A/N: this chapter is about, well, soccer. sorry if you don't understand what's happening. I'll try to make it understandable for you guys as best as I can :)
L I Z
I'd been pacing around the living room all day. Today was the day of the Champions League, a popular soccer tournament. What everyone doesn't know is that I'm a huge soccer fan, I just haven't had the time to sit and watch a game. I've made an exception for today, because I'm on vacation and my brothers pay for cable (thank God).
The final was a match between two teams that are considered mortal enemies in the soccer world, FC Barcelona and Real Madrid. Both teams hailing from Spain, you either love one or the other, no in between, and if you don't like choosing sides then the Spanish league just isn't for you. But hey, there's always the English, German, and South American leagues.
"Why so serious?" Steve remarked, leaning on the kitchen doorway.
"I'm waiting for the game to start. God, if we don't win I don't know what I'm gonna do." I vented to a confused Steve.
"What are you talking about? What team?"
I took a deep sigh, explaining soccer was something I didn't want to do. "There's a big soccer game today in half an hour, and if my team loses to our mortal enemy, I don't know what I'll do."
"You watch soccer? Since when?" Sodapop walked in, sporting a plain shirt with ripped jeans and no shoes.
"Since I started touring and stuff a few years ago. Soccer is what keeps me alive. Kind of like Darry and football." I smiled.
"Ah, so you're passionate about this stupid game?" Steve smirked.
"Don't you dare call my sport stupid. Your cars are stupid." I shot back.
"Cars are what keep me breathing, little miss!"
"Soccer is what keeps me breathing, old man!"
We didn't talk much after that, except when the game finally started, then we didn't talk at all. The game is too intense to even think about speaking.
I was too busy yelling at the television screen to notice the rest of the gang walk in, even Darry. I later found out that Soda and Steve explained to them what all the hoopla was about.
And also why I was practically losing my voice over the "stupid" game.
• • •
We'd gone 120 minutes overtime into the game. The score was 2-2, and it stood that way for the past 35 minutes. There were 5 minutes left in the game before moving to penalty kicks as a last resort. Penalty kicks are basically this: when the game is tied, even after 120 minutes of overtime, five players from each team get to free-kick the ball into the goal. The hard part about that is they need to get the ball through the goalie to score for the team. And lord, I did not want to try and score against Real Madrid's goalie, Iker Casillas. He was almost deadly on the field, almost no balls flew past his sight. I'm not too worried though, we have an amazing goalie as well.
But then, it happened. In the last minute, Messi, one of my team's players, scored a goal right from the middle of the field. I couldn't even describe how fast my heart was beating, and how fast my adrenaline was pumping when I shot up from my seat and started yelling and jumping. I think I shook up the entire gang, because they looked at me like I was some weirdo.
"WE WON!! I CAN'T BELIEVE WE WON! OH MY GOD WE WON!" I shouted, running up and down the house.
"Alright, we get it, now what?" Pony remarked.
"Now, we rub it in to all my Soc, Real Madrid fans!"
First, I called Bob, because he has to be disappointed that they lost. After a few rings, he picked up.
"Hello?"
"It's Liz. WE WON!" I shouted.
"Fuck. Off."
"MADRID, CABRÓN, SALUDA AL CAMPÉON!" I chanted through the phone, practically seeing him roll his eyes.
"Maybe if Casillas would've kept his eye on the ball like he's supposed to, we wouldn't have lost." Bob attempted reasoning.
"Yeah, mhmm, totally not because your team plays like a bunch of horses!" I smirked before hanging up.
"What's so important about soccer with you?" Darry asked, furrowing his eyebrows, staring into me with his sparkling icy eyes.
I sighed and sat on the couch as the gang focused on me, "The big deal about this sport is that, well, the entire sport is drive and passion. I mean, yeah, there's tactic and skills involved, but if you don't have the heart for a sport like this, you'll never be able to play. Even just watching a single match, it's like, joy and gut-wrenching pain, it's being able to chant for your team with all the pride in the world because you couldn't pick a better soccer team than that one. And when you love a soccer club so much it's like you're a part of their family, it's an unbreakable bond between you and the players because you share the same pain when you lose a final that you worked so hard for, or you share the same joy and excitement when you win. There's just so much passion and love in this sport, and I guess that's just why I love it so much." I shrugged, finishing my little speech.
"Wow, so I guess you really are passionate about this, like me with football." Darry smiled.
"Exactly."
A/N: So I hope you understood all the soccer stuff. This was just a filler chapter, nothing major to the plot of the book, really. Just wanted to give you a little something to read.
*I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE SOCCER CLUBS OR PLAYERS MENTIONED IN THIS CHAPTER. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO THE RESPECTIVE TEAMS.*
*I ALSO DO NOT TAKE CREDIT FOR THE UEFA CHAMPIONS LEAGUE.*
