me," Darren mutters in his heavy breathing seeing the ball almost as high as the second-deck balcony. As Frits was in the air Darren knowing he had no chance of stopping it instead ran around toward the goal hoping to at least save the "Great Dane's" shot in a last stand.

Now completely open Frits tilted his head onto his shoulder waiting for the ball to reach the right area to connect. A couple of years ago still after his prime – maybe about 2 years after when he was 31 a German science institute tried to calculate how fast his header was. After doing 10 tests they averaged it out to 62 KPH or 38 MPH they said that if done earlier when he was still in his twenties they believed it could surpass that number.

As Frit's head suddenly connected Darren sacrificed his body for his teammates – but mainly for the fans.

When Darren first arrived at Rowland he was concerned about moving to a smaller village than Tauton but when he arrived he found a second family. A family that helped Theresa raise their infant daughter when he was on the road playing games.

Frit's header was more glamorous than Isaac's. Even if Darren jumped and battled Frits for the ball he would still be 2 heads shorter.

"BOOM!" the ball made as it landed on Frits' cranium and suddenly skyrocketed – whizzing through the air like an anywhere ball.

Darren knew where it was going. Straight to his head. But he just stood there and took it.

As Darren fell backward with players' cleats on non-descript players inches from his head the ref blew the whistle as the ball was kicked out of bounds.

Rowland medics rushed out onto the field to help the now fallen and slightly more injured Darren Yugo. His nose was bloody and his face was swelling. An imprint of the ball manufacturer which was in the shape of a swoosh.

"Fucking hell that hurt," Darren said still on the ground trying to get up

"Don't get up yet." the Rowland trainer said sternly

"I'm getting up. I'll get off but I don't need any assistance." Darren ordered

"Fine. But you'll only be seeing clouds."

"I don't care. Just walk straight right?"

"Yeah. Then turn right."

"Got it. Just tell me when to make that."

"If you insist."

Darren got up on his own power albeit weakly. He waved to the fans and gave them thumbs-ups as to tell everyone that he was fine. But all he could see was a hazy fog.

After a few strides, the trainer yelled

"Right!"

Darren turned to the bench as if he already was familiar and had his sight. Yet although the crowd cheered for his walk-off there were 2 things to worry about.

1) As he lay bare on the ground the time clicked past 90 minutes and stoppage time was shown to be: 6 minutes.

2) Rowland has to play with 1 less man as a substituted player cannot be substituted off.

90:34 + 6